Athena

27. There, All Better

He wants me to be his... nurse?

There's something suggestive in Cruz's delivery that makes me feel all hot and bothered. My mouth goes dry, and my voice comes out low and scratchy when I respond, "Do you need my help right... now?"

I'm confused, though.

Didn't Ms. Devlin just bandage him up? 

Does he need to change them already?

"Well, I wanted to jump in the shower first. I feel kinda gross after, you know, everything that happened today," Cruz replies.

Everything—as in his fight with Brody.

He asks, "I was hoping you could help redo my bandages afterwards?"

Ah, now, that makes more sense.

I nod readily. "Sure, whatever you need."

"I'll be quick. Five minutes tops. Why don't you go wait in my room? The first aid kit is already in there."

"Gotcha."

Cruz disappears into the bathroom.

I head toward his bedroom.

His door is already slightly ajar. I push it open with ease. I make my way inside, and I realize that this is the first time Cruz has invited me to his bat cave. Immediately, I start snooping around as curiosity gets the better of me. I've been in his room before, but I never got a chance to take a good look around.

His walls are an identical shade of off-white as the walls in my room, and his floors are also the same dark-stained hardwood that's found throughout the rest of the house. I see a walk-in closet, a built-in bookshelf, a small desk and chair in the corner, and a full-sized bed by the window.

As I continue to inspect Cruz's room, I can't help but compare his personal space to mine. My room isn't dirty, per se, I keep it reasonably clean—washing my sheets and vacuuming the floor regularly—but I'm a slave to clutter. I never throw anything away that can be reused. A byproduct of growing up poor, probably. I also leave my shit everywhere—makeup, clothes, more makeup, more clothes—so my room looks pretty messy even though I know where to find everything. I tell myself that it's an organized chaos.

Overall, Cruz's room appears way neater and tidier than mine. There are no piles of laundry or clutter anywhere. He's definitely not a hoarder like me. Even his bed is made up. Plain gray sheets with matching gray pillows and a matching gray duvet cover are arranged perfectly on his mattress like a magazine spread.

What a weirdo.

What kind of teenager has the motivation to make his bed every morning?

I roll my eyes at him even though he's not even here to see me do it.

A poster of the soccer player, Cristiano Ronaldo, hangs on one of his walls. It's the only picture hanging in his room. I notice that, much like the rest of their house, there aren't any photos of Cruz or his dad anywhere. I don't see any pictures of his mom, either.

I wonder if he'll ever tell me what happened to her?

My attention snaps to the bookshelf beside his desk. Dozens of paperbacks and hard covers line the shelves. Although, there are noticeably more soccer trophies and plaques displayed on the shelves than actual books.

I tiptoe closer to inspect the books.

Hmm.

What does a guy like Cruz actually read?

Hell, I didn't even know that he liked to read!

I scan through a few titles with interest.

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury.