TMI (2014 Collector's Dream Winner)

TMI - Chapter 29

Meg shifted and stretched, her eyes popping open when the searing pain in her hand protested her movements. She struggled upright, blinking at her surroundings. Her hand was wrapped in a thick gauze bandage, and burned like the time Bailey slipped with the freakin' hair straightener.

The blood.

Chase.

Her mind spun when the day’s events came rushing back. She remembered Chase and his dad driving her to the hospital but not much after that. Her hand wasn't the only body part throbbing; her stomach was pissed off that she'd missed lunch and apparently, dinner. She scanned the room. It was one AM, according to the clock beside the bed.

Not her bed.

Holy crap, she was in Chase’s bed.

She flung the covers off and froze when her feet hit the floor.

He'd tucked her in. God! Was it even humanly possible for a guy to be this sweet?

She'd never been in his room. She'd seen it from her window, of course. It was a cool room. He liked movies. DVDs spilled from the shelves he had on one wall. His desk was littered with video game components. He had a bunch of controllers – one in pieces – a few hand-held games and even an ancient Game Cube system strewn across his desk. In a pile on the floor beside the desk, he had art books – sketch pads, history texts, boxes of pencils and charcoals. But it was the pictures stuck to the mirror behind his door that grabbed her heart. Pictures of his parents, his grandparents, his brothers – and two of her that she didn't remember taking. The bed smelled like Chase, a mix of his sports-scented body wash and sweat, and she stood up to escape its power, only to be clobbered with a pressing need for the bathroom.

She found her battered old canvas shoes next to the bed. She slipped them on, but couldn't find her sweatshirt anywhere. Her phone and house key were in the pocket. No matter; she shrugged. She could jog around the block and climb in the bathroom window. With a slow twist of the door knob, she was at the door to his room but couldn't resist turning back for one last look.

It was the only time she'd see it.

In the dim hallway – they'd left the light on for her -- she crept down the stairs to avoid waking up the rest of the family. Tomorrow, she'd bake them brownies to say thanks, but right now, she needed to pee and eat and sleep, in that order. Tip-toeing across the first floor, she'd just reached the front door when a deep voice rasped, "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

She spun with a hand to her mouth to cover her startled shriek. "Chase! Oh, my God, you scared me to death."

He was stretched out on the sofa in the living room, a thin knit blanket barely covering his lean torso. He tossed it aside, got up and met her at the door, naked to the waist. Meg tried hard not to notice. He reached for her bandaged hand, examined it from every angle and muttered, "Yeah, I guess we're even then. You gave us a damn good scare tonight."

Meg tugged her hand back. "Yeah, about that. Um, thanks."

Chase frowned down at her. "No problem. Go back to bed."

Her eyes popped. "What, here? I can't! I have to go home."

He was shaking his head before she finished her sentence. "Uh-uh. You heard the doctor; he released you into our care." He angled his head and slowly ran his eyes up and down her body. "How do you feel? Any headache or nausea?"

"Um, just a little dizzy, but that's because I'm hungry."

That rallied Chase into action. "Right. Come on." He grabbed her good hand and walked toward the kitchen, but she dug in her heels.