That Thing Between Eli & Gwen

It was funny, but I couldn’t laugh. “Yes. You all right?”

“Yep,” she said when the door opened, and we just went into our separate apartments.

Chapter Seven

We Are Not Okay

Guinevere

I was just deciding whether or not to knock on his door when he opened it wide, a first aid kit in his hands.

“What are you doing?” His eyebrows furrowed together and he took a slight step back.

“I don’t have a first aid kit yet, so I was going to ask to borrow yours,” I said quickly. “But never mind, I will just buy one tomorrow.”

“I figured.” He laughed, though he didn’t seem to find it funny. He held up the first aid kit. “I was going to give this to you.”

“Oh, thanks—” I reached for the kit.

He pulled it back, staring down at my ankle as I balanced on my other leg. “How bad is it?” He knelt in front of me. “Did you feel anything pop?”

“No, it’s fine.” I put my foot all the way on the ground, only to wince and lift it up again.

“That is not fine. Come in.” He took my elbow, helping me inside.

“Eli—”

“Keep walking.” He guided me toward his gray sofa.

Everything in his apartment was either navy, gray, or off-white, and annoyingly clean like one of those show homes or…well, like a hospital.

“Sit,” he commanded when we reached the sofa.

“I’m not a dog—”

Sighing, he just pushed me back slowly.

When my butt hit the couch, I felt the urge to just lean back into it. The thing was so soft. “This is nice…” I whispered, running my hand over the cushions.

“Isn’t it? It’s called a couch, a marvelous invention really. With all that empty space in your place, I wasn’t sure if you knew about such items.” He sat on his wooden coffee table, lifting up my leg.

“You are not funny—ah.” I winced as he pressed around my ankle.

“What happened?” He finally looked up.

“Why do you care?”

“Because if people see you coming in like that, the value of this place might go down.”

Reaching up, I tried to smack him.

He squeezed my ankle.

“Ouch! What happened to 'do no harm'?”

“Sorry, just checking to see if you tore anything.” He shrugged, a small smirk on his lips betraying the lie. “You're going to need to ice this first,” he muttered to himself, taking out a large, square instant ice pack. “After the swelling goes down, I’ll compress it. Hand me that pillow.”

Reaching over, I handed him the navy pillow.