the bet → brad simpson | ✓

30

After calling Tristan, he came and picked us up, telling Connor to take Brad's car.

"Here, let me help you," Tristan says, putting Brad's arm over his shoulder as we walk slowly to the car. Brad had a few cuts on his face, bleeding and bruising and it hurt to see him like this.

Tristan lifts him into the front seat of his car and puts on his seat belt, earning an eye roll from Brad.

"I haven't lost the capability of moving and fastening my seat belt, you know," Brad says. "I'll be fine by the morning."

"You're not fine now, though," Tristan replies, closing the door. I climb into the back, middle seat and buckle my belt. "Are we taking him back to his house?"

"Are his parents in?" I ask, knowing Anne and Derek would kill Brad for getting into another fight.

"No, they're out," Brad replies, turning back to me with a small smile. "Why are you guys treating me like I'm paralysed. I'll be fine."

"I might not have known you as long as Tristan has, but I know you're not usually the one to lose a fight," I roll my eyes.

"I'm not dying," Brad sasses but I give him a glare and he turns back with a small smile, his head resting against the headrest as Tristan drove him to his house.

When we get to Brad's accommodation, me and Tristan help him out but Brad insists on walking himself, and we don't argue. As Brad takes a couple of steps, he grabs my hand and interlocks our fingers and I take the gesture as something to help with his balance than a romantic gesture.

"And we're home," Tristan huffs, swinging open the door and let's us in. "I'll tell Connor to just leave your car out front."

"That's if he doesn't crash it," Brad mutters and I give him a confused glance, my nose scrunching. "Connor isn't the most confident of drivers. It's like he learnt how to drive in a day."

"It wouldn't surprise me," Tristan comments and I laugh. "But yeah, I'm gonna go now. Are you both gonna be okay?"

"I would if Tasmin stopped treating me like I'm gonna break," he elbows my side and I scrunch up my nose again in response. "I'm a tough cookie, he barely touched me."

"Except that time he punched you. Three times."

"Let's pretend that didn't happen."

➳

My eyes look into his brown ones, and I shake my head. I didn't want to lose the bet, not with so many fears inside of my head. What if he doesn't like me back, and this love is all one-sided? What if he never talks to me afterwards?

"What are you thinking about?" His hand reaches up to my face but I take a step back. Hurt flashes across his face, and it wasn't from his already-bruising face.

"I'm thinking about us," I tell him, biting my lip. Me and Brad being a thing is a ridiculous concept: we're too different. "And about how you should probably treat your face."

He sighs, knowing he won't get anything out of me now, and instead he follows me through to his kitchen, watching me pull out the first aid box so I could treat him. As I try and clean his face, standing on my tiptoes, his hands grip my waist and he lifts me up onto the kitchen counter so it's easier for me to reach him.