Текст книги "Incinerate"

Автор книги: Tessa Teevan

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

Chapter 2

Charlie

“OH, COME on, Charlie, go out with us Friday night. You haven’t gone dancing since you and Drew broke up. It’s about time for you to get off your ass and have some fun again,” my best friend Lucy whines into my ear.

I shake my head, even though she obviously can’t see me through the phone. She’s right, but I’m finally just starting to get over my jackass professor ex-fiancé. The one I lived with for the past two years since I’d moved from Knoxville to Clarksville with him so he could take a teaching position at Austin Peay State University. The one who proposed last Christmas, even having asked my dad for my hand in marriage. The same one I walked in on two months ago screwing one of the janitorial staff workers on his desk. Yes, you heard me. Not the cliché teaching assistant, not the hot colleague, not the sexy, seductive student looking to get an easy A by being an easy lay. He was fucking the woman who cleaned his office.

Don’t get me wrong. I respect the profession, and I love the ladies who clean my office, conveniently across campus from his, but it’s not exactly a sexy position, because around here they’re definitely not wearing French maid costumes.

The worst part was that when I opened the door, he looked up and our eyes locked, his widening at my presence. Instead of pulling out to chase after me and grovel at my feet, begging for forgiveness, he pumped a good two more times before he got off, grunting in the process.

Lucy’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, and while part of me wants to get out, the winning side of me is satisfied with staying home and drowning my sorrows. “Sorry, Luce, but I can’t. I have a new volunteer assignment starting on Saturday and I have to be there bright and early.”

She sighs, annoyed that yet again I’m using my volunteer work as an excuse to be a recluse. As the Veterans’ Affairs liaison at Austin Peay, I’ve met many soldiers from Ft. Campbell and the several National Guard bases located around the state. About a year ago, a young airman brought a flyer to the office with him when he was filling out his paperwork. It was for a local veterans group that was taking volunteers to help out wounded service members. Being an Army brat to a single father, I’ve had random people helping me out in various ways all of my life. I decided that I’d use this as a way to give back and help those who need it, just like so many did for Dad and me. I called the number on the sheet of paper, and since then, I’ve been able to meet and assist some amazing people who just needed a helping hand. Drew always hated it, not so secretly jealous of my spending one-on-one alone time with other men, but I always told him he was being ridiculous. There were women, too, and it’s not like every single soldier is a beefcake.

“Charlie, you always have another assignment. Throwing yourself into helping solve other people’s problems isn’t going to fix your own.” I know she’s right, but it’s been almost a month since I’ve been assigned a soldier, and I’ve been itching to get my mind off things by doing exactly what she said—ignoring my problems by dealing with someone else’s.

“It’s been weeks since I volunteered. And this guy sounds like he needs me. From what Cheryl told me, he almost died when a roadside bomb detonated. This one is going to take more time, which is why she asked me. Something about needing the right personality. He has broken bones in his spine and his arm, so he can’t drive and probably can’t do too much else. I’m supposed to be his ‘companion’ of sorts while his brother finishes his finals at UT,” I say, relaying the information the organization coordinator had given me.

She snickers. “His companion? Hmm, maybe you’ll luck out and he’ll look just like Channing Tatum in G.I. Joe. God, I love a man in uniform. Maybe I need to start volunteering, too.”

Laughing, I shake my head. “I don’t do it to meet men, Lucy. And I have no interest in having a rebound right now.”

“Oh, come on. A roll in the hay with a hot soldier is just what you need to get over Drew and his use of the university’s custodial services.”

I roll my eyes and change the subject as my next appointment arrives. Not wanting to listen to Lucy continue to beg me to join her on Friday, I decide to end the phone call quickly. I give her a maybe, deciding that maybe I will get out finally. The more I stay shut in, the more Drew wins, so perhaps getting all dressed up and going out for drinks and dancing is just what I need.

I PULL up in my dad’s driveway several hours later, ready to get our Wednesday night dinner ritual over with. I’m in no mood to talk, and Dad’s always a chatterbox. He’s the only parent I’ve ever known, and he’s fulfilled both roles tenfold, but sometimes he can get a little overbearing. I understand it, because I feel the same way towards him. After my mom died in childbirth, it’s just been Dad and me. He rarely dated as he devoted all his time to me, trying his hardest not to make me a tomboy but a well-rounded kid.

