Page 141

Together, we laugh.

For a while, we sit in the comfort of one another, until Fia jostles back and forth, a few groans quietly passing her lips.

“You okay?”

Wiggling down my lap, she rises from her elbows to face me.

“I’m just going to use the restroom really quick. Be right back.”

It’s been at least twenty minutes, and Fia has yet to come back from the bathroom. I don’t want to chase after her; after all, I want her comfortable here in every way, but I’m beginning to grow worried.

Sitting taller on the couch, I ponder how to address this. How to make sure it doesn’t come off as pushy. I hover from the living room to the bathroom, knocking gently, before resting my ear to the door.

“Fia, everything okay?” I ask softly.

“Yeah—” Her response is sharp, but the crack in her voice is easily detectable.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I just, uh, I’ll be right out.”

As her voice falters, worry trickles down my neck.

“Can I get you anything? Is your stomach upset?”

I hope she didn’t eat something that made her sick.

“No. I mean, kinda.” She pauses for a beat.

My heart tightens.

“I, uh, I started my period.”

Relief instantly whips through me. I would’ve felt terrible if she got sick—a period I can deal with.

“Oh no, did you pack anything for it?” Worry coats my words.

“In my bag, there’s a small, sparkly pink velvet pouch. In it, there are period underwear. Do you mind grabbing a pair for me?”

“Of course, stay right there,” I say like a damn idiot.

Where the fuck else is she going?

In my closet, I go right to her luggage. Feeling oddly satisfied that she trusts me enough, I peruse through her clothes until a bright pink bag catches my attention. Several pairs of thick panties take up the inside. I grab one and run back down the stairs, steadying my breath before knocking again.

“Back, can I come in?”

A few silent beats pass through the wooden barrier, until she finally agrees. When I gently press the door open, I find Fia hovering over her knees, moaning in pain.

“Baby, why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Sometimes it creeps up on me. I forgot it was time.” She doesn’t look up at me, still holding her head in her hands. It takes everything in me not to replace hers with my own.

“I guess that’s why you didn’t leave a bite of ice cream,” I tease, sitting in front of her on the floor.

She chuckles, then quickly assumes the same position.

“You don’t have to sit in here with me— This is probably disgusting.”