Page 28 of Beautiful Small Things

Marcus grabbed the closest thing to me he could find. Toilet paper. As I sat up with my boob still weighing heavy in my hand, he gently placed a ball of it on my cut.

“We have to keep pressure on it. Any wound to the head bleeds excessively because the head is so vascular.”

No shit, Sherlock.

Then he proceeded to use his medical knowledge to check me for a concussion. I let him look into my eyes and answered his questions silently with shakes or nods of my head. The entire time I was wishing the counter had just knocked me out to put me out of my misery.

This wasn’t sexy. He wasn’t looking at me like someone who he found irresistible. I don’t even think he realized I was naked. He was looking at me with concern. Pity and concern; for essentially his best friend’s little sister.

Done. I was fucking done. So I slowly stood up, using the bathroom counter for balance. I let go of the toilet paper, but it absorbed enough fluid to form a trusty bond with the blood on my head and stuck to my face, save a few torn squares that trailed over my eye to my nose. My tit had welted. I felt dizzy and disoriented. But I pushed my shoulders back and lifted my head in defiance. I calmly walked by him, butt-ass naked, and said, “I am almost ready. I’ll be done soon.”

As I walked past, I could see him staring straight ahead and the corner of his lip twitching. He was trying not to laugh. I hadn’t shown him that I was a capable, beautiful young woman. I had entertained him like a clown in the circus.

There would be no coming back from this. My nipple stung, my head throbbed with each heartbeat, and I had been found crying in the fetal position. As much as everything hurt, nothing compared to the pain of my pride. I was going to have to move. I’d never recover. Marcus would tell Callan and Colby. It would be brought up at family gatherings. Small children would tell the cautionary tale to one another as a warning to always be careful when working with any sort of cord and never, ever get ready for the day naked, like some kind of common hussy.

I returned to the bathroom after Marcus silently exited the room, splashed some cold water on my face, and put on my bikini. When I emerged, there was an ice pack sitting on my bed. I grabbed it and gently set it on my head. I still hadn’t seen my sister, so Marcus must’ve left it for me.

It was a sweet gesture that only made me feel worse. I wasn’t mentally or physically prepared for a camping trip at that point, so I explained that I would be staying home, much to my sister’s disappointment. She hugged me and told me to call our mom if I felt dizzy. Callan hugged me and tried not to laugh but failed. Dick.

After the other two had already walked out, Marcus looked me in the eye and told me not to worry about anything. I scoffed but what he said next managed to make me feel better.

“James, it’s really not a big deal,” he said. “We’ve all been embarrassed at one time or another.”

“Yeah, right. Like you’ve ever been embarrassed,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief.

“I have,” he pleaded. When I offered an unbelieving stare, he elaborated. “One time, I shit my pants on a roller coaster,” he said flatly. Just out of the blue. No lead-up or warning.

“What?” I laughed, shaking my head. “Not possible.”

“Totally possible,” he chucked. “I had eaten chorizo and eggs that morning.”

“Oh my God,” I laughed, touching his chest. “Stop.”

“I wish I had,” he joked. “But then I took Melissa Miller on a date. We were halfway through the fastest roller coaster on the west coast when the chorizo hit me. And there, sitting next to a girl I desperately wanted to bang, I shit my pants.”

“You’re an idiot,” I laughed.

“Never claimed to be otherwise,” he joked. “So, now you know something embarrassing about me. So don’t feel weird about me seeing you in the fetal position on the bathroom floor.” He tipped my chin up with his hand, forcing me to look him in the eye. “OK?”

“OK,” I agreed.

He smiled, kissed my forehead sweetly, and turned to leave. On his way out, he yelled, “Nice tits,” without looking back.

Chapter twelve

The Rock Wall

Iris

Dad will be back this afternoon and I’m looking forward to spending time with him.

In the meantime, in an effort to mend some of the weirdness with Orion, I agreed to meet him for breakfast the next morning.

Orion and I are comfortably talking about everything except the weirdness between us.

“Who would’ve thought that what started out as a paper for the foundation committee would turn into a fact-finding mission on my father’s love life?“ I marvel at Orion.

“Why are you digging into that?“ he questions as we eat breakfast at our favorite diner on the pier. “This assignment is supposed to be about his professional accomplishments.”