DELINQUENT | C. SPRINGER

A Forest Hookup

It took a while, but you two did find your way back.

"I'm filthy," you grunt as you walk into the cabin, looking down at your mud covered clothing.

"Shower is upstairs down the left hall. I think third door on the right," Connie pulls his beanie off and sets it down.

He hadn't said anything on your way back and he doesn't seem to want to talk now. You understand his frustration.

You're frustrated.

You don't know why you can't just allow yourself to be with him. Is it fear of it going wrong? Is it that you can't believe he's actually into you for you? Whatever it is, you want it to stop. You want him. You want it to work.

"Thanks," you nod and make your way up the stairs, your thigh hurting more and more with each step.

You grab some spare clothes and head towards the bathroom. Once inside, you turn on the water to let it warm up and then set your stuff in the counter.

First you start with your gloves and beanie, then your hoodie, and finally, you shimmy out of your leggings.

You look in the mirror and find a large gash on your thigh. It's bleeding, but most is dry by now. "Oh shit," you cringe and touch around the wound, finding it tender and sore.

It's pretty bad.

You take a deep breath and search through the cupboards, trying to find a first aide kit. After no luck, you open the door and peek out into the hallway.

Connie has just walked up the stairs, pulling his hoodie off, his shirt riding up slightly, showing off his v-line. You lick your lower lip and wait for him to take it all the way off.

"Hey," you call out when he starts walking to the opposite hall.

Connie turns back and has confusion written on his face. "What's up?"

"Does this place have a first aide kit?" You hide behind the door jam, not wanting him to see your lack of clothes even though he's seen all of you by now.

Connie nods and goes back down stairs. You retreat back into the bathroom and sit on the counter, cleaning the blood from around the wound with a wash cloth.

A minute later there's a knock on the door and then Connie walks in without letting you answer. You look up as he comes in and shuts the door behind him.

"What's wrong-" his eyes examine you and then land on your thigh. "Is that from the fall?"

You nod and reach out for the kit. He looks at your hand and ignores it, then sets it on the counter beside you and stands in front of you.

"Why didn't you say anything?" He frowns down at you, obviously concerned.

You shrug. "I don't know... I don't say a lot of things."

"Maybe you should," Connie pushes his body in between your legs and grabs an alcohol wipe from the kit and tears it open. "Just a suggestion."

You scoff with slight amusement. "Thanks for the suggestion, Connie. I'll take it into consideration."

He smiles, but he coughs it away. "This is gonna sting," he takes the wipe and slides it over your wound, causing you to hiss in pain.

You grab onto his bicep and squeeze. He looks down at it and narrows his eyes, almost an annoyed look. You take your hand away and place it on your leg, unsure how to feel about his reaction.

Connie grabs a cotton pad and places it on the wound. He then takes hold of you, just below the knee and pushes your leg up so it exposes the back part of your thigh.