Chapter 78
Roxy's POV
When I leave Kyrah's room, I tiptoe across the hall and just when I'm about to open the door, Kye appears from downstairs. He'd gone to the kitchen to take back the glass I was using.
"Roxy, why are you out of bed, and barefoot?" he questions as he gets closer.
"Eerr... I was in Kyrah's room," I say.
"It's cold and I don't want you getting sick," he says and sweeps me off my feet. My hands automatically go around his neck. With ease, he opens the door and walks in while carrying me. He pushes the door with one foot and walks straight to the bed and carefully places me on it and covers me.
"You need to stay in bed till you feel better. How was your night by the way?" he asks.
"It was okay. I finally got to sleep well and dreamt I was hanging out with Willy Wonka and Quasimodo," I chuckle.
He bursts out laughing and sits on the bed and I place the pills Kyrah gave me on the nightstand. They're still in their tiny box, but Kye doesn't notice me placing them there, he's busy laughing.
"What?" I frown. "It was such a cool dream."
"What in the world is a Quasi... What?" he laughs again. "I know Willy Wonka though."
"The amazing chocolateer!" I grin.
"Yeah, but who or what is a Quasi... What did you just call it?"
"Quasimodo... Q-u-a-s-i-m-o-d-o." I spell it out for him, when he smiles his eyes glitter.
"Well what is it?" he asks.
"Quasimodo is a fictional character of the novel 'The Hunchback of Notre-Dame'. I've seen its cartoon version, it's really cool," I say.
"Wow, I'd love to watch it too. You cracked me up for a minute there. That was really funny, I mean, who dreams about Willy Wonka?" he shrugs.
"I do."
There he goes again, laughing out loud and I join in.
"Uhm... Kye, to be honest... Err... I'm not having a fever–"
"So I gave you the wrong medicine?" he looks panicked.
"They were pain killers, they helped a little but in my situation they usually take longer to make me feel better?" I say as I scratch my neck.
"What situation?" his eyes go wide.
"Relax, don't panic, I'm having cramps, that's all," I say looking away.
"Kyrah's given me some of her pills and they work instantly. I just need another glass of water."
"I'm glad you're being honest with me. Does it hurt much?" he asks, getting into the bed and covering himself too. "I can lay in bed all day with you if you're not going outside."
"I'll be fine, it's just cramps, the rest will come in a few days, if you know what I mean," I say.
"Totally, I understand. You need a hot water bottle for your lower abdomen, it'll help," he says.
"How'd you know that?" I ask.
"My sister used a hot water bottle every time she had cramps, she told me it helps relax the muscles down there or something like that," he smiles and I blush.
"Oh, I've never used it before, I normally take medicine, I can try it too."
"I can see if there's one in the kitchen." Then he walks out and in about ten minutes or even less, he's back with a purple hot water bottle.
He then gets into bed and hands it to me. It feels perfectly warm when I hold it.
"Where do I place it?" I ask, pretending not to know. Of course I know all of this. It's just that pills work faster for me.
"On your lower abdomen, my sister showed me how to do it. She said, 'once you get yourself a girlfriend don't let her cramps kill her while you're watching. Or any other girl,' and that's how I learned. Can I show you?" he asks.
"Alright," I say, followed by a nod.
Slowly his hand moves to my stomach and slowly, it moves lower. He's looking at me and I'm looking at him, feeling his hand stop below my tummy, right above my shorts.
He then pulls my t-shirt up and his hand feels very warm on my skin.
"Right there," he says.
We're both lying in bed, eyes locked, his hand caressing my lower abdomen and at this point, I trust him. I believe he won't do anything stupid. He then takes the hot water bottle from me and places it on the spot where his hand was on. He holds on to it and I don't know why, but I place my hand above his.
"It feels so relaxing. Thanks," I say.
"You're welcome," he coos.
My entire being is screaming inwardly.
His eyes! His body! His smile! His scent! God! What a man!
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