𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 | ✓

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩 𝟑𝟎

I stirred in the bed, trying to ignore the throbbing pain that pulsed through my body. I had tried squeezing my eyes shut and going back to sleep but I'm left with no choice but to get up and search for painkillers.

In desperate attempt to ease the pain, I gently slip out of Ryder's arm, not wanting to wake him up, before I stroll down the hallway, and into the kitchen.

I look up at the medication cabinet, which seems somewhat higher than it usually is. With a deep breath, I began my climb, my fingers gripping tightly onto the smooth marble countertop as I gently pull myself up before carefully opening the cabinet door, and searching for the painkillers.

As I searched for them in silence, a faint grunt escaped my lips in frustration. Suddenly, a deep and unexpected voice startled me from beneath, warm breath running up my leg. "Red suits you." He teases. My brows furrowed in confusion as I glanced down, only to find that my shirt had ridden up my thighs, exposing the crimson lace underwear I had on.

Which coincidentally, happens to be the ones that Ryder had bought me for my birthday. I was desperate for underwear, and it's not every day that Ryder sees me without pants on.

With a grunt, I climbed down from the counter feeling a little embarrassed, my cheeks burning up as he stands there, a shit-eating grin plastered all over his face. Which only makes me more irritated. With an effortless motion, he reaches for the bottle of painkillers, before gently placing them in my hand.

"Are you alright?" he questions, concern etched on his face as I turn, shaking two into the palm of my hand. "I'm fine, just feel a little sick." I brush it off, lifting the glass to my lips and swallowing the pills along with a gulp of water. The concern on his face doesn't leave, if anything he grows more worried with my response.

I head towards the couch, having the sudden need to take a seat. He follows me, a few steps behind. "I'll call off work." He states. Before I could even utter a word of refusal, he's already hushed me with a gesture and walked away, his phone pressed against his ear.

I sink further into the couch as the room spins around me, a wave of nausea washing over me. I'm rarely sick, I hate being sick. Even worse, I hate vomiting.

He's quick to return back to the living room, holding a blanket and other essentials in his arms. "Ryder, I can take care of myself," I mumble, trying to take over as he fixes the blanket over my legs.

he shakes his head, batting my hands away. "you're sick, I need to—" I grabbed the blanket and yanked it up to my chin, "I'm not a child, Ryder."

Apparently being sick turns me into a bitch. But it's true, I've been looking after myself when I'm sick since I was seven, my parents were never around enough to help me, so I learnt what I needed and how to cure it.

"I'm not going to let you suffer when I know I can do something to help, so just shut up and let me do my job." he snaps, placing the painkillers and a bottle of water on the coffee table. I wanted to argue, to tell him that I didn't need his help, but he seems pretty determined for some reason.