He told me stories about how my mom had wanted to name me Charlotte Rose and he’d fought her every step of the way. He liked Charlotte, but he was opposed to flowery names. When the doctors came out and told him that she’d passed away due to immense blood loss, he couldn’t help but give me that name. However, from the moment I could talk, my daddy called me Charlie. Never Charlotte, never Rose. And definitely never Charlie Rose. The last thing I want is to be compared to an old guy on Sixty Minutes. Nope, I’m just plain old Charlie. And to be honest, I’ve always been okay with it. I was and always have been my daddy’s girl. Being a single parent in the Army, he had a hell of a time raising me, but he made it work. I was always loved, cherished, and protected. I’ll always love my dad for that.

Putting the car in park, I exit the vehicle and take a deep breath, knowing Dad’s going to want to talk about Drew. I think he’s equal parts pissed and disappointed that we were both fooled by his gentlemanly façade. He doesn’t know the full story, just that Drew did something to push me away. I scrounge up the courage to finally make my way to the door, and it swings wide before I can even knock. I’m instantly drawn up into strong arms as I throw my own around Dad, loving his warm embrace.

He draws back from me and brushes the lone bang out of my face. “Oh, Charlie, it’s been too long since you’ve visited your old man.”

I smile up at him, shaking my head at his ridiculousness. It’s only been a week since we had our last weekday meal and he knows it, but he still loves me enough to give me shit. We break our embrace and move towards the dining room, where he’s prepared an incredible spread.

If there’s one thing Wade Davenport learned as a single dad, it was how to cook. My mouth waters as the Carolina barbeque smell fills my nostrils. We both make ourselves pulled pork sandwiches, me passing on the coleslaw, all the while Dad chuckling at my constant refusal to put the stuff on my pork.

“Charlie… Drew called me the other night. He’s concerned about you and wanted to know how to reach you,” Dad tells me nonchalantly.

I gape at him, wondering if he’s gone crazy. “Umm, Dad, I have no desire to see Drew, hear from Drew, or to even speak his name.”

Sighing, he sets his fork down and looks at me. “You know, if you’d just tell me what happened, maybe I’d understand why you refuse to speak to him. Last I knew, everything was fine and you were planning a wedding. Then all of the sudden you’re calling, asking to borrow my truck so you could move out. Dammit, Charlie, what the hell did he do?”

My dad’s always been a very actively overprotective father, so when I caught Drew in his…compromising position, I had no desire to tell Dad about it. I knew at the time he’d fly off the handle, and all I wanted was to be moved out before Drew got back to the apartment. Fortunately, I’ve been able to stay with Lucy until I can come up with enough money for my own place. I’ve been living with her for two months now, and it’s taken some getting used to on both our parts. I know her lease is up soon, right before she goes home to work for her parents for the summer, so I’m going to have to figure something else out in the near future.

Knowing that I might as well finally tell him what happened, I take a drink of the beer he placed in front of me before answering him. “I caught him screwing the maid,” I blurt out, wincing at my bluntness.

The fork he picked up drops again and the sound clangs throughout the silent room. His hands brace the table as he scoots his chair back, his strong forearms flexing against the hard oak. He meets my gaze and his jaw clenches, twitching slightly in what I’m guessing is anger.

“You caught him doing what?” he asks gruffly, as if he didn’t hear me correctly the first time.

Toying with the beer bottle, I drop my eyes to the table before looking up to catch him watching me intently. “You heard me the first time. I walked in on him screwing another woman.”

“That son of a bitch. I’m going to kill him,” Dad seethes, rising out of his chair. I roll my eyes, having heard the same speech more times than I can count, starting when I was six and the brat next door ripped the heads off of my G.I. Joes.

His braces himself against the table with his fists, his eyebrow furrowing. “Wait… You don’t have a maid. I know you don’t because he was always complaining about how messy you are.”

Clarifying, I relay, with little detail, finding Drew with the woman from the custodial staff. I watch as his face turns red—again, not something new when it comes to the disasters of my love life.

I love my dad. We’re extremely close. But I think he’s been ready to marry me off since I graduated college. It’s his fatherly duty or something like that. Personally, I think he’s using my love life to keep from moving on with his. He’s dated on and off, but he claims he’s never been able to find anyone he loves as much as my mom.

