Shady's Forbidden Love

Helping Her Recover

Y/n's POV

I follow up behind Marshall as he brings me upstairs. He leads me into this gigantic room. The first thing I noticed was the king sized bed. There are two clear doors that lead to an outdoor pool if you go out of the room. There are red curtains on each window. It's beautiful.
In the room, Marshall opened a door and it lead to the bathroom which was also huge.

Y/n, you could sit on the table while I get the supplies from the cabinet.

Okay.

I look behind me and there's a bathroom table where the sink is, which has a mirror hanging behind it. I guess I'll just sit on there while I wait. I hold on to the table and take a slight leap backwards and sit my butt on it.
I look over and see Marshall grabbing some cottons and other supplies from the bathroom cabinets. I watch him admiring how he's trying to help me. It's really sweet how he's willing to do all this for me and it doesn't even seem forced. I guess he isn't as bad as I thought he was. He's been a gentleman to me lately. The teasing is just a bit extra for the humor. He really is a nice guy so far.

Okay, I have all the supplies. Do you want to clean up your bruise yourself, or do you need help?

I think I'm good. I'll just do it myself. You don't have to babysit me every second of the day, Marshall.

Okay, okay. I know I'm not your babysitter. Your parents aren't even paying me.

I laugh and playfully hit his chest. Woah. He's got some um, abs. He seems really fit. Damn. I never really noticed until I felt it through his shirt. Okay, back to our conversation.

Shut up, Marshall.

Okay, fine you got me. I'll just wait outside for you until you're finished. Call me if you need anything.

Okay, I'll do that.

Marshall leaves through the door. I get down from the table and stand up facing the mirror. I grab a cotton and put alcohol on it. Fuck, this shit is gonna burn. I think I should wash my hands before I touch my bruise to get rid of any germs. I turn on the faucet and wash my hands.
As I'm doing that, I accidentally run my index finger against the bottom of the faucet and I cut myself. Badly. Fuck. It's bleeding. What am I gonna do? I'm supposed to be cleaning up my bruise but no. I'm here panicking and squeezing my finger wishing for the pain to stop. Should I call Marshall? Ugh. I don't want to bother him anymore. Maybe I should just call him. I seem incapable of even taking care of myself. I'll just wash the blood off my finger first. I run my hands through the water and slightly dab my finger with a cotton to get rid of any extra blood. The cut is still visible, but at least the blood is gone.

Marshall!

No answer.

Marshall!

I hear running coming up the stairs. He swings the door open and he's breathing heavily.

What? What's wrong?

Well, funny story, actually. I was washing my hands, cut myself, and well, this happened.

I bring up my finger and show it to him while still holding on to it because the pain is still there.

How the fuck did that happen by washing your hands...?

I ran my finger really hard against the bottom of the faucet and well..you know the rest.

Ugh, Y/n. I knew you needed help. Time to babysit you again. Sit back up on the table.

I do as he says and I see him getting out a bandaid. He takes off the wrapper and grabs my finger. He slowly, but gently puts it on and wraps the bandaid around it.

Well, since you can't even wash your hands, I'm guessing you need help cleaning up your bruise.

I can wash my hands. But um, yeah, help would be nice. My finger is in excruciating pain right now.

Okay. Just make sure you don't cut yourself by running your fingers on the edges of the table.

You don't know how to shut up sometimes, do you?

Nope.

I roll my eyes at his sarcastic comment. I watch Marshall pouring alcohol onto a cotton. He turns to me and we share eye contact. He gently puts his hand on my cheek and slowly lays the cotton on my bruise. I budge a little bit and close my eyes while I make a slight noise coming from my mouth. I look down. It's obvious I'm in pain right now.

I'm sorry. I'll try and be a little softer.

He puts moves his hand from my cheek and lifts up my chin. He looks into my eyes reassuring me that it'll be fine. He slowly dabs the cotton on my bruise and does it gently. He looks at me while I watch him and he slows down the dabbing. We're kinda just looking at each other right now. I look down at his lips. His lips are the perfect shape. They're full and pink. And his eyes. They're the perfect shade of blue. There are so many things amazing about them, that I could easily get lost in his eyes just by looking at them. I pay attention to his movements. His eyes shift over to my lips. He looks like he forgot everything he was just doing and just focuses on my lips. It looks like he's seduced right now. He looks back up into my eyes. He's slightly blushing but looks kinda embarrassed. He tries to shake off that little moment that just happened. He continues dabbing the cotton on my bruise.
His hand feels warm against my cheek. I push my cheek even more up against his hand to have more warmth. It's warming and feels nice. I hope he didn't notice.

Okay, I think you're good now. He puts down the cotton and takes his hand off my cheek.

While he's putting back away the supplies, he turns over and looks at me.

How's your finger? Is it still hurting?

No, it's getting better. Thank you though.

No problem, Y/n.