Page 18 of Nine-Tenths

Chapter Six

The doctor had put neat little stitches into each of the five puncture wounds, and assured me I was going to heal up perfectly fine, with no danger of nerve damage. I'd also had a tetanus shot, just to be sure. Which was a bit insulting to Dav, to be honest.

"I'll walk," I say as I sway to a stop on the evening-cool sidewalk.

The sun is setting.Howhad we been in the hospital that long?

"You will not," Dav counters, already thumbing at his phone. "What's your address?" He makes a face when I tell him.

"It’s cheap. And my roommate's backpacking through Europe. I have the place to myself until January."

Although, how I'm supposed to save up to move out now, since I have no workplace and, shit, likely no job, I have no idea. Ugh.

Also, I amnotleaning on Dav to stay upright.

It may look like I am, but I'm actually not.

It's just… it's been along day, okay? So what if he's the perfect height for my head to rest on his shoulder, it's not a big deal, and I still haven't hadany coffee. Tragedy. I can be excused.

Dav slips an arm around my shoulder, careful to place his hand on my ribs, rather than my bicep. Gosh, he's so warm. June though it is, this is Canada. It’s chilly when the shadows get long. And I hadn't worn a jacket to work because I’d expected to be home by now.

When the car arrives, the posh bastard opens the door for me. Either it's the second round of painkillers talking, or I'm starting to like him. Once we're settled and I've won the silent battle of wills to strap my own damn self in with the seatbelt, Dav fills the awkward silence by staring a hole through his phone. Right, fine by me. I can just lean back and close my eyes and…

My stomach grumbles.

Mortifying.

Dav jerks his head up, startled. Then his expression melts into something closer to amused.

"No," I say immediately. "You don't have to order me dinner."

"I haven't even—"

"No," I repeat. "All I want to do is go to bed." I don't add:And I don't want your apology-money or pity-time, because that's what I fear thisactuallyis. I don't want it to be that, even though I can't definethatright now, because I'm...

I like spending time with Dav.

I like his gentle manners. I like his precise way of moving, as if every gesture is calculated for maximum elegance and efficiency. I like his fussy clothes and his stupid hanky. I like that he's the right height to lean on, and that his very presence makes thechill evening air tolerable. I like his voice when he is reading me romance novels. For a dude who hates to be fussed over, I'll admit… I even kind of like Dav's fussing. 'Cause when he does it, heenjoysit. He’s not just doing it because he thinks he should.

Davis nice, but like,thoughtfulnice. I used to worry he was a split-tongued creep, but he's never actually done anything creepy. Just sat in the corner and read.

I might even beenjoyingtoday, in a masochistic way.

It—stupidly—feels like a date. A date that started with impatience and flying espresso and fire, and is ending with blood and localized freezing and stitches. But honestly? It's still not the worst I've ever been on, and nope, this is dangerous territory to be letting my drugged-up brain wander into. I have been burned by thinking there was something there before. Many,manytimes before. This is why I have The Rules.

So no, I am not going to let him buy me dinner because he feels bad about lightly stabbing me by accident. Dinner would be way tooactualdate-y. It doesn't matter that he's now 'Dav', the handsome and well-dressed dragon who beleaguers nurses on my behalf, and buys me candy when I am hurting. He is stilljusta customer.

That'sall.

He actually harrumphs. "Very well."

Victory.

He turns his attention back to his phone. After a long few moments, he makes that annoyed, put-upon kitten-purr-growl noise again. Does he even realize he's making it? It's… adorable.

"What?" I ask, because I’m a glutton for punishment.

Get it together, Colin.