A Hotter Touch, A Better F... Than Any Girl You'll Ever Meet

Chapter 9

Spencer didn't stop, though. He kept poking around, relentlessly.

I managed to let out a choked whimper over the handle of the spoon.

"Be careful," I heard Brendon's voice from behind me. "You're hurting him."

"You're one to talk about hurting Ryan, huh?" Spencer shot back.

I wanted to tell them to shut up and stop fighting over something as worthless as me, but how could I? I'd barely been able to get that whimper out. Instead I felt the spoon hit home again and again I retched forcefully, feeling the burning sensation of the sour bile all way up my throat and the disgusting taste in my mouth.

Apparently Spencer had finally found the right spot because from then on I barely had time to breathe before vomiting again and again until I was dry-heaving, nothing left in my stomach at all.

And never had I loved Brent more than when I heard his yell of, "The ambulance is here!"

My head was lolling back and my conscience was slipping out of my grasp again.

Spencer slapped me one more time, and as far as I could feel it was harder than it had been the previous times.

I was picked up again, only this time I was pretty sure it was Brendon. Not only had his arm never left me, he also didn't smell like Spencer. He carried me bridal style out of the bathroom, the apartment, down the stairs and out the front door of the building.

Then somebody else took hold of me and I was heaved and strapped onto a bed of sorts and was being rolled while I still recognised both the sounds of Brendon's and Spencer's feet beside me.

"We can only bring one other person in the ambulance," a stranger told them.

"Want to go?" I heard Spencer ask.

"What? Me? No, I doubt I'm the first person he wants to see when he gets back to his senses. You're his best friend, go!" came Brendon's rushed answer.

"Boys, we don't have all day," the same stranger informed them inpatiently as some kind of a mask was pressed over my face and oxygen was more or less pumped into my lungs as an effort to ease my labored breathing.

"Brendon..." Spencer started.

An insecure part of me was starting to think that he really didn't want to ride with me. And I was so scared of being left alone with the strangers. For reasons I to this day can't explain or even understand, I latched my hand out, searching, until I could grasp hold of somebody else's. I quickly felt around the hand. Soft palms and calloused fingers. Guitar-hands, or possibly keyboard-hands. Drum-hands would be the other way around, calloused palms and soft fingertips. With this knowledge, I tightened my hold, locking Brendon's hand in a dead-grip.

I guess the most reasonable explanation would be the fact that I felt so safe with him and that Spencer's way of handling everything had scared me. Not to mention the fact that I still felt uncomfortable about the talk we'd had after I'd remembered the events in elementary school.

"Go!" Spencer urged.

"Spencer..." Brendon's voice was more or less a whimper. "Don't leave me alone with him."

Alright, I'll admit that hurt. I'd felt safe with him, but he didn't want to offer that security any longer. So I started to ease my grip.

"Boys, no more of this," the stranger said. "This is against all protocol, but just hop in both of you. You shouldn't take up too much space anyway."

Then, finally, I was pushed into the ambulance, about to release Brendon's hand when it latched onto mine as desperately as mine had to his.

"We'll follow in one of the cars!" I heard Pete's yell from somewhere off to the side. His voice still sounded choked. "Meet you at the hospital!"