Across Space and Time

CHAPTER FOUR - THAT'S REALLY NICE, LOLA

"Stop sulking like a child," Harry scolds through his satisfied smirk. He's driving with one hand on the wheel and one on the touchscreen of the car, skipping through songs until he finds one he wants.

"I'm not sulking," I argue while I gingerly touch the hard, rough material of the black cast that now covers my arm from my elbow to the palm of my hand, then wraps around my pinkie and ring finger.

"Said like a true child," Harry asserts as he navigates the heavy Boston traffic. "You can pay me back when you have the money."

God, if you can hear me, can you please strike me down so I don't have to think about the fact that not only did I break my hand when I punched Ashton, but I reached my credit limit so when I tried to pay the urgent care, my card was declined?

Let's also address the fact that now I have to figure out how I'll work as a server and a bartender with a broken hand.

It was humiliating enough when Harry insisted on coming with me into the small, curtained-off area in the emergency room. He didn't say a word, just watched his soccer game on his phone and took a few calls, despite the sign telling people to take phone calls outside.

Was it kind of sweet when he offered to hold my hand when they set the bones? I don't know because I shut him down as quickly as possible, asking the doctor if they could get security to remove Harry from the room, causing Harry to snort a laugh and the doctor to look between us in confusion until I mumbled that I was kidding.

The entire event was capped off when the person at the front desk told me that my credit card was declined when I was trying to pay my bill. Without a word, Harry laid his credit card on the counter as he watched the last minutes of the soccer game on his phone. He didn't even bat an eyelash when he signed his name to pay my $900 medical bill.

"I'll pay you back," I mumble. The only good thing, and I truly mean the only good thing about any of this is the bottle containing ten Vicodin pills in my bag that the doctor prescribed for my pain.

Our ride back to Bill's house was quiet. I mostly stared out the window while Harry drummed his thumbs against the steering wheel along to the beat of some old song I didn't know the name of.

Still looking out the window, I finally broke the silence.

"Thank you. For going with me. And for covering the cost," I choke out. Cocky asshole or not, it was a kind gesture on his part. "I'll pay you back as soon as I get my next paycheck."

Harry nods his head and I can tell he's looking at me from the corner of his eye.

"You never mentioned how you broke your hand," Harry remarks as he exits the freeway on the way back to my mom and Bill's house.

"That's...a story for another day," I say, realizing for the first time that I'm going to have to come up with some explanation to tell my mom. "How did you break your hand?"

Harry flexes his hand into a fist and opens it up again. "Playing football."

"You have football in England?" I ask.

"We have football in England. I believe you lot call it soccer, but everywhere else on the planet calls it by its proper name: football," Harry contends with a snarky tone.

Ok, so we've touched on a nerve...

"Just to clarify: you broke your hand playing soccer?" I ask, though I already know the answer. I also know how to push someone's buttons once they've revealed them to me. And Harry's last rant just revealed his.

"Bill said you were...difficult...I just didn't realize-" Harry begins before I immediately cut him off.

"Whoa whoa whoa, Bill said I was difficult?" I ask incredulously.