Chapter 3

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Design For Life

"A man's library is a sort of harem." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson, The Conduct of Life

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EPOV

Holy crap, my head hurt. Reaching up to touch it, my hand was grabbed and pulled back down to my side.

"You took a nasty header into the concrete. We're taking you to the hospital," came a gentle voice to my right. Turning my head slightly, I noticed a young man in an EMT uniform. I was a bit confused. Then I remembered that I'd slipped on the sidewalk and fallen. I groaned in embarrassment when I realized that I was on a stretcher and that a crowd of people had gathered.

Upon arriving at the hospital, I was greeted by my dad. I let out a sigh, as he walked with me to get my head scanned. Once it was determined that I didn't have any major head trauma, my cut was stitched up, and I was released. Dad called Mrs. Cope and let her know what had happened, then he drove me home. My head hurt so much, that even reading didn't appeal to me. At around four o'clock, Mrs. Cope called me and told me to take tomorrow off as well. I didn't even argue, which was proof of how badly my head ached. I laid down on my couch, turned some classical music on, and was out like a light before I knew it.

I woke up the next morning feeling like I'd been hit by a truck. My head hurt horribly and the ringing of my phone only added to it. Scowling at the offensive item, I grabbed it and silenced the call. I noticed that I had several missed calls, and four texts. All from my sister.

Are you okay?

Dad said you got hurt.

Why haven't you answered your phone?

Call me!

She was so annoying. I shot off a quick text letting her know that I was okay, but that I wasn't up to talking. I downed a few aspirin and curled up on my couch, loosing myself, watching Doctor Who reruns. By early evening, I was feeling a bit better. I had just got up to make some dinner, when I heard a knocking on my door. I really hoped it wasn't Alice. I wasn't sure I could handle her at the moment. Imagine my surprise when I opened it, and found Bella standing there.

"Bella?"

"Hi, Edward. I just wanted to see how you were feeling. I heard about your accident yesterday."

My face went up in flames. Great. Now she knew exactly how much of a klutz I was. I stood back to allow her in, taking a quick glance around to make sure the place was clean. I took her coat and hung it up on the rack beside the door. Taking a good look at her, I saw a tattoo on her neck. It was tribal-like, with a bunch of different colored hibiscus flowers. It was quite pretty. It was then I noticed that she was carrying a container, which she then held out to me.

"Thank you. You didn't have to make me anything," I said, surprised that she'd done so.

"I know. But I figured with your headache and all, you probably wouldn't be up to cooking."

She was amazing. "Thanks again," I said. I took the soup into the kitchen and stuck it in the fridge. I headed back into the living room and watched as she looked around, then sat down on my couch. I liked the way she looked sitting there. She had just pushed up the sleeves of her shirt, and I saw them. Lots and lots of colored tattoos all over her arms.

"Wow. You really are tattooed," I squeaked out. She flashed me a grin. "Doesn't that hurt?" I asked, sitting down next to her.

"A bit. It's more of a pleasure pain. It's hard to explain. Anyway, how are you?"

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