Nine

Asking for sleep that night was like asking for candy after dinner when you're eight years old.

Legend wasn't gonna get any.

Thanks to a greyish-green-eyed roommate and an unfortunately functioning conscience, she felt horrible and whenever she felt horrible, her stomach tied itself up in sailor knots.

She wanted to trust Raph, she really did, but he wielded a lot of power over her and he didn't even know it. Any word, any reaction from him could destroy her.

So, she preferred to keep him at arm's length and not tell him anything about what happened with her and his brother. Last time she checked, Cowardice only hurt a person's dignity and truth be told, she probably didn't have any left.

She tossed and turned and caught a few Zs in between—those were the worst moments of the night; dream her always managed to conjure up Raph—and when she finally decided to get up, she imagined what she must look like.

That old hag from Snow White probably looked better than her.

Enough of that, she told herself. Today, she was to start on her story, so she needed the bad energy to go zoom, zoom, zoom like she'd heard in a catchy Nigerian song she had once listened to.

Legend brushed her teeth, threw on her dressing robe and slouched to the kitchen, praying that maybe some old kind woman who Raph had hired while she was sleeping had already prepared breakfast. While she was praying for things that would never happen in a million years, she might as well ask for a drama-free day.

Nearing the kitchen, she heard singing and stopped short.

Maybe a burglar was in the house.

Maybe she'd sleepwalked into another house and now the house owner was warming up the oven like in Hansel and Gretel.

Maybe Raph had done as she'd thought and hired Nana Homemaker.

She peeked in and all her conclusions flew put the window. It was plain, old Raphael Perdome preparing a protein shake and singing ‘What a wonderful world.'

Legend stood in the hallway like some perv in a porn movie watching Raph's toned butt in those exercise shorts. He had a nice voice. Deep timbre that made her think of warm chocolate and sultry nice. She imagined him singing into her neck, into her skin.

She couldn't help it. She moaned. Not the little, nobody-really-hears-them-moans but the loud ones that screamed ‘OMG, I'm watching you right now and you're so hot and I wouldn't mind if you drank your protein shake off my body.'

The hotstuff in question paused, drink in hand, and peered at the kitchen entrance.

"Legend?" No response. So, because he couldn't just let it go, the fucker moved to investigate.

Shit.

Legend ran as fast as she could, thinking that being caught peeping would be the biggest, creepiest, most embarrassing act done by a person. However, she was reminded why she never, ever ran She had no control over her silly legs. She slipped and fell so hard on her ass she knew it would be 100 shades of black later.

"Hello? Anybody there?"

Fuck shame. She got on her knees and crawled to her room, settling in bed just in time before Raph pulled the door open.

"Legend?"

No response because duh, she was ‘asleep' with a pillow thrown over her face.

Raph stood there for a long time, and she had the urge to take a little peek. She didn't. She waited until she heard the click of the door before she threw the covers off to take care of her bruised ass. Perv-spying was never a good idea.

When it came to Raph, she always forgot that.

Legend limped into the kitchen at nine thirty on the dot. She knew this because she'd been on time's ass; that little Pervy fiasco was not to be repeated. So, she waited until she knew that Raph had left.

With the luck that she had, though, he was probably still lurking around like a villain, cooking up evil schemes—pun so intended—for the complete annihilation of Legend's good senses.

She could just imagine him, fangs out, fist on his chin with a comment box hovering above his head, saying "Will the muscle shirt do? Or will the Henley be better?"

Yeah, that scene possibly happened round here.

After making sure that were no traces of Raph The Dubious, her survey included the pots and the cupboards, she pulled out a pack of frozen peas and held them against her sore ass, groaning softly. She was beginning to suspect that she had sprained her booty or something.

She gingerly sat on the island and winced like a big baby while doing it. Breakfast was out of the question that morning, so she just grabbed a banana and her special ideas notebook.

Today was gonna be a cracking day.

***

The only thing cracking was her hunger. It cracked like a whip so hard against her stomach. Skipping breakfast had seemed like a good idea back then.

Now it was as stupid as suggesting that Jack Sparrow wasn't the sexiest pirate ever—yup, it was that awful.

