Ten Things

Ch.12-Get Your Priorities Straight

Cole

It was a day of completely unexpected decisions made on the fly out of pure impulsiveness. On both mine and, I concluded, Grace's part. She came to practice, I was half-way decent to her. She didn't insult me or make me feel like an asshole in an absurdly polite way. I offered her another ride home and she told me she was a football lover. And a serious one, too, if her suggestion held any credit. Which it did. Because it was kind of true.

And then she had invited me in. And I had actually taken her up on her offer. It was a crazy and odd and unorthodox day and I was just going with the flow.

What I hadn't expected to happen?

I hadn't expected Grace to pass out.

And she was out.

Her knees had buckled and I let my mind lead me, hurling forward to catch her before she hit the floor. The first thing I registered was how light she was. I barely felt her in my arms. The second was the reality that her hair was just as soft as I thought it would be falling over my arm.

The third was that she was unconscious in my arms, it looked awfully suspicions, and her dad didn't exactly like me.

"What the hell is going on in here?" the dreaded voice roared. I swung around, Grace's neck lolling back as I faced her father. He stared at his daughter with fear but not surprise. Not confusion. That was interesting to me. He stared at her almost like . . . It had happened before.

"I swear I didn't—she just fainted!" I blurted out, not sure what else to do or say.

"Set her on the couch in here," he instructed gruffly, beckoning me out the door. I followed, placing her gently on the couch. Her father took off her socks and sweaters, leaving her in a camisole and jeans. "I don't want her overheating," he explained offhandedly, shoving the clothes aside.

I nodded, swallowing hard. Grace's pale and flaccid face twisted my stomach and filled it with an uncomfortable and undesirable feeling that baffled me. Her father left into the kitchen and I pulled up a chair beside Grace, knowing it was late but not caring. My parents could go to hell if they got mad. And I wasn't just going to leave while Grace's well-being was questionable. I could be an asshole and a jerk, but I wasn't completely inconsiderate.

"Try to get her to wake up," her father instructed when he came back from the kitchen. He shoved a glass of water in my chest and I took it. "Give this to her when she does. But only small sips. Anything more could make her spit it all back up."

I nodded, throat constricting. When did I get put on nurse duty? "Where are you going?"

"To get her mother," he answered roughly, and without another word ascended the stairs and out of sight.

I faced Grace again, clutching the glass of water tightly. "You gotta wake up," I goaded uncertainly, not sure how one went about waking someone up. Or was she asleep? Was it all the same thing? Hell I didn't know.

"Come on, Grace," I urged, prodding her shoulder. "Wake up."

She didn't stir. Her eyelashes fluttered. What now?

Uncontrollably my fingers pushed her hair out of the way, trailing along her porcelain cheek. Her skin was like silk, smooth beneath my touch. Suddenly another idea came to mind. "We ran shotgun formation today, too," I said. "Except I was taking too long to get into position."

"Drop back more," she whispered, and I grinned successfully. "You should drop back more so you're already in position to look for your receivers. If that's a problem you should get a new center." Her eyes popped open. She looked at me with dazed blue eyes. "Did I pass out?"