Page 10 of Can't Have Him

“I’m fine.” I try walking again, but I have to stop, it hurts too much.

“Let me help you,” says James.

“No,” I say.

“You can’t walk. For fuck’s sake, Olivia. Just let me help you.”

I sigh. What else am I going to do? Ask a stranger? Wait here and drown?

“Okay,” I say. “Fine. Thank you.”

* * *

We’re both absolutely drenchedby the time we get to my apartment, and James grabs my bath towel out the bathroom and wraps it around me, then helps me over to the couch and takes off my shoes for me. Shivering, I watch him inspect my injury. He presses on my ankle and moves my foot around gently, asking me where and how much it hurts.

“I’m pretty confident it’s just twisted,” he says.

I let out a breath. “Okay. Thanks.”

“Obviously, I’m not a doctor, though.”

“You seem like you know what you’re doing.”

He shrugs. And as much as I don’t want to, I can’t help but notice how his shirt is clinging to his upper body. I can practically see his abs through the fabric.

Water continues to drip off of James onto the carpet. He suddenly takes notice of this, too.

“I’m making a mess of your place,” he says. “And you should change into dry clothes. I’m going to leave you be. Do you need anything?”

“No,” I say. “Thank you for helping me. I appreciate it.”

“No worries,” he says.

And then, like that, he’s gone.

Moving at less than half-speed, I hobble into my bathroom, peel off my soaked clothes, and hang them up to dry. Then, naked and shivering, I hobble into my bedroom and pull on loose lounge pants and a clean shirt.

Lying back onto my bed, I grapple with my feelings of gratitude for what James just did. It doesn’t change anything…but it does make me feel a little less disgusted with him.

Only a little bit, though.

Chapter Six

James

There’s no lecture the last day of class, just office hours. I’ve told the students they’re free to stop by any time before six to drop off their final paper and any extra credit assignments they might have completed.

Not surprisingly, the overachievers are waiting outside my office door as soon as I show up.

I thank the small group of students who are eager to turn in their final papers and wish them a happy winter break. After they leave, I spend a few minutes getting settled in my office and start to look over the papers that were just handed in.

I’ve just reached the end of the second page of one of the papers when I hear a soft knock on my door. When I look up, I see Olivia standing there, paper in hand.

“Hi,” she says, handing her paper over.

I take it from her. “How’s the ankle doing?”

“It’s fine now,” she says. “I think my clothes have finally dried out, too.”