Cool Cool Grass

2

"Son of a bitch," I breathed as I lay there with my hands covering my face. Such a lovely end to the evening. At least his stomach realized we had been making a big mistake and tried to stop us.

"Bloody hell! Fuck! Oh my God, oh my God. I am so sorry! Oh God, Tierney, I'm so sorry." Tom all but sobbed as he sat there post vomit, holding his head in his hands.

"Don't worry; these things happen. Let's go inside, get cleaned up and get you into bed so you can feel better, ok?" I got to my feet and tried to shake as much of his left over dinner and Jameson off of me and onto the grass as possible. "Do you think you'll be ok to stand and walk into your flat? Or do you need to sit here a bit longer?" The last thing I wanted to do was move him too soon and have a repeat performance of his gastric pyrotechnics before I could get him into the bathroom in his flat.

"I think I'm ok to go," he said sounding dejected. He wouldn't look at me, likely embarrassed over the realization of what had just happened.

"Well let's get you up then." I stood over his legs and bent over, placing my hands under his armpits to help him stand. We got him into a standing position, but almost fell back over in the process. His hands landed on my shoulders, trying to steady himself. I tucked myself under his left arm again and we walked toward his flat.

As soon as we got in, he bolted for the bathroom. We had made it just in time it seemed. It sounded like his stomach was trying to turn itself inside out from where I was standing, so I went into his small kitchen to get him a glass of water. It may have been a compact kitchen with lots of appliances sitting on the counter, but the "clutter" was amazingly well organized and orderly, as always. And it was clean. So clean. However in contrast his kitchen table was buried under what appeared to be scripts and his laptop.

When I made my way into his bathroom, he was sitting on his knees, resting his forehead on the toilet seat, and I wasn't sure if he was awake or asleep. I set the glass of water on the sink and proceeded to grab his washcloth out of the shower. I ran it under some cold water before laying it on the back of his neck which made him flinch. He sat up and looked at me, tears pooling in his eyes. I could tell from his tear stained cheeks that he'd been crying for a while. I didn't know if it was from embarrassment or just from the act of being sick. It didn't matter. I just wanted to take care of him and make him feel better. Oh hell...I had it bad for this man and I didn't know if there was any going back.

I reached over his head and flushed the toilet and then crouched down in front of him. "How are you feeling? Any better?" I removed the washcloth from his neck and proceeded to wipe the tears from his cheeks before moving to wipe his mouth and chin. His hand grabbed mine.

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Do you think I'm not a nice person?" I will admit that in our time together, I had been pretty rough on him. Sometimes I just couldn't take his Pollyanna-ishness...especially not at some ungodly hour. I am NOT a morning person per se. I still wake up at 5am every morning and usually go for a run, but that doesn't mean I like it. It's just how my body clock is set after years of military and government work. While we may have started off on the wrong foot, I thought we had set everything to rights not long after. However, my job is to keep him safe which means I sometimes have to be the ogre. I have to say the things that people don't like to hear.

"No, it's not that. Are you just doing this because it's your job?" His eyes bored into my own.

"If you'd asked me that a few months ago I would have said yes, because you're my client. But I like you.....now. You're not so bad of a guy. And I want to help you. It's never fun to feel sick." He just kept staring at me. I broke eye contact and reached over his shoulder for the glass of water, my breast brushing against his shoulder and causing me to inhale sharply. "Here." I handed him the glass and he started to drink, but I had to grab his arm to stop him from drinking too much. "Just a little! Not too much. I want you to be able to sleep in your bed and not here on the bathroom floor. Do you think you're ready to get up? We need to get these clothes off of you and clean you up as much as possible."