Sarah's POV
My body was feeling a little numb. Also my eyes were heavy. The scene in front of me was not very clear. Making it difficult for me to know where I was, actually. A painful groan left my mouth as I tried to move my body. My body was aching.
"Don't move," a very familiar voice hit my ears. As I tilted my head to see. The vision was becoming clearer now, it was Clarke. It was not like I didn't want to see him. But I felt a need to hear someone else's voice.
Maybe his voice?
I just looked at him numbly and listened to the information he gave me about my injury. I was not fully awake. Too tired to remember everything. And I felt the heaviness got over me again.
This time the smell of a very familiar cologne teased my sense of smell. I was feeling less weak. When I opened my eyes I recognized it was a hospital room. As I turned my head, I saw him. His head was supported by his hand with closed eyes. His arm was at the side table beside my bed. I tried to lift up my body. That caused some movement, and woke him up.
"What are you doing?" he said as he pushed my shoulder, saying indirectly to keep laying down. I smelled it again. His cologne. Same as I smelled in the car.
The car.
And it hit me. The reason why I was there.
Our argument. Him pushing me out of the car. Leaving me behind. And that monstrous wolf attacking me. Running into the dark and tripping on my feet. And then he appeared out of nowhere. We were inches away from our death. That gunshot. Him carrying me to the car.
"You wake up?" I heard Clarke, as he entered the room.
I lifted my body hastily, even though I was still feeling weak. I sat resting my back against the bed crown.
"You left me," this time my tone was harsh. And my finger was pointed at him. He straightened his posture. His eyes were shameless. That pr*ck.
He didn't even apologise. Or he did?
"You are acting all tough now, you are responsible for all of this," I blamed him.
"Maybe, don't act so audacious next time," he said, rolling his eyes.
"You apologised to me in the car," I said as his soft whisper echoed in my ear. I heard his words of being sorry in the car. His hot breath touched me. And something else happened too. The electrifying jolt I felt at the memory of his touch more specifically his lips made my eyes bulge.
"Did I?" his lips curled to one side, his eyes were so much amused.
"You- did."
"Did I JUST apologise?" he was still teasing me.
"I know, Sarah," Clarke's tone was apologetic.
"We will compensate and - I know this was so dangerous. There are no words that I can use right now to apologise. But I assure you I am going to teach this jerk a lesson. Or you can end the contract, without any loss. You were not paid for this."
Harry and my eyes were mimicking the shock at the curse words he just used about his own boss. Clarke's hand was squeezing his shoulder. They were looking at each other and I knew I was witnessing a cold war right now.
"Are you sure buddy? Who are you talking to?" there he goes again.
"I am damn sure," his tone was declaring.
The nurse came in and broke the awkward silence that prevailed in the room.
"We need to check your vitals ," she said. Her eyes were stuck at him.
In the whole process of taking my blood sample, checking my blood pressure and to check my temperature she was looking at me and him.
"Everything's fine?" I said.
"Yeah you are all perfect," she smiled at me.
"Really?"
"Yes."
"I think the temperature is a little bit lower, you didn't notice," I said, signalling to the thermometer she was caring. Sparing a glance at it, she panicked.
"Oh my God, sorry! Are you feeling okay? Do you feel nauseous or something," the sudden shift of her attitude made me think if she was going to lose her job.
"It's just that my sugar levels are low. I haven't eaten for twelve hours," I told her, my tone was rude.
"Oh I'll get you something to eat."
"At least ask me about my allergies," I was being harsh more than it was needed. And I felt the stare of two men at me. They looked at each other, confused at what was happening.
"Oh," she was ashamed, of course I was being so rough on her.
"Avoid too many citrus fruits and I cannot handle too much salt," I stated monotonously. Not forgetting to roll my eyes at her after that.
"Ok," she said before she rushed out of the room.
"Woah, that was-cold," Clarke said in a funny tone. Which I didn't find anything near to funny.
Sparing a glance at him I realised his clothes were dirty and his eyes were worn out too. He was sitting on a couch now, a little bit far from bed. Head hanging backwards. He looked tired. Wait.
Was he there the whole night?
It was late morning. I mean he could have left me with Clarke, if he wanted. His bruise at the side of his forehead was covered with bandages. Also there was a bandage on his hand too. The horrors I felt last night shivered my body again.
There were things that stuck in my mind.
The hot touch I felt. The feeling that sang lullaby to me and ease my pain, when I was feeling like my bone was going to break.
Did it really happen or was it just a figment of my imagination?
Nurse came in with a forced smile on her face. I saw Harry getting out of the room and Clarke followed. Setting up the tray in front of me she said,
"Do you need anything else?"
"No," I said.
