23. Jeremy

Not that Jeremy had ever anticipated injuring himself mountain biking, but common sense told him that he should be focusing on the injuries and the fact that the initial adrenaline was wearing off, causing a stinging pain to radiate from his knee and wrists. Not a good sign, and having an MFA was nothing close to being an MD. However, all he could focus on was the fact that this was the first time he and Davis had touched skin-to-skin.

Davis, who had apparently assuaged his fear that Jeremy was critically injured and was digging through a small blue zipped bag that he had retrieved from a larger backpack. Jeremy hoped that Davis had more in that bag than the first aid kit Foster had made him invest in during COVID, which seemed to just hold a variety of different sizes of bandages and some small packets of triple antibiotic ointment.

Trying to make light of the fact that he had not been prepared to see genuine fear on Davis’s face, not to mention the fact that his knee and wrist really did burn something fierce, Jeremy tried to make a joke about it. “I bet you do this to all the exhibit contractors. Just bring us out here to the forest to injure us.”

Davis’s eyes shot up, looking almost pained, and Jeremy regretted the joke immediately. “I would never do anything that would cause anyone pain, least of all you.”

“I—” Jeremy began, then added, more softly, “I’m sorry. I was just making a joke. I am glad that you’re prepared with that kit. I would bet a million dollars you were a top-notch boy scout.”

Davis’s eyes relaxed, and he smiled. “Yeah, well, there wasn’t much else to do in my hometown besides play baseball and become an eagle scout.”

“I bet it’s how you got all the girls,” Jeremy said, wondering if the slight ache when he said that phrase was related to his injuries.

Davis looked away for a moment, then laughed. “I’ll have you know I was not very cool in high school and didn’t date at all.”

“Well, I mean, you should just show off this first aid kit in town, and the women will come flocking,” Jeremy said, waving a hand at the contents of the bag, which seemed to include everything from a flare to a heat blanket. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find a kit for Davis to stitch him up out here in the wilderness.

“Sure,” Davis replied, pulling out a bottle of hand sanitizer. “Okay, so I’m gonna wash my hands and put on gloves, but you should probably get to a doctor at some point, just to make sure nothing gets infected.” Jeremy knew that Davis was thorough and prepared from their work together. Usually, in Jeremy’s experience, the designer was the one who would bring ideas, and the client would shoot them down or agree. Davis always brought ideas to the meetings, from color schemes to label text, often with evidence of multiple drafts. But it was different to see Davis in action, the way he methodically took out all the supplies that he would need and placed them on a plastic cloth he had unfolded. Jeremy saw antiseptic, gauze, bandages, and a wrap of some kind. “Let’s start with your hands,” he said after putting gloves on. Jeremy held out his palms, feeling equal parts like he was a little kid who skinned his knee and a damsel in distress.

He felt safe in Davis’s hands, he realized.

“This will sting,” Davis whispered, taking Jeremy’s right hand in his because of course he knew that it was Jeremy’s dominant hand and he wanted to work on it first. Davis dabbed a wipe on Jeremy’s palm and, oh fuck, he was right; it did hurt. Fuck. “There we go,” Davis whispered as he pulled away, more to Jeremy’s hand than to his face, but Jeremy felt his face heat any way. “Just a few more steps. This should feel better.”A cooling gel was smeared on Jeremy’s skin, then a gauze pressed over. “I’ll just wrap it up,” Davis said, and began to unwind a small roll of what, to Jeremy, felt like a lighter ACE bandage around his palm and wrist, tucking the end in neatly. He then repeated the same process with Jeremy’s left hand, just as careful and just as cautious.

“Do you want me to work on your knee?” Davis asked, holding his hands about a half foot above Jeremy’s knee. And while Jeremy was pretty sure that he would be fine to walk on it, that he was more worried about his hands, he felt like being just a tiny bit indulgent.

He had done mountain biking. Surely that meant he deserved a bit of special treatment. “Yeah, that might be great. Just so it doesn’t get infected. And you can make sure there are no rocks or dirt in the scrape.” Davis gave him an odd look, and Jeremy was worried he had said a little too much.