For a long time, he wouldn’t talk much about her until one evening I found him in his office, clutching a glass of scotch in one hand and a photo of her in the other. He wasn’t crying, but I remember being confused by the pained expression in his eyes. I was only five, so the memories are hazy, but I recall watching him from the doorway before seeing one lone tear fall onto the photograph. I’d never seen him that emotional before, so I entered the room and crawled into his lap. Wiping his cheek with my small thumb, I plucked the picture out of his grasp and set it face down on the desk.

“Don’t look at things that make you sad, Daddy,” I told him as I wrapped my arms around his neck. At the time, I had no idea what I was saying, but it seemed to help. He held me close for a few moments while we sat in silence.

Eventually, he pulled me away from him and settled me in on his lap. He picked up the picture and started to speak. “Let me tell you a story,” he said, and I listened intently for the next hour as he told me how they met, how he got her to agree to a first date, and how it was almost love at first sight. Halfway through the story, he carried me into his room, where he pulled out a photo album, one he’d shown me before but never with commentary. After that day, it was like he’d done a one-eighty turn. He started talking more about her, telling me that, although I looked just like him, my personality came from her and that I had her spirit, her heart.

That comment stuck with me for my entire life as I tried my hardest to live up to the woman I never got to know, wanting to make both her and my dad proud, and I think I’ve done a pretty damn good job at it.

“Charlotte Rose Davenport, are you listening to me?” his stern voice asks, breaking through my memories. I glance up at him, giving him a smile as I shrug.

“What’s done is done, Dad. I can handle a lot, but I won’t tolerate cheating. If he can’t keep it in his pants now, how will I ever be able to trust that he’ll be faithful in a marriage? It’s been two months. I’ve processed it. I’m fine, I promise,” I tell him with fake bravado as if I haven’t spent the last two months crying myself to sleep.

I don’t even know if it’s that I’m devastated from the loss of Drew or from the shock of it all. Going from living with someone and planning the rest of your lives together to being single and living temporarily with Lucy with nothing but your movie collection to keep you company wreaks havoc on a girl’s emotional state. But for everyone else, I’m fine. I put on the mask of tough Charlie, the hard exterior portraying that all is well with the state of my heart.

No longer hungry, I get up and take my plate to the counter. Dad comes up behind me, turning me around and pulling me in for a hug. “I’m sorry, Charlie.” I can’t help the giggle that escapes from the phrase he’s loved saying to me over and over through the years. “I always thought those academic types were supposed to be known for their intelligence, but he’s clearly dumber than dirt if he’d step out on you.”

Smiling, I give him a kiss on his cheek before pulling away so I can finish cleaning up the kitchen. “Definitely not the brightest idea he’s ever had. Maybe he’ll learn his lesson for future relationships, because he’s not getting a second chance from me.”

He laughs, knowing that I’ve always been a one-strike type of girl. I have an extremely low tolerance for bullshit, and I don’t like to waste my time. Maybe I just haven’t met the right person who’s worth forgiving, and until recently, I thought that person was Drew. I know deep down there are certain things I can get over if I’m really in love, but infidelity isn’t one of them. I’ll admit that late at night, when I’m alone, I miss him. I miss his closeness; I miss our intellectual discussions on today’s writing compared to classical literature. I loved egging him on by comparing new romance novels to his favorites. He almost had a coronary when I admitted that I hadn’t been able to finish Wuthering Heights. And Jane Eyre? Don’t even get me started.

It’s not completely my fault, and it’s not that I don’t appreciate the love many have for the classics, but I grew up reading Harlequin romance, so I’ll take a sexy Italian billionaire or a rich cowboy over Dorian Gray any day. In that way we were incompatible, but it ended up becoming a running joke between us. I’d pretend to be interested as he discussed his upcoming lectures with me, and he feigned interest when I detailed super steamy scenes to him, hoping to give him inspiration.

I shake my head, trying to wipe the thoughts away. Changing the subject, I inform Dad of my new assignment with the veteran’s volunteer program. As an Army doctor, he understands the importance of helping wounded soldiers, and he’s always been proud of me for the work I do.

“I wonder if it’s anyone I know,” he comments, having seen many wounded soldiers on his operating table since he’s been stationed at Ft. Campbell.

