14. Vaughan
CHAPTER 14
VAUGHAN
I impressed her. It really was the only damn thing that got me through the soreness of the next two days. Her eyes said death was imminent, but her body posture gave everything away. She’d leaned in, she’d huffed, she’d looked away, then she’d looked down and frowned at my paper like I somehow Hogwarted myself into doing homework that actually passed her supreme and superior standards.
Honestly, I could live off that expression for a solid week. I even went to practice still smiling, peacocking like I was the motherfucking king until I got hit so hard by Brady and shoved into the ground. That was never a good sign.
“Bro!” Brady dropped to his knees on the grass. I could feel my own heartbeat in my throat. “I’m sorry, you good?”
Good?
No.
Coherent. Maybe?
“Sureeshhhh.” I shook my head. “Givmee minutes.”
“Shit!” Coach shouted. “Brady, what the hell?”
I slowly rested my head against the cool grass. Yes, because that helps with a concussion.
Was that what I had?
I could not afford to have a head injury post practice. We had our first game in a week.
I sat up and looked around, but everything was double. It made me want to puke, so I lay back down against the grass and closed my eyes, only to feel someone slapping me on the cheeks. “Wake up, no sleeping, wake up!”
Sleep.
All I wanted was sleep. Sleep would be nice, wouldn’t it? Just closing your eyes.
A slap hit my face. “What the hell!” I was yelling, but I didn’t care.
Voices sounded after I managed to come to. I stood and slowly made my way into the locker room with the help of my teammates. After changing, Brady took me back to the townhouse. I remembered nothing until crashing onto the bed face down.
I had no concept of time other than just knowing I was exhausted until someone's hands moved to my head and flicked my nose. “You missed your next session.”
I groaned. “God?”
“No. Worse. It’s me.”
Why did it’s me sound more terrifying?
“Tru?” I rasped. My head still pounded, and I was still confused as to how much time had passed between my hit from Brady at practice and now. “What day is it?”
“Are you that drunk?”
“No.” I tried to sit up, but my head wasn’t allowing it. I was so dizzy. “I think I’m dying.”
“Because you partied?”
“No.” I held my head in my own hands and turned toward her. “Because I got a concussion.”
She froze. “Who’s checking on you?”
“The guys, why?”
She got up and started yelling profanities. I didn’t really know who she was yelling at, but my head hurt worse and worse. A door slammed, opened, slammed again, more yelling. God, the yelling, why?
“You should have checked on him every few hours!”
“I did! I swear! I got distracted, my girlfriend?—”
Was someone getting hit?
“No, dipshit! Someone could have died because you’re an idiot. God, how do you even survive on air?” She was screaming. It was shrill. Was she defending me? Protecting me? Or just trying to get them to leave so she could put a pillow over my face?
Did I hear any of that right?
“Yes, you’re right, I’m sorry, I’m an idiot, I’ll do better.” Brady’s voice was shaking. What did she do? Grab a machete and hold it too close to his precious tattoo sleeve?
“No!” she yelled. “This is serious, dumbass. Just go stay with your girlfriend. I’ll go to his room, hydrate him, wake him up every few hours… and you call yourself a friend. If you were a toddler, I’d tell you to write an apology letter and post it to the fridge, but I’m not even sure you could actually manage to grab a magnet and put it on the paper at this point, let alone sign your own damn name!”
Huh, her loud voice was nice. I forgot about that. About getting scolded. I kind of loved it. I never got yelled at growing up. Instead, they’d given me trophies for just showing up, but the yelling… yeah, I could roll with that.
Wow, I really was delirious… and those participation trophies had been shit anyway.
I smiled and turned into my pillow. So tired.
“Nope!” Tru smacked me across the back.
“Ouch!” I growled. “That actually hurt!”
“I used my entire hand.” Why did she sound so proud? “You need to open your eyes.”
Shit, my eyes weren’t even open? How? Why? Oh yeah, concussion. I managed to at least open one.
All I saw was her pretty gaze and her smirk. “Can you open two?”
“Two plus two is hard sometimes.” I groaned. “I’m so tired.”
She braced my shoulders. “Listen, you’re probably fine, but I need you to look at me and communicate. Have you puked? Are you good? Just lethargic?”
“Fucking love hot nurses.” I laughed.
“Gonna make you pay for that, dipshit,” she answered. “And if you buy me a nurse outfit to be funny, I’ll murder you.”
I laughed so hard. “I would never.”
“You would.”
“I would.”
“Honesty looks good on you.” She flicked me on the shoulder.
“And nurse outfits would look fucking hot on you…”
She grinned. “Everything looks good on me.”
“I look good on you.” I started laughing, then winced. “It hurts.”
“I’m only helping you because I can’t have your death on my conscience. Just wait here, and I’ll grab my shit so I can lay next to you and set alarms to yet again make sure you’re okay. At this rate, will you graduate?”
“Please.” It was all I had. “Please, just…” I yawned. “I’m so tired; the hit was hard. Didn’t deserve it, was thinking thoughts.”
She paused. “What sort of thoughts?”
“Beaches. A pretty girl who stole my heart. Left my soul to die. And the sunset.”
She said nothing.
“Oh, and… the best kiss of my life, but it was probably a dream, right? I have a concussion. No way that actually happened because if it did, how could you ever possibly let it go? Fuck.” I laid my head on the pillow and felt my eyes well with tears. “It would make no sense. Right? Right? I’m so tired… night.”