Nate Jennings's eyes went wide. She didn't understand what he was saying, but she could guess his meaning.
"Howard, I'm scared it'll hurt…"
"If you're scared of the pain, then hold my hand." Her miserable expression made his heart soften instantly.
When the attendant brought the first-aid kit, he skillfully took out a bottle of liniment. "Brace yourself. This will only take a second."
"I'm scared it'll hurt. Can I bite your arm?"
Howard stared at Nate Jennings as if she were some kind of freak.
But she just put on an incredibly pitiful, pleading expression.
Howard rolled his eyes at Nate. "If I give you my arm, how am I supposed to treat your wrist?"
"Then can I lean on you?" she asked, looking utterly helpless.
Howard nodded in tacit agreement.
Nate gave a sly smile, leaned forward, and rested her whole body against his shoulder.
She didn't look like someone with a sprained wrist at all. She looked more like a lovesick girl trying to get handsy.
