It Started With A Concussion ✔️

Chapter 12

"How much did you have?" I asked with a sigh.

He was slow to answer. Just staring out into space. "Five...maybe six shots."

His head fell to the side and rested up against the leather cushion. I checked my phone and realized it was pretty late. I found out while wandering around that the after party fell through.

So it looks like I have nothing to do after this.

I can't believe I have to deal with him for the rest of the night.

"C'mon, let's go." I tell him, standing up and reaching my hands out to him.

He scoots out of the booth and slowly takes my hands. I'm sure he helped me to some extent but, nevertheless, I got him standing.

I held onto his arm and led him outside. The breeze hit my shoulder and made me shiver a little as I adjusted to the temperature change.

Two people sat on the steps and by their blonde hair, I knew exactly who it was.

"Funny seeing you two here." Hannah says as I take a seat next to them.

I give Hannah a small smile before leaning forward to take a look at Finn. He looked just as out of it as Jackson.

What the hell did they drink?

"Did he tell you what Trev gave him?" I asked Hannah.

"No." she shakes her head.

"This prom is so lame!" Finn groans from the other side of her.

"I know Finn, I know." Hannah calmly responds to his loud manner.

I heard Jackson mumble something next to me, but I could pick up what he said. Fishing into my purse I pull out my keys.

"Here," I hand them to her. "Take my car. I'll drive him home."

Hannah carpooled with me here and I know Jackson drove himself. I'm sure he understands that I have to take his car.

"Thank you Em."

"Don't worry about it." I sigh.

With that, both of them stand up and I say goodbye to Hannah. I watch them walk away before feeling a tap on my leg.

I turned to Jackson and saw that he had his keys out. I take them from his hands and face forward again.

We still sit here though, not moving. I don't know why, but with the slight breeze and lukewarm temperature, I found myself not wanting to go just yet.

I swung his keys around my finger and leaned back onto my palms. Taking in a breath I slowly release it back into the air.

"Did you really mean that?" Jackson asks, leaning against the railing.

"Mean what?" I respond, already questioning where this was going.

"That I waste your time by bickering with you." He brings up our conversation from the beginning of the week.

I was partly taken aback but realized he wasn't exactly sober and probably talking a load of nonsense.

I scoff. "All the fucking time."

He turns his head and I can see the expression written across his face. He looks upset.

Why does he look upset?

"Uhm–I don't know." I find myself saying more. "Sometimes it's pointless."

"Okay, but why sometimes? That's a lot more often than you think." he questions me.