Violet
I ignored the first knock on the door, thinking it was for the girl who lived in the room next door. When the noise repeated, I lifted my head off the pillow and glanced at the door, like looking through the wood would somehow be possible.
I got up, grouchy and grumbling, crossing the room on slightly unsteady ankles. It was probably the resident advisor. I was just going to have to tell her coming ‘round on Sunday’s was not cool.
I didn’t bother to hide my grouch face when I opened the door only enough to stick my head out. Hopefully I scared her.
“Hey.” A voice that was most definitely not the resident advisor’s greeted me.
Behind the door, my hand tightened around the handle as my eyes went wide with surprise. “Stark,” I squeaked, straightening a little.
“Bad time?” he asked, his eyes searching my face.
Oh shit. I looked like crap. Probably worse than crap.
“How did you know my room number?” I stammered, still worrying about my uncombed hair and pajamas.
“Nate told me.”
“Right.”
He gestured to my door with his chin. That damn hat was pulled low on his face again. “Is there a guy in there?” he demanded.
“What!” I gasped.
“A guy,” he replied, voice hard. Next thing I knew, he flattened his palm on the door and pushed.
I let go, allowing the door to swing wide. “Do I look like I have a guy in my room?” I muttered, pointing at myself.
He grunted and walked right into my room. “You look like you were rolling around in bed.”
I wanted to laugh. He was acting territorial. And stupid.
Rubbing my temples, I sighed. “I was lying on the couch.” I pointed to the blanket, pillow, and open laptop on the coffee table.
His demeanor changed instantly. His body rotated around, eyes sweeping me from head to toe. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” I said. “I’m just not feeling well.”
“You’re sick,” he mumbled and came forward, worry drawing his mouth down. When he reached me, his hand automatically pressed against my forehead as though he were feeling for a fever. “What hurts?”
“Everything.”
A soft sound vibrated the back of his throat. The next thing I knew, he swept me up into his arms, carrying me the short distance to the couch. No one had ever carried me before.
“I’m going to hurt your back.” I warned. I didn’t want to show how much I reveled in this.
Plus, for realsies, I was going to hurt his back.
“You calling me some kind of sissy?” Stark sat down, keeping me sideways in his lap.
“I could be highly contagious, you know.” I pointed out.
I didn’t feel good, and he was holding me.
Oh God, I hoped he didn’t stop.
Comfort wasn’t always easy to find, but I felt it now.
“I don’t care,” he murmured, pressing my cheek into his shoulder.
I sighed.
After a moment of us just breathing quietly, his hand stroked up my back. “Stomach bug? Flu? Tell me what I’m dealing with here.”
I smiled into his chest. “Nothing that serious. I just have a headache and feel like I might be coming down with something.”
I knew I wasn’t, but I wasn’t sure how else to explain it.
Stark tucked his arms around me, and I felt surrounded. If I was comfortable before… now it was even better.
Almost as if I’d found where I belonged.
“What you watching?” he rumbled over my head, pointing to the laptop.
“Netflix,” I answered. “A series called Strange People.”
“I think I’ve heard of it,” he said, thoughtful.
“I just started it this morning. It’s a binge watch kinda day.”
“Want some company?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said, trying not to sound surprised, excited, or any of the fifty other emotions I was feeling at the same time.
“Did you eat today?” he asked, settling a little farther into the couch.
“Not yet,” I said. “I couldn’t face my green shake this morning.”
“Green shake?”
“It’s good for me,” I explaining.
“So it tastes like shit.” He surmised.
I giggled. “Yeah.”
“You gotta eat, Vi.” He scolded.
I didn’t mind. I actually kinda thought it was sweet.
“I’ll go get something later.”
In one movement, Stark slid me off his lap and stood. The sound of car keys jangling made me look up. Guess he decided hanging out with my sick ass wasn’t as fun as it sounded.
“Pineapple or strawberry?” he asked, spinning the keyring on his finger.
“What?”
“What flavor smoothie do you want?”
I sat up a little straighter, amazed. “You’re going to get me a smoothie?”
“You need anything else while I’m out?” he asked, glancing around. “Tissues or something?”
I pressed my lips together, suppressing a smile. “No, I’m good.”
He leaned down and pulled the blanket over me. I felt his lips in my hair. “I’ll be back in a few, baby. Just rest.”
I stilled, wondering if he realized what he’d just said. He was already moving across the room, though, keys in hand.
“Stark?” I called out.
His body tensed, but didn’t turn around.
He knew. He was just as caught off guard as I was.
“Yeah?” he answered.
“My keycard to the building is right there on the dresser. Take it. Then you won’t have to wait for someone to let you in.”
He sidestepped, snatched it off the top, and slipped it into the back pocket of his jeans. Jeans that hugged his ass in a very nice way.
I might be sick, but I sure as hell wasn’t blind.
“Don’t watch any more of that show without me,” he instructed, then let himself out of my room.
I blinked at the closed door, then glanced down at the blanket he’d covered me with. He was going to get me a smoothie. He’d held me in his lap. He picked my chubby, round ass up and didn’t even act like I was heavy.
He called me baby.
I was playing with fire with this one.
It was the first time in my life I might have been anticipating getting burned.