The Bad Boy and The New Girl

Chapter 12

We got to the bathroom and I leaned against the counter as Mason closed the door behind us. I watched as he started opening cabinet doors and looking inside.

"What are you.." I started to ask, but trailed off as he grabbed a first aid kit from one of the cupboards and set it on the counter, then shut the door and stood up. I slowly made my way over to him and propped myself up against the counter as he washed and dried his hands. 

I watched quietly as he turned the tap back on and wetted a clean flannel, then he gently moved my left arm so that a cut on my forearm was positioned under the stream of running water. I hadn't noticed it before, and it wasn't anything severe, but it was a little deeper than the other scratches covering my arms from where the shattered glass had fallen over me.

I looked back up at Mason, who was stood in front of me holding the wet flannel in one hand. He asked me to turn my head, so I did, and I felt him carefully tuck my hair behind my ear, exposing the cut across my cheek. He moved his free hand round to hold my head in place, gently tilting it back a little, and then brought the flannel to my face.

I winced as it just barely made contact with my skin, and Mason immediately moved the flannel away again. The whole area around the cut felt sore and even the slightest pressure caused an intense stinging pain.

"Sorry," he quickly apologised, "I just need to-"

"I know," I mumbled, cutting him off. The wound needed to be cleaned, even if it hurt.

He paused for a moment, still looking concerned, then slowly pressed the flannel to my face again. I gritted my teeth and tried to focus on the muffled, distorted sound of the music coming from the party downstairs in an attempt to distract myself from the pain shooting through my cheek. Mason was cleaning the cut very gently, but it was painful nonetheless.

"Nearly there," he murmured. The wet flannel moved away from my face, replaced with a new one as Mason gently patted the area dry.

He finally stopped, and I watched as he leaned over and turned the tap off. He cleaned and dried the cut on my arm too, then rummaged around in the first aid kit for dressing pads, tape and a bandage.

"What happened?" he asked softly as I watched him open a dressing pad and carefully place it over the cut on my arm. It wasn't quite long enough to cover it.

"Cody..erm.." I started. I paused for a few seconds, then took a deep breath and said, "he spiked my drink."

Mason froze where he was, in the middle of taping the dressing pad into place. His jaw clenched and unclenched, then he flatly asked, "he what?"

"He said he gave me something to help me lighten up and have a good time," I told him. I felt oddly calm as I repeated what Cody had said to me, like I was numb from the shock of what had happened.

Mason bit his lip and breathed heavily for a moment, still looking down at my arm. I waited as he tried to calm himself down before he spoke again.

"So when you said that you didn't have anything to drink..?"

"I don't drink, and I thought it was just water in my cup, but.." I trailed off.

He nodded, and after a few more seconds of trying to calm down, Mason resumed pressing down the tape on either side of the dressing pad and asked, "what else happened?"

"Well, I started feeling unwell during truth or dare and later I started to think maybe my drink got spiked so I came upstairs to get away to somewhere quiet. But Cody was up here too and when I tried to get past him he grabbed my hand and made some weird comment about how he knew I was 'into him' even if I needed help admitting it. So I asked what that meant and then I asked if he spiked my drink which was a bad idea but I wasn't really thinking straight, and he admitted it and kept getting closer and wouldn't let go of me so I slapped him and he hit me and threw me into the cabinet and-" I stopped suddenly and caught my breath.