Criminal Love

48. Opposites Attract

Friday morning

Ouch, ouch... I can't feel my right leg... I can't move my left arm! I can't breathe! What's happening?! Help!

Dylan begins to wake up with beads of sweat on his forehead and his heart hammering wildly in his chest at his hypochondriac thoughts. He feels a weight on his body, trapping him, making it hard for him to inhale. He's still in a drowsy haze, not fully conscious yet. All he knows is some of his limbs are numb, almost paralyzed. This is not right. Where is he? Did one of those spiders bit him, the ones that immobilize your body and make people think you're dead? Oh, dear heaven! He saw that in a documentary the other day, but do those crawly, scary creatures live in Florida too?

It hasn't been but a few seconds since Dylan started waking up and he is already freaking out. Finally, he crack opens one eye and looks warily around.

The walls of the room he's in are purple. Hospital rooms do not have purple walls. He shifts his head from one side to the other and a scent of baby powder coming from the sheets wafts him. Yue? He lifts his head enough so that his chin touches his chest to inspect what's weighing him down and sees a tuft of incredibly messy hair that emanates a sea smell.

Geez! This woman has taken me hostage!

What has Yue done to him? She has her legs wrapped around Dylan's right leg, hence cutting his blood circulation; she is holding his left hand tight under her body, and she's a dead weight on his chest, preventing him from breathing properly.

Yue did this in Key West too, but since then she had toned the proprietorial sleeping patterns down a notch. Until now.

"Cookie, I can't move, wake up..." he whispers in an attempt to wake her gently.

However, Dylan soon notices the light coming from the window is too bright to be early morning. It must be at least 7.30 am. This is bad!

He wiggles his head around trying to find a clock or device that would tell him the time. He didn't hear the alarm coming from his phone; but where is his phone? The backpack... In the car. Crap!

Suddenly he detects a small clock on top of Yue's nightstand. Since he slept with his contact lenses on, he will try and zero in on the tiny thing to read the hands. The big hand is on the 9, which is not good, but where's the small hand that marks the hour?

Dylan stretches his body and Yue plonks on the bed, dragging parts of him with her because she's still clenched around his leg and clamping his hand. She looks absolutely ridiculous and uncomfortable, and endearing. Focus, Dylan!

"Shen Yueeeeee!!! It's 7.45!!! Agent Michaels is coming to the office in 45 minutes!!!" Dylan screams, panic in his voice.

Yue snaps to a seating position. "What?" Her foggy brain has not processed the information.

"We need to hurry up! Get dressed. You have less than 15 minutes! Quickly!" he urges her, shaking her shoulders slightly for effect.

"I need to shower," she simply stammers, touching her hair, which feels hideous and reeks of decomposing seashells, according to her.

Since Yue does not seem to grasp the gravity of the situation, Dylan lifts her in his arms and carries her to the bathroom. She looks confused and cute and heavy-eyed... He cannot help but smooch her over and over as he walks and sits her on the toilet.

"Man, I love you so much. You're the most adorable thing ever. Is this why you're always late, because mornings are so hard for you?"

Yue tilts her head quizzically. What is he talking about? Why is she sitting on the toilet with her beach clothes on? Oh, well, she needs to pee anyway. She lowers her garments, leans her head sideways to rest it on the sink as she does every morning and waits for the stream to flow.