“It’s possible. They didn’t give me his name yet, but I know he had pretty extensive injuries, though I’m not sure what all they entail. He can’t drive, so that’s one of the things I have to do for him. Take him to appointments, things like that. I’m just glad I finally have another assignment. I’ve been going crazy with all my extra free time. Lucy thinks he’ll be a good distraction, but I have no interest in dating, especially not a soldier.”

I have nothing against military guys. I swoon right along with Lucy when we’re out and can pick out the Army hotties just from their tattoos and haircuts. The hard, rugged bodies are definitely a turn-on after spending the last three years with Drew’s lean frame, but past experiences have left me avoiding all relationships with a military man. Things usually always go really well until they meet Dad. It’s not like he sits there cleaning his M4 rifle when they pull up in the drive. It’s just that they go all rigid and “Yes, sir,” “No, sir” to the point of annoyance. The thing is, Dad’s not that kind of Army dad. He respects his position but has never used it to intimidate any of my dates, so when a guy’s personality goes cold upon meeting him, I instantly lose attraction.

“Honey, there’s nothing wrong with dating a soldier. You just need to find one who doesn’t pee his pants when he finds out that the dear old dad you’re bringing him home to is also an Army officer. You find that guy and I’ll show you a guy who can handle you, quirks and all.”

Playfully I slap with him the dishrag in my hand. “I do not have quirks and I don’t need someone special to be able to handle me. I resent that!”

For some reason this makes him laugh at me. “Charlie Davenport, you’ve been stubborn since the day you were born and it’s only increased tenfold since you’ve grown up. I have to say, it doesn’t surprise me that Drew fucked up. I was a little taken aback when you introduced him to me. I never thought he’d be able to hold his own with you.”

“Gee, thanks. Now you tell me. You could’ve saved me a lot of wasted time if you’d enlightened me years ago,” I say sarcastically, knowing he’s right about my stubbornness.

Shaking his head, he disagrees. “And risk the wrath of you telling me to butt out and mind my own business? No, thank you. You probably would’ve been on a plane to Vegas ready to elope if I’d tried to talk you out of that relationship.”

Sighing, I know he’s right, yet again. It’s weird, but he really does know me better than anyone else. However, I still wouldn’t take his advice when it comes to my dating life. He stopped meddling years ago after I threatened to set up a dating profile for him online. Sometimes I still wish he’d go for it. I want to see him happy, but I don’t push the issue as long as he repays the favor.

We talk a little bit more about my volunteering and he tells me stories from the operating room. There’s no more talk about Drew, cheating, or the possibility of a rebound, and for that I’m thankful. Ever since Lucy brought it up, I’ve had a nagging feeling in the back of my mind, wondering what this new guy will look like. I hate the thought and try to push it away, but I can’t stop thinking that a convenient, casual hook-up with a hot soldier may just be what I need.

Chapter 3

Knox

“YOU DID what?” I ask Cohen angrily with clenched teeth, hoping I didn’t hear him correctly when he told me that some dude has volunteered to help cart my broken ass around town for the next few weeks.

Cohen holds his hands up in surrender, knowing that I’m going to be pissed at having to accept a handout. “Look, Knox, I can’t take any more time off from school. Finals at UT are in a couple of weeks and I have to get back to studying. If I don’t pass my Analytical Chemistry class, I can’t get into the Advanced Inorganic Chem class I need to take so I can graduate next year. If I don’t graduate, I can’t get into med school, and I really don’t want to put it off for another year.”

I use my good hand to bring the recliner into a sitting position, wincing as a sharp pain shoots up my spine. “It’s fine, Cohen. I know you have to get back to school, but I don’t need another babysitter.” His eyes narrow as he takes in my appearance, the back brace and arm cast indicating otherwise. “Seriously. I can see if Jace can help me out until you’re done with school, and then you can take back over since you’re planning on spending the summer here.”

“Yeah, well, that was the plan, but Jace hasn’t been cleared to drive yet, and Lexi’s only here every other weekend. There’s no other way around it, bro. Look, I’m sure it’ll be fine. The woman from the center said to expect Charlie tomorrow around ten a.m. I know you don’t have an appointment, but they want to do an initial meet and greet so you can figure out how this is going to go.”

A rush of unnatural anger flows through me and my brother can barely duck before the glass I was drinking from flies past his head, smashing against the wall into tiny pieces the same way the bones in my arm did in Afghanistan. The thought pisses me off even more, and it takes everything in me not to throw something else.

