Counter Lotus

Chapter 20

Chapter 20

I was sitting under the patio overhang, grudgingly munching on cold fast-food. The sky was still gray, the fog prominent, and the gentle mist continued. The outdoor loveseat's removeable cushions were damp, making my ass and thighs wetter and colder. Getting sick at least caused us to take a break from our heavy conversation, but I was not a happy camper (or boater, I guess) about how it happened.

Throwing up was embarrassing. Throwing up because of nerves... embarrassing and pathetic. I didn't want him thinking I couldn't handle the truth. "I told you it was dumb to bring me on a boat when I was feeling sick," I mumbled.

Yards away, he was strained over the railing, hosing the vomit off the side of his boat. "Funny. You felt more than fine once I gave you your energy back."

"Think whatever you want, but I did not get sick because of my nerves or anxiety," I lied.

"You sure?"

"Yes! I'm not as weak as you think," I snapped. "Plus, I didn't have much to eat today, so the food is already making me feel better too."

"Huh. If only someone suggested you eat earlier."

Ugh, he was really getting under my skin now. Finishing off a few more fries, I narrowed my eyes. "You're right. I totally should have chowed down this medium fry earlier instead of getting caught up in the secrets of life and death. I'm just such an air-head. At least you saved the day by having a hose on here. Truly, thank god because it's not like one small wave could easily just wash it away." It's not like I just threw up (and nicely did it over the side). It's not like I was damp, chilly, or had the biggest bombshell in history dropped on me! "I don't know if I'll ever forgive myself for getting a little vomit of side of your boat. Next time I get sick, I promise to first jump in the water and then throw up."

Ignoring my sarcasm, Peter finished up. After rolling up the hose, he finally walked over. He looked me over and the greasy bag next to me, which I helped myself to by the way. I helped myself to the bathroom, this food, and this spot on the patio. That's right, after I threw up, he did nothing to help me. Now, believe me: I did not want any sympathy, favors, or coddling. That didn't mean it was okay to be uncaring though. Which made me quickly object his very late offer.

"Did you want something to drink? I can get you some water."

I shoved my hand in the bag for another fry. "No, but thanks for offering 10 minutes later."

Amused, he went inside and came out with a cup of water, offering it to me regardless. "You could have easily got it yourself when you headed inside and grabbed the food."

"Exactly. I could have and would have if I wanted it. But you still should have offered."

"I actually thought about it, but I enjoy seeing you get all riled up," he smirked, sipping the water I denied. Then, he noticed goosebumps on my arms. "I will say I should have offered you a coat or blanket. I'll go grab one for you if you want."

"Nope. Completely fine."

"There's no reason to be stubborn."

"There's every reason."

"Well, is there anything I can I get for you?" he asked in a warmer voice, eyes more inviting. "You know, your assumption is wrong. I don't think you're weak."

My aggravation softened. I didn't need a damn thing from him; I didn't want his late offers. However, I could see the respect he did have for me seep in. "I'm glad you don't think I'm weak. My point is though that it doesn't hurt to be courteous."

His eyes stayed intently in mine. "Yes, it does, actually," he whispered gently. What did that mean? There was more meaning behind those words, but he quickly moved on, and glance to his watch. "Anyway, now, if your stomach can handle it, are you ready for me to explain a little more?"