The Flyer & The Frat Star

The Question

Josephine

The next few days go by in an endless cycle of boredom and babysitting. Khadijha, Shane, and Hero have mastered their routine of ensuring that I'm never left alone. I'm getting frustrated and antsy waiting to get cleared by the trainer to resume my normal life of school and cheerleading, and I'm absolutely sick of everyone treating me like I'm about to break. I have a concussion for god's sake, I'm not dying. I feel like a prisoner in my own dorm room. They never let me use my phone or watch tv, citing that the lights and sounds would slow down the healing process. I'm not allowed to attend class or even go to watch practice. I feel like I can't even think without one of them breathing down my neck to rest. Thankfully I only have one more day of this torture before my follow-up appointment with the trainer on Saturday.

I hear a knock on my door, and Khadijha stands to go answer it before I can even think to sit up in my bed. "Changing of the guard?" I call out as I see Hero make his way into our room and Khadijha grabs her bag, kisses my cheek, and heads out to practice. Hero simply chuckles at my remark and removes his sneakers before sliding into my bed next to me.

Ever since that first day we've kind of adopted the routine of cuddling and him reading to me. I can't deny how amazing it feels to be encased in his arms, completely encompassed in his intoxicating scent. We haven't spoken about the proximity or why we've continued our little ritual, but there's an unspoken agreement that this is always what we do when it's his turn to watch me. And if I had to choose between my three prison guards, I can definitely say my time spent with Hero is my favorite. I try my best not to let my feelings for him plague my mind, falsely convincing myself that it would hurt my head. I chalk it up to him wanting to comfort me as a friend during my recovery period, nothing more than a platonic gesture. But that doesn't stop the goosebumps that rise every time his fingertips brush my skin.

Hero grabs the book from my nightstand and opens to the page we stopped on after I've snuggled comfortably into his chest. "Hero," I begin, my voice clearly indicating that I want something.

"Yes, Josephine?" He looks down at me, smirking at my obvious tactic.

"As much as I love to hear your beautiful British voice reading me poetry, can we do something else? I feel like a princess locked in a castle," I huff, pouting my lips.

"Okay, princess, and what would you like to do?" Hero smiles playfully at me.

"I mean I really feel like I can at least watch a movie or something. I'm getting cleared in a day!" I whine.

"Nope, not happening. No screens. Plus, you don't even know for sure that you'll be cleared," I groan at his refusal. "We can talk if you want," he suggests, looking at me unsurely.

"Talk? About what?" I turn my body more to the side so I can look at his face fully.

"I dunno. Just forget I said it," he averts his eyes from my gaze, seemingly embarrassed at his suggestion.

"No. We can talk," I smile up at him and he returns a shy smile back. "Will you tell me about yourself?" I take the opportunity to attempt to solve the riddle that is Hero Fiennes-Tiffin.

"What would you like to know?" he shifts his body along with mine to lay down flat on my bed. We're now both laying on our sides facing each other, and I'm thankful for the foot of space between us, or I'd be positive he could feel my heart beating out of my chest.

"Why did you come to the states?" I ask him the question that I've been wondering since I heard his gorgeous accent.

"Oh, so we're getting right into the heavy shit, huh?" he smiles, letting me know he isn't serious, but I can see a hint of apprehension behind his eyes. Did I hit a sore spot?