“Why’d you stop?” I reach for him again, and he pulls me into a hug.
“I would like to avoid hurting you more.”
“I’m fine, Tito. It’s just a few scratches.” I mumble into his chest, his muscular chest that smells like laundry detergent mixed with his musky cologne.
“Let’s get you fixed up,” he whispers, kissing the top of my head and guiding me to the bath. I lift my leg over the tub as he holds my hand, and I nearly scream when I feel the sting of the water hit my wounds. I bite down on my tongue, sinking into the water with a grimace.
“How's everything feeling?” He asks, though he probably already knows the answer. I nod, though that’s not really the way to answer his question, and he squats down next to the tub, reaching for me.
“It’ll be okay,” he whispers, brushing hair out of my eyes as I let the hot water soften my wounds. My knees are the worst of it, and I’m really feeling them now. Tito must be able to tell because he holds his hand out to me, and at first, I don’t understand until he points to my hand.
“Squeeze it when it hurts,” he suggests. I reach for his hand, squeezing as tightly as I can and not letting up until the water begins to partially cleanse everything and I don’t have as much pain.
As I look into Tito’s eyes, his strong features pointed towards me, offering their care and safety, I feel at ease. It’s hard for me to believe that he’s real, that this is real, and without thinking without even realizing it until it comes out, I blurt, “Tito, have you ever been in love?”
18
TITO
“Tito, have you ever been in love?” Scout asks as she squeezes my hand with such force I think I might feel it cracking. It’s taken me off guard, this question of hers. I wonder why she’s asking it, but even more so, why it gives me such a visceral reaction. My body leans into her, and I study her amber eyes in the dim light of the bathroom. Steam lifts from the water, surrounding us like a tangible representation of the unexplainable connection we have. I want to reach for her face and give her an answer that will please her, but the truth is, I’ve never met anyone like her.
I would rather not connect the dots; I shouldn’t connect the dots. So, I shake my head in response.
“No.”
“Really?” She’s far too surprised, and I crack a grin.
“You know, I haven’t really dated much.”
“Wait, I thought you had a lot of experience, you know, with—”
“Nope.” I realize how that sounds, so I quickly continue. “I mean, I’ve had experience, I just… It definitely isn't the same as being with you. Nowhere close.”
“Hm.” She blinks down at the murky water for longer than I am comfortable, considering what I’ve just divulged. I squeeze her hand lightly, and she turns her eyes back to me. I could get lost in those eyes and think I do most days.
“We should address your wounds.” I change the subject and pull her arm lightly so she knows to stand. As I help her out of the tub, I catch a glimpse of her naked body, her warm skin glistening with water and steam curling off every part of her. I almost forget what we were doing a moment ago because I’m so attracted to every curvature of her incredible body.
What snaps me out of it is the depth of the wounds on her knees, and I grab her towel to cover her up when I realize the urgency. I think she can tell I couldn’t help but glance at her because she’s got a pink-cheeked grin on her perfect face. I step away as she dries off, grabbing the cotton balls and peroxide off the sink. When I turn around, she’s seated on the corner of the tub, so I crouch down onto my knees, pulling hers close to my face, so I can make sure there’s nothing in the wounds.
“You’re lucky.” I brush my finger over the wound, and she grimaces.
“How is me hurting myself while crawling through bushes, lucky?”
“There’s no stones or anything like that in your wounds.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, if there was, I’d have to scrub it out.” Her lips turn down at the corners as she bares her teeth, clearly offset by the visual.
“This may hurt a little.” I open the peroxide and pour it onto her knee without giving much room for her to process what I’m about to do. Her ear-splitting scream, in response, alarms me enough that I nearly fall back.
“I can stop,” I assure her as she takes heavy breaths, and I pull the bottle away.
“No.” She shakes her head, grabbing my shoulder. “I can take it.” I take a breath to relieve the pressure in my chest from knowing I’m causing her pain and pour some more peroxide on her wound. Her grip tightens on my shoulder, and I clench my teeth, so I can fight the urge not to stop. I know this is helping her, so that’s what I keep reminding myself.
After doing the other knee and blotting them both with cotton, I head back over to the sink and grab the gauze. I also take back with me a special cream to help heal the wound.
Her eyes shift to it in my hand as I make my way back to her, and I can tell she’s not excited about something else going on her wound.