Temporary Bliss

SIXTEEN

"It was a mistake-"

"A mistake?" I yell, trying to drag myself closer but Summer is digging her heels in to stop me. "You don't ever distract someone who's supporting a person in the air. I could have broken my neck!"

Fear floods through me and he genuinely looks scared, regretful of his actions. Jonah gets shoved slightly and he stumbles, looking to his captain with confusion. I stare in shock and stop from pulling against Summer as Sam scolds him.

"Keep moving. Now," Jonah takes off after a moment and Sam approaches drawing the air from my lungs. He glances at my hand and meets my eyes with worry. "I'm sorry this happened. If you need something, let me know and I'll be more than willing to help."

Glancing at Jonah I narrow my eyes with hate. "Make him run."

"You've got it," Surprised by his remark I glance at him in disbelief and he seems to catch on to my own emotions. He flattens his lips to a straight line. "Take care of yourself and let me know if I need to ask for an extension about our assignment tomorrow - I doubt we wouldn't get one."

Nodding I lean back into Summer, exhaling slowly and start walking towards the stairs. I glance back at Sam who's scanning me cautiously and only stops when one of his teammates calls out to him.

Summer hums slightly. "That was nice of him to offer."

"I know." I barely whisper to her in response.

"So did you willingly pair up with him for the assignment?" Before I can open my mouth she's quick to add reason to her questioning. "Truthfully, I think he has a thing for you . . . both times at the parties and intervening when you were trying to put people in their place - he wants to help you."

I pause for a second before answering. "You seriously want to talk about boys now?"

"Well everytime I mention it you beat me away, this time you can't. So, he's hot and I think you should make a move on him before Phoebe beats you to it."

"He's nice to everyone - you're probably reading too much into it." I try to lie.

"Uh huh," she scoffs and finally releases me once we reach the stairs and I can lean on the railing. My head is pounding and I feel dizzy still, not to mention the pain in my arm. But at least I didn't break a leg. "So you think it's your wrist? Do you know what color you're getting the cast done?"

"I'm hoping it's not broken . . . I can't afford a broken bone right now."

"Well it's a good thing you're left handed then."

I scoff and slowly move a step at a time, aware that most people are scrambling away now that they've had their fill. At the top of the stairs I feel my stomach knot at the sight of an ambulance pulling into the car park.

Please don't be broken.

● ● ●

Casts are uncomfortable as hell. I've been sentenced to six weeks with the plaster healing two hairline fractures in my right wrist and hand. That means showering with a garbage bag, awkwardly getting dressed, extra cautious in the labs and no more cheerleading stunts. I didn't even realize how much I appreciated being able to put on a bra until this morning when I had to ask Summer to stop by to help me with the clasp. I feel useless and I hate it. 

"Are you sure you don't need anything before I go?" Dad asks, hovering by my bedroom door while I trace the patterns of blue plaster with my fingertips.

 Looking up, I give a lazy smile. "I'll be fine."

 Dad glances around my room as if trying to predict if something may jump out and cause another injury. He was freaked out to say the least when I arrived at the hospital. On top of the fractures I also had a mild concussion - which meant my medication needed to be monitored overnight in case I didn't wake up.