“God dammit! I’m fucking tired of feeling like an invalid. And now some weird dude is going to be taking care of me? What the fuck, man?” I growl at him, even though I know he’s doing the best he can. I just can’t help letting the restlessness get to me. I know I’ve been a huge asshole ever since I was released from the hospital. Hell, even Jace has had to tell me to chill the fuck out, and he usually just lets me go on my tirades. I don’t know if it’s a combination of being stuck here, the shock of seeing Megan again, and the imbalance I’m feeling from the pain meds, but the only emotion I feel anymore is anger, and I’m taking it out on anyone around me. It doesn’t help that I feel exhausted every damn minute of the day, and I feel weak, a feeling that doesn’t sit well with me no matter what state I’m in. Weakness is something I haven’t allowed myself to feel since I left Belle Meade, so the memories it brings about do nothing but inflame my anger.

“I sure as hell hope you’re nicer to whoever ends up showing up, a weird dude or not. Knox, I know it sucks being laid up in here with nothing but your thoughts, but you need to rein in the dick a little bit. I’m your brother and I love your ass, but don’t go pissing off a stranger who’s just trying to help,” Cohen says, sounding more like the older brother in this case. Before I can respond, he starts to grin. “Or maybe you just really need to get laid. That’d definitely relieve some tension and put you in a better mood.”

“Oh yeah, help me out to the car and we’ll see how many chicks in the bar are willing to go home with a guy in a back brace and arm cast. I might get a sympathetic handy, but I’m sure I won’t be going home with anyone,” I scoff, knowing that a casual hookup isn’t going to happen anytime soon. The thought is painful because I know firsthand how much it starts to fucking hurt when you go too long without getting off.

Cohen leaves the room and comes back a moment later with a small broom and dustpan. He begins cleaning up the broken glass, and I feel even more like an asshole now that he has to clean up after me. Pausing, he looks up at me with a wide smile, and I’m suddenly nervous as to what he’s thinking.

“Why the hell are you grinnin’ like the Chesire, Coh?” I ask, wondering what’s gotten into him.

“That’s actually a perfect idea. You need to get out of the house, and I’m bound to score points with the ladies if I’m carting my injured brother around. Let’s go out tonight,” he suggests, but then he wrinkles his nose when he takes in my appearance.

I haven’t looked in the mirror, but I can only imagine what I look like. It’s been weeks since I shaved, and I’ve been restricted to sponge bathing until my appointment next week—unless I have help in the shower. And as much as I love my brother, that’s a no-go. The doc said I’d have the brace off in four to six weeks, and it’s already been three since I was taken out of the coma, so I’m crossing my fingers that I can stop using it very soon.

“Yeah, I don’t think so. I’d probably do more damage once the girls take one look at me. I’m not exactly the epitome of attractiveness right now.”

Without answering me, he walks over to the coffee table beside my recliner and picks up my phone. He goes through the numbers before clicking one and bringing it to his ear. I groan when someone picks up on the other end and he begins to speak.

“Hey, McAllister. I’m heading back to UT tomorrow and I’ve gotta get cranky-ass over here out of the house before he turns all Hulkinator on me and starts smashing things. Want to catch the game with us at The Lodge tonight?” he asks, mentioning one of the best local sports bars in the area. It’s twenty-one and up, so you don’t ever have to worry about offending some little kid and his mom when you’re swearing as an ump makes a bad call.

Cohen talks for a few more minutes, highlighting how much a pain in the ass I’ve been over the past few weeks, even though Jace already knows this. He hangs up the phone and takes one more look at me.

“Okay, dude, the doc said you can shower as long as you’re extremely cautious and have help. I know you took that to mean that you can’t, since refusing help is your forte, but since yours is a walk-in shower and you don’t have to lift your legs, I think you’ll be okay to do it just this once. I’m sure you’re going to get clearance to stop using the brace next week. One night won’t kill you.”

Knowing I’m not going to get Cohen or Jace to let me say no, I allow him to help me out of the chair and into the bathroom, where he turns on the hot water as I go to pop a pain pill just in case I tweak something. Stopping myself right before I swallow, I spit it out, knowing I shouldn’t mix the pills with alcohol, and I want a damn beer.

I feel like such a tool because my little brother has to help me do the easiest of tasks. He helps remove my brace and my t-shirt and covers my cast with a plastic bag, but I start to draw the line at that. Unfortunately, I can’t shake out of my shorts, so I sigh, and he looks at me with an amused expression on his face.

