Page 71 of Aine
Damien runs a hand down the front of his face, but to my surprise, he doesn’t argue back. There’s a long moment of silence, and only when I can’t take it any longer do I agree to join him for dinner. He beams, and I turn away before it gets to me.
Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I open my bag and search for my feminine products. The cramps started on the way here, and I’d like to get my menstrual cup in before he smells my monthly bleed.
The object is nowhere to be seen, and I try not to appear too frantic as I mentally curse myself for letting Olivia pack my bag. I can’t be mad at her for not thinking of packing my cup, and I feel stupid for not double-checking before leaving.
I knew my period was going to be starting soon.
Damien doesn’t even try to pretend he isn’t watching, his eyes boring holes into the sides of my head.
“What’s wrong?” he finally asks. “Your panic is making me anxious, and I can’t detect the cause.”
I don’t respond. I’d rather seem rude than tell him I don’t have my menstruation cup. My eyes water as I shove aside a handful of clothing and scan the black fabric on the bottom of my bag.
Praying he doesn’t push, I suck in a deep breath and turn to him. “I need money.”
Damien blinks. “Why?”
My cheeks warm as I glance between him and my bag in search of the correct words. Feminine hygiene is something I’ve been raised to believe is a sin, and I’d rather not see the disgust I know will cross Damien’s face when I tell him my dilemma.
“Did Olivia forget to pack you something?” He follows my gaze to the bag I’ve spent the past five minutes frantically searching through. “I’m happy to buy you anything you need.”
Shit.He’s not going to give me any money without an explanation.
“I need to purchase some… feminine products.”
Nothing short of mortification courses through my veins as Damien sniffs the air. Why the fuck does he have to be like that? Can’t I just live in peaceful shame?
“You’re not bleeding,” he says.
He sounds earnest in his confusion, and I pinch the bridge of my nose to keep from lashing out.
“I can feel it’s going to start soon, and I forgot to pack my cup,” I quietly admit.
“I’ll purchase one for you. Stay here,” Damien orders, moving immediately to the door.
My jaw falls open in horror, but he’s gone before I have the opportunity to argue. I stare at the door for a second before lunging forward and sprinting into the hallway. My chin wobbles when I’m met with an empty space.
This is arguably one of the most embarrassing things to ever happen to me, and I sulk back inside and head into the bathroom to hide until he returns. My intentions weren’t to make him go out and purchase the product for me.
Sitting on the toilet seat, I set my elbows on my knees and rest my chin in my hands. Damien probably doesn’t even know what to buy. I stare at my reflection in the mirror as I wait, my feet tapping anxiously against the floor.
My back stiffens when I hear the hotel door open, but I remain still until knuckles tap against the bathroom door.
“Aine?” Damien calls out. “I have your product.”
Sucking in a shaky breath, I drag my feet along the floor and open the door. He holds the cup in the air as I crack the door open and peek through, only letting half my face show as I snatch it from his hand and slam the door shut.
“There were two sizes, and I purchased the smaller one.” He speaks through the wood. “I’m unsure if the size correlates to vagina or blood, but your hole is small and you have light bleeds, so I figured this was the better option.”
I lean against the closed door and stare in horror at the cup Damien handed me. Men aren’t supposed to know about the monthly bleed, and it’s my job as a woman to keep it tidy and under control.
Sighing, I turn toward the sink to clean it. My body hunches over on itself as a painful cramp settles within my abdomen, and I take a few deep breaths until it dissipates into a tolerable pressure. In fear of Damien hearing me, I leave the water running as I fold the cup up and stick it inside myself.
I have to do some maneuvering, but it suctions in place after a bit of adjusting.
Damien is sitting on his bed when I finally work up the courage to leave the bathroom, an almost-wary look on his face as he watches me approach my bed.
“Thank you for running to the store for me,” I whisper.