Page 38 of The Publicity Stunt
It should be in one of these cabinets. I pull open the top drawer.
“April, it’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad? You’re bleeding, Parker … found it!”
“Do you even know what you’re doing?”
Fishing around the kit, I take out a cloth bandage and push him down on his futon. “Of course, I do.” No, not really. But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna try. “Move your hand. We need to stop the bleeding.”
“Stop the bleeding?” he parrots with distaste. “It’s a tiny scratch.”
I press the bandage into the cut.
“Ow!” he says, flinching back.
“A tiny scratch that’s bleeding profusely.” I pull his arm toward me, gently dabbing the bandage around the bloody wound. “You might need stitches.”
His muscles go rigid. “What?”
“Stitches,” I repeat and he cuts me off.
“I don’t need stitches.”
Ignoring the curt response, I go on, my attention now on pouring some antiseptic on the bandage. “Does this happen often?” The idea of him getting hurt like this doesn’t sit right with me.
“You really shouldn’t have smiled at me like that,” he whispers. I look up, and his deep amber eyes fill mine. A fluttery sensation courses through my chest.
I press the bandage against the cut, then lighten the pressure, my fingers diligently trying to clean the surplus blood around the wound. “Better?”
“Mm-hm.” He nods, stripped of words.
“I still think you should go to the ER.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“What’s the big deal? Do you not have health insurance or something? Wait, you do have health insurance, right?”
“Yeah, I do. It’s not that.” He whips out the tourniquet and wraps it around his bicep. “I’m just—”
“Oh my God,” I whisper. “How could I forget? Hayden Parker is scared of needles.”
“I’m not scared of needles.”
“Correct. You’re petrified.”
“Am not.”
“You need stitches,” I insist, “or else your infected arm is going to rot till it falls right off.”
“Will you come with me?” he asks.
“Me?”
“Yeah, since you’re partially responsible for my injury.”
That makes me laugh a little. “Fine, I’ll talk to Markus.”
“Markus?”