Her stomach growled again loudly, and Legend took a break to find something to give the angry organ before it ate her from the insides out.

Stepping back into the kitchen, she contemplated her options Cooking was out of the question. Raph could afford a new condo, she was sure of that, but she knew she wouldn't be forgiven if she burnt thus one down.

Ordering in sounded better but for the life of her, she had the strong desire to actually go out, go for a stroll, eat food with people. Raph was definitely influencing her good-sensed defense mechanism of " if you don't step out, you won't be stepped on."

She tried to ignore the voice but Raph—she'd named it after him, yes, so sue her—persisted until she became its helpless slave, throwing on clothes and putting one leg in front of the other until she found herself in the lobby.

"Hey, Matt!" She skipped to the receptionist desk where the old man was reading a magazine.

"Hello, Ms. Freeman. It's always a pleasure to see your pretty face."

She blushed hard. Matt needed to get new glasses if he thought Legend Freeman was pretty.

Scratch that, he needed a new brain.

"Stop it, ya big flirt."

He peered over the top of his lens at her skirt.

"A new one, Miss?"

She twirled, letting the pink material swish around her.

"You like it?"

Matt nodded, a fond grin on his thin lips.

"Indeed, Miss. I dare say you are one of the most fashionable people I've known."

Whoa, someone was heavy with the compliments today! Except that wasn't just a compliment, that was the truth. So sad only few people knew that. They were ahead of their time, him and her.

"Ok, Lady-killer, I'm gonna go get some breakfast. I'll be right back." She gave him a little wave and he waved back. Max was a really sweet grandpa.

She pulled open the revolving door and walked into paparazzi. Lots and lots of Paparazzi.

Cameras and microphones getting shoved in her face, questions that she couldn't even register being yelled at her.

At first, she thought this was some stupid joke Raph had played, better yet, a stupid dream.

OK, time to wake up.

She closed her eyes, then opened them…

They were still there.

Maybe this was inception. Maybe she needed something to wake her up.

Or maybe, Dumbelina, you are very much awake, so get your ass out of here before you get it bruised again.

"Is it true that you're back for Logan?" A woman with more red lipstick then Taylor Swift questioned.

"Why can't you leave him alone?" Another, this one a black dude chimed in, his iPhone recording every. Single. Thing.

It was like Legend kick-started again. She immediately scurried back into the building and made a beeline for Matt.

"Matt!" She cried

His brow wrinkled in concern.

"I know, ma'am. Security is here." She whirled around to see the burly men in black try to stop the reporters from barging into the lobby.

She suddenly felt light-headed, everything in her line of vision was swimming, like she was underwater. Maybe Sebastian would come perform under the sea for her.

"Miss, are you alright?" Matt queried, peering at her. To her twisted mind, he was the famous crab from the little mermaid.

She was not OK. She couldn't breathe and she was seeing silly things. It was like someone with Nicki Minaj's booty was sitting on her chest.

"You need to sit down, you look pale." Matt again voiced his opinion while studying her with worry.

No shit, Matt. Unfortunately, Legend's body translated that to you need to sit down. Now. On the floor. Pronto.

Her legs gave way. She found her face connecting with the cool marble and she would've been embarrassed that she'd almost shit her pants and was now gracelessly sprawled on the floor in front of like, half the population of the town plus Matt.

She didn't have time for such insignificant matters. She was much busier blacking out.

***

Raph never sped. He hated that shit. It was too dangerous; you could end up with your legs broken or worse, dead with an unfinished will and desperate ex-girlfriends who would crawl out of the woodwork with strange children and baby bumps.

But, on that day, Raphael broke his precious rule; it wasn't every day that he heard Legend was hospitalized.

He drove like he was in some real-life version of Need For Speed, almost running over a dog. He would go to church later and pray that the poor animal did not suffer emotional trauma.

He screeched to a stop in front of the Town's Central hospital, not bothering to park well—Another thing he hated doing—and brushing off the security guard who was politely telling him to kindly park his vehicle, sir.

