Me & Mine

46. The Girl With The Compass Tattoo

The water stings and I yank my head away. "Doesn't feel that good, huh?" Kane smirks. I sniff and think back at the times I had cleaned his face up. He owed me one. It's only logical.

"I wasn't drinking," I say. Kane's face is close to mine, so close I can feel his warm breath on my skin. He studies my face and slowly dabs the damp cloth over the cut on my cheek.

"Where were you?" He asks coldly. I sigh and close my eyes.

"Wells'."

Kane stiffens, his hand lingering on my face. "Did he?" There it is again, that vile anger in his voice. It would scare me if not for the fact that after today, I feel like I can take on the whole world. Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, though. I yank my face away again, the roughness of his movements hurting me.

"No."

"What happened?"

"There was this drunk dude–"

"So you were at a party. Again?! Damn it, Fay, I thought you weren't drinking?" The accusation in his voice cut through me deeper than that drunk boy ever could. My lips stiffen and I glare at him. Why does he always assume the worst of me? I just told him I wasn't fucking drinking!

"Nevermind then," I say, my voice dry, "I won't tell you what happened."

"Fay," he insists, but I shrug.

"You never told me what happened to you," I remind him, and he shakes his head slowly.

"Fine. I won't ask again."

He throws the blood soaked cloth in the sink and grabs a glass from the cupboard. He fills it with water and hands it to me. "Drink."

He walks over to the freezer and throws me a frozen bag of peas. He grabs a clean towel and takes the peas from my hands again, wrapping them in the towel and carefully holding it against my eye.

"Thank you," I say softly, "and I'm sorry I bothered you with this."

He stares at me for a minute and then his eyes soften.

"You're not bothering me."

***

We're not friends. Then what the hell are we? I don't remember falling asleep last night. It hurts to open my eyes. My face feels numb, but there's a distinct pain just below my skin, gnawing and biting and stinging. And then it comes back to me. Everything. It all replays in my head: me driving away from a scared Harley, me promising myself that I would tell Max everything, the boy that tried to assault me, Kane... I sigh and try to hoist myself up, but my head feels weary and I can't seem to find my balance.

I'm in a bed, with grey sheets and a soft pillow. Kane must have carried me up here. I stretch my neck and let my eyes roam the room. It's smaller than mine, with dark wooden furniture and a TV so large it feels out of place. A sharp pain drills through my skull and I groan. I trace my fingers over my eye. It's still swollen and I can barely open it, but it's not as bad as last night. Last night. Oh shit! Max expected me home last night! He must feel so worried!

I shoot up straight and feel my body refuse. I cry out in pain and hear stumbling at the foot of the bed. Kane jumps up from the floor and stretches his body quickly before rushing over to me. He places a hand on my shoulder and pushes me down on the bed again.

"Slowly," he says, "you need time to heal."

"Kane..." I whisper, unable to process what just happened. He had slept on the floor. He had given me his bed and slept on the floor. He could have taken the couch downstairs or, you know, a bed in any other room in this house, but he had slept on the floor only to be in the same room as me. A small smile creeps up my face, stretching my torn lips. I grunt again.