Game on, Twombly||Stuart Twombly

Chapter Eight

"Stuart, you don't have to stay here. I'll be fine," I tell him, trying to get him to go back to his dorm room back at Google.

He shakes his head from his spot in the plastic arm chair that is placed next to my bed, his feet propped up on the nightstand while his left hand holds my left, his phone in the other. Which he is currently looking at.

"Not gonna happen, Holl. You're only in here for tonight, anyway. It's not that big of a deal," he tells me, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand.

I smile at him. "I'm sorry."

That makes him look up from his phone. "For what?" he asks, shoving his phone in his front pocket.

"I'm sorry I blew up on you. I don't usually do things like that. I don't know why I did."

He scoffs, rolling his eyes before readjusting his position in his chair. He takes his feet off the nightstand, putting them on the ground so he's facing the left side of my bed, holding my hand in both of his while his elbows are propped up on the mattress. 

"You have no reason to apologize, Holland. You had every right to yell at me. I was acting like a complete asshole, and I needed someone to call me out on it. I'm sorry, Holland," Stuart says, making me smile.

I use my free hand to beckon him closer to me. He looks at me confused before he gets up from his seat, leaning toward me. I use my right hand to wrap around the back of his neck, bringing his right cheek toward my lips. I place a big kiss there before letting go of him, letting him sit back down. He smiles at me before leaning back in his chair, a pink tint on his cheeks.

"Well, now to shift gears, here, thanks for coming to my rescue today," I told him, rubbing my thumb on the back of his hand, too.

He smiles at me. "It's not like I was just gonna let you lay there, shifting in and out of consciousness," Stuart says, making me smile.

"Still, thank you, Stuart. I really appreciate it. I'm sure my grandmother does, too. When is she supposed to be here—"

"Oh, my God! My country, are you okay?" I hear Nana's familiar voice yell as she bursts into my hospital room.

I cover my face in embarrassment with my free hand while she comes around the right side of the bed, farthest from the door, wrapping her arms around me carefully.

"When I sent you off to this internship, I didn't expect it to land you in the hospital! What the holy hell happened?" she exclaims.

"Just some douche on the Quidditch pitch, Nana. It's nothing," I tell her calmly.

"Nothing! You have bandages on your face!" She inspects my left cheek, where Graham hit me with his broom.

"Nana, I'm fine. I promise you. I'm going to live," I tell her, taking her hands away from my face, momentarily pulling mine from Stuart's.

Almost as if Nana can read my mind, she looks to her right, seeing Stuart sitting there awkwardly on his chair.

"And who might you be?" she asks him, facing him and crossing her arms over her chest, trying to be intimidating.

I groan, hiding my face in my hands. "Nana..."

"Oh, stop. I think I need to know who the boy is sitting in my granddaughter's hospital room. So, who are you, boy?"

He stands from his seat, extending his arm over my bed to my grandmother. "My name is Stuart. Stuart Twombly," Stuart says nervously.

She looks him up and down a few times before smiling, taking his hand in hers, shaking his. "It's nice to meet you, Stuart. I've heard a lot of...interesting things about you."