..... | NaJ! Paperfresh [ON HIATUS]

[05] Aftermath Of Getting Hit By A Basketball

| Fresh

When I came to, I was definitely not expecting to see a familiar (and attractive...Gah!) face right in front of me.

To be honest, I don't really know what my brain was expecting. (Me: The Dream Beavers?...Ok I don't think anybody actually got the reference...T.T) My parents? The hospital surgeon? Dr. Phil? A fluffy unicorn made out of pink cotton candy and sparkles and rainbow magic?

Right. Dream on, Fresh.

My head was spinning and I felt disoriented, but it was definitely better than lying unconscious, at any rate. Now that my vision was clearing, I was able to see PJ's (obnoxious) dark-boned skull come into sharp focus. What in the name of delicious chocolate fudge was he doing here?

And were my glasses already on my face? I don't usually leave them on when I decide to take a little nap.

Whatever. I shrugged it off. So what if they magically appeared on my face, atleast I wasn't as blind as a bat. It's a lot better compared to rush-hour mornings where I would cause significant damage to any furniture near my bed in search of my spectacles. And said furniture isn't even insured.

I found that the rude jock was sitting on a folding chair beside the bed I was lying on. At first glance, I guessed that I was in the nurses's office. Oh boy. What did I do on my first day to earn a broken bone?

Well, it didn't seem like I had any snapped femurs, but my head hurt a lot. Do I have a concussion or something?

Anyway, this stupid skeleton PJ was just sitting there, scrolling through something on his phone. I stared at him for a few seconds until he seemed to feel my burning gaze. He then looked up at me with the most bored-looking eyes I've ever seen.

Wow. Am I that bad at entertaining people? I mean, I don't consider myself as a social butterfly or anything, but I think I'm pretty decent at socialising (I was conked out in the infirmary for two hours straight, so scratch that...).

'Uh... w-why are you, um, here?' I mentally cursed myself for stuttering. Now he's going to think I'm an idiot. Great job me.

Why does it always happen that my sarcastic self never shows through to my outside? No wonder everyone picks on me.

Oh well. I was still pretty dazed and confused by what happened. Not to mention this killer headache. I demand answers, now!

PJ let out an annoyed sigh. 'Look nerd, I didn't want to, but I had to get you all the way here after you were stupid enough to get hit by a basketball.'

He sounded really irritated, as though it was all my fault. I bit back down the urge to yell at him for being the rudest jock in existence. He didn't have to take me to the infirmary, someone else could have done it instead. God, it's like we were fated to hate each other as soon as I bumped into him in the morning. That seems like such a long time ago now...

I hadn't expected to get hit by that ball. I didn't have enough time to react. Although, to be fair, I would have still gotten hit by the ball even if I had time to yell or even duck out of the way. And that's because I'm a floundering manga-obsessed idiot with absolutely zero athletic talent whatsoever. But there was no point in mentioning that to PJ.

So instead, I said a bit more quietly, 'But you didn't need to help, right?' I mean, it was nice of PJ and all, but he's still a jock. Why in God's name would he help a nerd like me?

Maybe he really did care, a little...?

'Coach Error told me to, and since when did I say no to my dad?' the jock said, poker-faced now.