Chapter 9 Rendering Help

Jameson's POV

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was the cool sensation on my forehead. For a moment, I thought it was some weird dream.

But then I realized it wasn't a dream at all-someone was dabbing my forehead with a damp towel.

My body tensed instantly.

I blinked, turning my head slightly, and there she was: Aria. Smiling down at me as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

"Good morning," Her soft voice reached my ears. She was smiling.

It's starting to see like that's her default setting.

I frowned, brushing her hand away as I sat up.

"What are you doing?" My tone was sharper than I intended, but I was too groggy to soften it.

"You were sweating," she replied, as though it were obvious. "I thought I would help." She set the towel aside, brushing her hands together.

"We've got about half the day left before we land in Italy. So, technically, good morning... or whatever time it is now."

I sat up straighter, brushing her off. "I didn't ask for your help," I muttered under my breath.

She didn't respond to that, only shrugged her shoulders.

I muttered something under my breath and shifted away from her. Why did she always feel the need to overdo everything? She didn't owe me this level of care.

Hell, she didn't owe me anything.

"Uhm... are you hungry? I could help rewarm your leftovers. I noticed you didn't eat much earlier." she pointed out.

"I can do that myself. Plus I'm good for now." I said curtly before yawning. I wanted to stretch my stiff bones, but it wasn't convenient.

And this reminded me that I'll be cripple for life. This feeling was about setting in. I tried to force it out of my thoughts, so I wheeled myself toward the bathroom to splash cold water on my face.

Halfway there, I stopped. My jaw tightened as I stared at the narrow door to the bathroom.

Will I be needing help there?

The thought made my blood boil. I clenched the armrests of the wheelchair, my fingers curling tightly around the edges.

Why must I be reminded on my predicament?!

"Damn it!" I growled, slamming my palm against the armrest in frustration.

On this plane, I didn't have my usual wheelchair with the rotating seat that allows easy transfer to the toilet. This one was just a basic model with adjustable height.

"Are you okay?" Aria's voice came from behind me. I gritted my teeth, refusing to look at her.

"I'm fine," I said sharply, though my tone made it obvious I was anything but.

As if understanding the situation, she didn't press further.

I wheeled back to my seat. Then she began arranging her things before she stood up and headed to the bathroom's direction. Taking the small bowl of water and the towel she'd been using with her too.

The door opened and closed behind me, the sound as if mocking me. I exhaled, trying to gather my thoughts.

When she returned, it was longer than I had expected. I glanced over, noticing her damp hair and fresh clothes.

She must've just taken a shower.

"Must be nice," I didn't realize the words had rolled out my mouth.

"What's nice?" she asked, tilting her head with her brows furrowing slightly.

"Nothing." I said quickly, looking away.

"You can tell me anything you know." She said as she walked past me and sank in her seat. Yet, I said nothing.

I don't need to be babysit or taking care of by someone I barely know.

Moments later, she handed me a novel. "Here. This might help pass the time," she said, her tone light, as if she hadn't just seen me snap at thin air minutes ago.

I glanced at the book but didn't bother reaching for it.

"I'm not interested," I said flatly, and her lips twitched, but she didn't argue.

"Alright," she said lightly, setting the book back down as she shrugged. "If you need my help with anything, let me know. I'm here to help." she said nonchalantly as she opened the book in her hand casually.

Something in me snapped at her words. I jerked my head toward her, my glare sharp.

"What do you mean by that?" Her expression faltered after turning to me upon hearing my voice, and she looked taken aback.

"I just meant... you seemed tense and.... Like you needed help with something. That's all." I narrowed my eyes, leaning forward slightly.

"Help with what, exactly?" I wanted her to say it. It's all pity.

She hesitated, her eyes flicking down for a moment before meeting mine again.

"I don't know," she said quietly. "I just thought..."

"Don't." I interrupted. "I don't need your pity or your help. If I need something, I'll handle it myself."

Her lips parted, but she didn't say something immediately. Then, she shook her head and said quietly.

"All right then. If you don't need my help or the book, it's better that way."

And just like that, she pulled her legs up onto her seat, slipped on a pair of ridiculous magnifying glasses, and opened her novel.

She didn't look at me again, completely absorbed in whatever she was reading.

Something doesn't feel right, like she wasn't pestering or asking many questions. I didn't show my curiosity.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. I couldn't wait to get to Italy, not because I wanted to be there, but because I needed to get off this plane.

My parents were insane for thinking this was a good idea, pushing us to celebrate a goddamn honeymoon I didn't want with a wife I barely knew.

I glanced at her.

She seemed so relaxed, sitting there with her book. As if none of this was awkward or forced for her.

I shook my head.

The offer given to her parents must have made comfortable with her. And maybe she wanted more by trying to overdo some things with me.