Coffee & Criminals

15. A Ride Back Home

"So, seriously, what did you do to get this injured?" I asked, searching for the beginning of the tape roll. The tape was that clear kind and I had been turning it around in my hands for at least five minutes by now, trying to find out where it began. The weak lighting from above didn't exactly help, either. "You look like you died but got called back up by a necromancer. What is this?" Without hesitating, I prodded his bruised pink cheek. "You better watch YouTube tutorials on how to apply blush. What you're doing isn't working."

"I didn't get hurt on purpose, Florence." Wolfe grimaced. "I know it sounds shocking, but there are things that I can't control."

 I pulled a face at him and opened the first aid kit. Immediately, a bunch of empty bandaid wrappers came springing out. I plucked them all out and set them besides me on the bench. Underneath the mess was medical supplies. Generic stuff, like thick white bandages and alcohol. There was also a little pink Dora the Explorer pocket watch, for some strange reason. "I have this really good Nars foundation." I offered. "Covers just about anything. It would work really well to hide the bruises. I can bring some-"

"It's not that serious." Wolfe rolled his eyes. "Please, Florence, it's not that big of a deal. I appreciate the concern but I don't need any Spongebob stickers on me. I've been hurt worse than this."

"Look at your hands."

"Florence-"

"Look at them." I winced at his knuckles. They looked so painful. The recent scratches on his palms from when I accidentally made him fall was bleeding a bit, too. "You look like you smashed those little red cochineal bugs with your bare hands. Your hands look like they went to Sephora and destroyed the rack that has all the red lipsticks. Your face is stupid. Your hands are so red, apples would be jealous."

Wolfe shut up after that. Sulking, he got up and washed his hands in a little sink that was near the back of the room. While he was doing that, I made a couple bandages to the best of my ability. (Not really, I just stuck wads of soft cotton material to some tape and added smiley faces to the back of them with a Sharpie I found in the kit.) 

Wolfe came back, gently patting his hands dry with a bunch of brown paper towels. Without all the excess blood around, his bruises were a lot more prominent. They were fresh cuts, starting to immediately bleed again even after he wiped them off. Wolfe was expressionless as ever, as if his hands weren't almost mutilated. He made it seem like nothing could hurt him. And then there was me, the girl who could get a paper cut and act like she's on her deathbed.

"So what really happened?" I asked again as he sat down on the bench beside me. Taking one of his hands gently into my own, I pressed an alcohol wipe on his knuckles. It made me cringe just to do it and I wasn't even the one who was hurt, but Wolfe didn't even flinch. Not once. "Did you get into a fight? Or was it one of those illegal wrestling matches? Did someone try to take your Twizzlers? Because, oh man, I'd be looking worse for wear if that happened."

Wolfe's face finally contorted into a grimace, but I don't think it was from the stinging sensation of the alcohol reacting to his scars. Rather, I think it was from my question. He seemed vaguely annoyed ever since we met in the alley and it wasn't really helping my self-esteem. Not that being around Wolfe Sterling ever did. His lips tugged into a frown. "Why do you care so much about it, Florence? I don't need your help, nor did I ask for it. Why can't you just leave things alone?"

I stopped for a second, trying to swallow the hurt that came with his vicious tone. Wolfe's artificial emotions were giving me a headache. Trying to brush it off, I shrugged. "You're the one who dragged me in here, Wolfe. And I don't care." Lies, I totally did. "I'm just curious, that's all. It's not just me at fault for meddling. You do the same, intrude where you're not wanted-"