Raphael wanted to park his fist in his face. But first thing was first: Legend.

Matt had told him what room she was in so after the nurses finished pestering him—they were just trying to help—he made a beeline to her room, throwing the door open with more force than he'd intended.

Legend who was supposed to be at death's door, who he'd half expected to see a soul sucker floating over her body, waiting for her soul, who was supposed to be making her dying wishes, asking that her Shakira skirts be burnt because she couldn't bear the thought of anyone else wearing it was sitting up in the bed, talking animatedly to Matt.

Until she noticed him standing at the door like a lid summoned to the Principal's office.

"I told them not to call you!" she was talking to him, but she was glaring at Matt. If it was even possible, the man looked like he wanted to jump from the window.

Legend in a hospital with a gauze on her forehead and a foreboding scowl on her face looked hilarious as hell.

But he didn't get a chance to smile because she turned her cute face to him.

"OMG, are those for me?! They're so pretty!!!" She squealed as she spotted the flowers he'd grabbed as an afterthought while racing down there. Were mood swings symptoms of near death? He'd have to ask the doctor when the schmuck decided to make his appearance.

He stepped into the room and thrust the flowers towards her.

She took a big whiff and sighed in pleasure. Then, she studied him with those icy blues before proclaiming dryly, "You're acting like you're the one who had a stroke."

"She had a stroke?! What the fuck happened?!" He yelled at Matt, his heart going into overdrive. Oh, thank goodness, his voice was back. He was afraid he'd gone dumb forever and wouldn't get to berate Legend ever in his life.

"Easy there, firecracker, I didn't have a stroke, I was playing around. I fainted." She rolled her eyes, like fainting wasn't a big deal. Raph clenched his fists. It would be ironic to strangle her in a hospital.

"What happened?" He asked again, leaning against the wall, watching the woman he'd almost lost, the woman he loved.

The thought slammed into him like a freight train.

Holey cheese crackers, he loved this woman.

He'd loved her when he'd first met her crying her eyes out.

He loved her now, in this hospital that smelled of disinfectant and flowers and hope, he loved her.

Shit.

"And then Bradley Cooper offered me a ride, but I told him to go eat his underwear—"

"Wait, what?"

She shook her head at him. "You didn't hear a word I said, did you?"

Guilty as charged. He'd been busy being shocked and in love.

"There were reporters at the entrance, and she had a panic attack." Max spoke up.

Legend blushed, fiddling with the flimsy gown. "well, that's not really true. I think it was an empty stomach coupled with the fact that they were gonna get my bad side on camera that did it for me."

"That wasn't even remotely funny, Legend. You could've been hurt. How many fucking times do I have to tell you an empty stomach isn't healthy?"

How many fucking times do I have to worry about something happening to you?

Matt quietly slipped out of the room, his body language reading 'I don't want any part of this, so byeeee.'

Legend huffed. "Come sit." She patted the bed, and he did as he was told.

She grabbed his face, forcing him to look her in the eye.

"Thank you for yelling at me and making me feel irresponsible but I'm OK. I feel a little dizzy and concussed, nothing more, nothing less.

"But what if—" the words stuck in his throat. He swallowed, tried again.

"What if something happened to you? What if those paparazzi hurt you?"

Why were they even after her in the first place? Didn't matter. He would speak to the building management about this matter.

"What are they gonna do? Question me till I die? Nothing's gonna happen to me. I'll still be around to be messy and irritate you so fear not."

"For someone who was almost trampled on, you're pretty cheerful."

"Haven't you heard the saying ‘The cheerful live forever?"

"Nope, you just made that up."

She smiled and tweaked his nose. "You betcha, Cupcake."

Raph tried really hard to keep the frown, but the smile won, anyway. She was safe, she was happy. If that wasn't enough reason for him to smile, he didn't know what was.

Just then, the doctor came in—his name tag said Shmuck; color Raph unsurprised—and began to talk to Legend.

Raph's thoughts drifted back to his early discovery. He watched Legend charm the stethoscope off Shmuck and decided not to tell her about his feelings.

If he did, he'd lose her forever.

And that was a bleak thought.