Summer with The Bad Boy

Chapter 17

Author's Note: Dedicated to OmfgItsBecky :)

Chapter 17

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When I woke up, I expected to see Addie on the otherside of the room. Then I was disappointed to find that she was gone, and I only saw an empty, and made bed. I sigh, getting out. It was early, but I was going early to help Josh.

I have a quick shower and get dressed. I make the bed and leave the cabin to go up and see Josh. The most I have to do is help him get dressed. This will be the first day I help him. All I have to do is help him put his shirt on and whatever jacket or jumper he wants. I'm glad I'm not helping him with his pants. That would be awkward. He didn't ask me to and I didn't offer. He was somehow going to do that himself. I sort of felt bad though. He has a neck and jaw support! How hard would it be to put pants on!

I'm nearing the front office. I know most of the staff would already be awake. They get up extra early. I push on the glass door and open it slowly, hoping not to be to loud in the early morning.

Down the hall to the spare room, which is the sick bay, is where Josh Walker is. I knock on the door gently. I hear his crackled voice. I opened the door and slide in the small gap. He already has a pair of jeans on. He's also got a singlet on from what he slept in last night.

"You managed to put your jeans on?" I ask, closing the door behind me.

He chuckles.

"No, the nurse helped me," he smiles.

I give him a quick glance, smiling. I walk over to where he's sitting on the side of his bed.

"How's your jaw today?" I ask, sitting next to him.

He attempts a shrug, but it's a bit hard with the brace.

"I can't really feel anything,' he frowns. 'But I'm hoping it's healing."

I smile and change the subject. Now its the time, to dress him.

"So,' I start, re-positioning myself, 'what shirt do you want to wear today?"

He doesn't need to think about it.

"The checkered one,' he says, 'with the white t-shirt underneath."

I stand up and go over to a box that is, at the moment, his wardrobe. There isn't many clothes.

"Where are all your clothes?' I ask. 'Don't you have more?"

"Their in my cabin, 'I just grabbed a couple of my favourites. I have a pretty good about of clothes, I've been year for decades anyway."

I nod, chuckling at his last remark, and rummage through the carboard box. I pull out the wrinkled and crushed shirt. It's a flannelette checkered shirt that is rolled up and sewn at the elbows. I search through for the white shirt too. Finally I have both of the 'crinkled' shirts and walk back over to him. I observe them.

"Do you ever wash these?" I ask, wrinkling my nose at the smell.

He pulls a face of confusion, as if has never heard of the word 'wash' before.

"I don't think so," he says, innocently.

I do one of those sniff laughs. And I prepare for the moment. Why did I care so much though? I only saw him as a friend, and this was a favour.

"Alright,' I start slowly. 'Put your arms up slighly, so I can pull your singlet off. Don't put your arms up too much, in case you hurt your jaw," I say.

He does as I say. He puts him arm up sligtly, and slowly. I reach down for the hem of his singlet and start pulling it up. His perfect coloured body is being revealed. Then his stomach muscles. Next his chest and finally his shoulders and the bottom part of his neck, where the brace stops.