From Me to Us

Chapter Twelve

OLIVIA

Walking into Daniels room makes me remember about how Bradman and I hid in the closet and listened in on the fight between Savannah and him. I haven't seen her since that night and I thank the lord for it. Daniel takes his beats off from around his neck and places it on the desk next to his computer, while I stand awkwardly at the entrance to his room.

He still doesn't have a shirt on and his abs tighten whenever he moves, making me distracted so easily. My eyes follow his every move without even realising it. He's a big dude, like muscular, broad and tall. He easily towers over me. I'm not a petite girl but being near him, he makes me feel small and I kind of like it to be honest.

"Stop lurking by the door and being a creep. The bathroom is through this door." He says, not sparing me a glance.

I head to the bathroom without saying anything. His bathroom is huge. Modern and slick, black and white and oddly enough, quite clean for football dudes.

According to Bradman, Daniel did get the best room so it would be no surprise he got the best bathroom as well. He taps the bench of the vanity. When I don't move, he rolls his eyes and he stalked to me and grabbed my waist, careful not to touch the cuts and picks me up. He places me on the bathroom counter and I squeak a little in surprise but he doesn't say anything.

He reaches up to the top shelf and places a big first aid box next to me on the sink. The box is full of different bandages, medications and cleaning supplies. No surprise as to why they would have such a huge health care package considering they are athletes and probably get hurt themselves a lot.

He leans over to the hooks on the wall and puts on a backwards cap. His brown, silky hair flows out at the sides under the cap and I can't help but stare.

He works on my hands first, his body almost but no quite between my legs. This is such a new territory for us, usually he would be making smart ass comments to me or would ignore me all together like he has been doing since after Mondays classes.

He could've apologised to me for his dog jumping on me and went on his way, not giving a shit if I'm hurt or not, but something tells me that no mattered how much of a douche he pretended to be, he might have a sliver of a heart in there somewhere. Like come on, he brought me back to his house and is cleaning my wounds himself. This is definitely different, weird but oddly not uncomfortable.

He doesn't say anything because he is so focused on picking out the small rocks impeded in the skin of my palms and I flinch.

"Does that hurt?" he asked and I shake my head, urging him to continue. He expertly wraps my hands in bandages after cleaning them and then steps back to get a better look at my stomach. "Hop off the counter. I need to pull your leggings down a bit."

"What?!" I exclaim. If this ass thinks he's serious, I will reign down hell for him.

He just chuckles while watching me squirm. "Relax, Clarke. Just to your hips. There are cuts that run under the hem of your pants and I won't be able to clean them if I can't see the rest of the cuts, okay?"

"Oh, sorry." I blush hard in embarrassment. "I can't use my hands so your gonna have to..." I trail off and he nods knowingly.

He steps towards me and lowers himself into a squat. Because he is really tall, his face still reaches up to my stomach. His hands skim the sides of my waist before slowly reaching for the top of my pants, hooking his long fingers in the hem and grazing my bare stomach. My body erupts in chills from his one touch and I shiver a little. If he noticed it, he didn't say anything and I find myself silently thanking him.