Turning around, I face my back towards him. I can hear him laugh as he walks up behind me and in one swift move pulls my shorts down to my feet.

“Relax, Knox. Just pretend it’s like high school and you just got pantsed in the locker room,” he tells me, reminding me of the juvenile pranks we used to pull.

“Whatever, man. Get the hell out of here so I can do this in peace.”

Leaving me alone, he exits the bathroom, saying he’ll be right down the hall if I need him. Shuffling into the shower, I close the glass door behind me. The warm spray feels amazing on my skin, and without even using soap, I’m already feeling refreshed. Sponge baths not performed by a sexy nurse just don’t cut it.

It’s not the easiest trying to open the shampoo bottle with one hand, so I directly squeeze the liquid onto my head, massaging it into the hair that’s grown too much since the accident. I make a mental note to take my electric razor to it, figuring that buzzing it will be the easiest way to maintain my appearance. Doing the same with the liquid body wash Lexi put in here for me, I spread it over my skin, careful not to bend or twist. I’m momentarily thankful that I have long arms and can clean my dick, but then a wave of depression washes over me when I feel how soft it is. Although I got a little wood from the nurse, the pain pills I’ve been on coupled with the pain I still feel have made it nearly impossible for me to get it up—and I’ve fucking tried. Not even Carrie Underwood could help get me hard enough, and that chick is fucking hot. She has legs for days, and I’m a total legs man. But nope, still soft. It fucking blows.

After rinsing off, I’m not ready to get out, and I spend an unknown amount of time letting the water flow over my body. Then I remember Cohen’s words. You need to get laid.

Sighing, I realize that it’s been over four months since I’ve been with a woman. I know that doesn’t seem like a long time, but in my world, it kind of is. I don’t date, and I haven’t since Megan took a scalpel to my chest and cut my heart out. So I fuck. And that’s it. No cuddling, no pillow talk, no candlelit dinners. The women know it, and I make sure to never let them get mixed up with feelings and shit. The last girl in my bed was more than happy to give a soldier a rousing American farewell, and I’m pretty sure she damn well saw fireworks that night. For me, it was another means of getting off without any emotional attachment.

Don’t get me wrong—it was good. But the more I think about it, the more tired I am of random lays. That doesn’t mean I’m going to start a profile on Match.com with visions of romantic picnics in the park in my future. I don’t fucking know what I want, but it’s not this anymore.

Shaking the thought out of my mind and knowing I’m not going to be able to jack off, I turn the water off and carefully get out of the shower, toweling off my upper half.

For the first time in what seems like weeks, I look at my reflection in the mirror. Grimacing, I study the yellow bruising that mars the right side of my face. Normally hating facial hair, I’m disgusted by the beard that’s grown in the weeks since I left the hospital. Immediately I find my razor and shaving cream, desperate for smooth skin again.

Moments later, I’m relieved as I spread moisturizer over my face. Grabbing my electric razor, I make quick work to buzz my hair, not wanting to deal with it grown out. Eventually, I’m satisfied with the guy looking back at me. Short hair and clean shaven. My eyes are dark, even though I feel like I’ve done nothing but sleep for the past three weeks. Due to the lack of appetite I’ve had from the pain medication, my normally strong jawline seems sunken in. I make a quick vow to wean myself off the pills and to get back into my protein shakes.

Taking one last look in the mirror, I head towards my bedroom, where I’m going to try to get dressed by myself. Standing in front of my dresser, I realize that there’s no way in hell I’m going to be able to get my boxer briefs on without assistance. I’ve been going commando, which I normally hate to do, but it’s just easier wearing nothing but basketball shorts that I can easily slide down when I have to piss. Now that I need to put jeans on, I’d rather not catch my dick in the zipper.

“Cohen, get your ass back here!” I yell down the hall, cupping my junk so he doesn’t get an eyeful. Yeah, he’s my brother, but still.

When he saunters into my bedroom and sees me in my state of undress, he begins laughing at me. Scowling, I gesture to my boxers as I sit down on the bed, careful not to move my back.

“Dude, I know this is weird, but can you please just put them on my feet and slide them up enough so I can stand and pull them up the rest of the way without hurting my back?” I ask, still covering myself.