Prompted by: Lesley Hardenburgh
I blinked. Twice. “What?”
“I said that I can.”
I blinked a third time. Furrowed my brow. Shot her a questioning glance. “Can what?”
She frowned slightly, her jaw setting into a stubborn, inflexible line. “I can handle it.”
I mirrored her frown with one of my own and asked, “Handle what?”
Warm amber met icy blue head-on. Hard. Challenging. Steely with resolution. Then, her honey-filled eyes drifted downward, sweeping over the entire length of my body – deliberately, painfully, torturously – before returning to lock onto mine once more. To bore into mine. Drill into mine. Hammer. Full force.
I swallowed hard. Had I been able to move below my chest, I probably would’ve squirmed under the intensity of her gaze.
“I can handle it,” she repeated firmly, molten irises ablaze with determination.
Feeling my cheeks flush, I looked away and mumbled, “I didn’t say anything.”
“No,” her voice was suddenly gentle as she reached out to brush an errant strand of hair from my forehead, “but you were wondering, right?”
I didn’t reply. I didn’t even nod. I wouldn’t admit it. I just couldn’t.
Hands cupping my face, the softness of her palms greeted the sharp edge of my jawline, tenderly caressing rough stubble. “This. Us. You…”
I shuddered as the hum of her words traveled down my spine into oblivion.
“I can handle it.”
I let my eyelids fall shut. Released a slow, shaky breath.
She had answered my unspoken question…
Can she really handle my disability?
What’s the prompt for next week, guys?
Make suggestions below. 7 words or less.