The tray was decorated with fruits and vegetables in a balanced proportion. There was a bowl of chicken soup. A boiled egg. Some bread and a pudding. It was nice and suitable for a patient suffering from fatigue.
I ate my meal peacefully. Trying to push out my lame concerns about him. If he ate something or not.
For God sake, Sarah. He literally left you alone in the dark of the night. I should have been hating him.
As I was busy filling my stomach, I heard muffled voices coming from the other side of the door. It was Harry and Clarke. Maybe they were arguing about something. Both voices grew louder and I heard them clear.
"I apologised to her, Okay? But you should tell her not to mess with me again," he was shouting.
So, he apologised to me.
"I don't know Harry. you cannot leave someone alone, on the basis of such a little argument," Clarke was angry. I had never heard him this angry before.
"I don't know why are you acting so f**ked up for such -," he paused. Maybe it was better if he had stayed quiet but he didn't.
"Such a low life."
Low life. Okay
"Harry, that low life got you trending on the internet. Got you that damn contract about the movie," Clarke was telling him my worth. I understood that too.
Ofcourse, he was trending on the internet because of me. He should have behaved better towards me. I was an important source of publicity for him, not some actual human being who should be treated respectfully.
Clarke was right. Damn right. And it was very stupid of me to stop eating as if my appetite was murdered. Because it was.
They were still talking. But their voices were low. Or you can say suddenly it was very irrelevant for me to hear what they were saying. Like I had already heard what was supposed to be heard by me.
"How do you feel?" Clarke asked as he entered the room. He was behind him. I ignored his presence.
"I am fine," I answered robotically.
"Good," he commented.
"I wanna go home." I announced. Both of them looked shocked at my words.
"Are you sure?" Clarke asked reluctantly.
"Yes,"
"We should talk to the doctor first," Harry suggested.
"I am a doctor. I'll handle it if anything goes wrong." I sounded rude and he noticed it.
"I know you are angry, Sarah. But please let us take care of you, atleast." Clarke stated because he was sure I didn't hear his words he said just a while ago.
"Oh my God, Clarke. I am not angry as long as you are going to compensate as you promised before. That's the only thing you should take care of," I was smiling and I was looking mean I knew. Like I was being too materialistic. But that was the attitude I was supposed to adopt. I was working for money. I should cash everything, right?
"Yeah,-uhh-of course, I will transfer right away." he said, realising it was the right thing to do.
He was staring at me. And I was not going to stare back. That's what I decided before I found myself looking at him. He was questioning me. Arching a brow, like I am his closed one. To whom you can question, why are you behaving so sh**ty. I diverted my gaze, clearly announcing that I didn't get his sign.
The stick I was holding to support myself wasn't doing much to help. Clarke did offer his hand to help me. But I refused. As I walk out of the room. I saw his bodyguards. And I guessed that they were standing there this whole time. As I was taking more steps it was becoming more and more difficult. I saw Clarke talking to one of the staff members of hospital administration.
"No one gets to know that Harry Watsonwas there," Clarke said as he offered him a piece of paper, maybe a cheque tucked between hid fingers.
"We never saw him," the man gave him a cheeky grin as he took it.
I was too immersed in the scene. When I felt, hands around my body. And in no time I was in his arms. In his strong grip.
"You were too slow," he answered my questioning eyes.
"Let me go. I can walk." I said as I struggled to get myself out of his arms. He was walking like I have no no weight. Ignoring my whining, he reached near the car. One of the men opened the car door and he bent himself to put my body in the back seat, carefully. After that he sat in the driver's seat. When I peeked out of the window, I realised it was a highway hospital. We were not in London. Thanks to him.
The journey was silent. Awkward. Sometimes we caught each other's eye while staring at the back mirror. And despised it, instantly. He was a bit confused because of my grumpy attitude. But it wasn't my problem.
Thankfully, we reached London without any argument. He pulled up in front of my apartment building.
"Aren't you afraid? You'll get caught or something." I said while staring at the back mirror.
"Well what can I say? I just fear my own anger," he said with an amused chuckle. And I controlled my urge to hit him in the face.
Rolling my eyes at him, I said in a sassy tone, "Well, no wonder you cannot write love songs."
"Oh you figure it out? Enlighten me with the knowledge, please," he turned to me, showing his face. His forehead was full on display, his hair was pushed back. Complimenting his gleamy skin, his brows were dark in colour. I thought it was the first time I noticed that he probably has the most symmetrical face I have ever seen. Everything was at place you can say he just looked- perfect.
"Hey?? I am talking to you," his voice woke me up and I came to senses. I was staring at him. Did he notice?
"Are you, by any chance, attracted to me?" so he did notice.
Great.