My days in the hospital came and went, each one becoming more mind numbingly boring than the last.
They all seemed to pass similar to the previous one before it, and before I knew it, I quickly found myself falling into a routine.
Nurses would flood in and out of my room every few hours to check on me and I spent a majority of my day laying in bed. There really wasn't much I could do besides watch television and complain to Livi.
Sabrina had attempted to visit me again during the week, however I had been either asleep or attempting the numerous physical therapy exercises I'd been assigned to do everyday whenever she stopped by. It took a large majority of my active time and it made me miss just laying in the hospital bed.
Like Harry had said nearly a week before, the recovery process was going to be long and uncomfortable, and it hadn't proved to be any different. There were points where I would be under so much pain from doing an exercise so simply that I nearly found myself bursting into tears.
Yet despite all the downsides of being run over by a vehicle, I managed to try and focus on the bright side of the unfortunate situation. It wasn't like I had magically healed, seeing as all the bones I fractured stayed that way (and would continue to stay that way for coming weeks to months). However, the numerous bruises I had scattered across my body were fading and my skin was returning the normal hue it had been beforehand.
It felt nice to look into the mirror and finally not wince completely at the sight of myself. Before, the sight of the bruises had made me squirm and I could hardly look at the swelling caused by the broken limbs without wanting to gag.
I had to admit, however, that the purple cast was a nice touch to my typical look.
With everything finally fading, I begin to look a little more like myself again. I managed to look past the dark eyebags and the scars that I knew would never go away, and somehow smile at the reflection displayed across from me.
Things could always be worse.
My current physical shape, however, did not make it any less upsetting that I would be most likely spending the rest of my summer at home and in bed. Livi did promise to keep me company though.
The two of us had gotten closer throughout our hospital stays and we had planned a number of days that we could hang out. We shared the same physical therapy session times, as well as roomed together for the past week, forcing the two of us to become close. I never expected such unlikely places to begin a friendship, but I wasn't one to complain much.
Unlike myself, she didn't break any major bones. She instead has a sprained wrist, concussion, and a handful of bruises here and there. I felt completely horrible knowing that all of her injuries were my fault, though she constantly told me otherwise.
We both know, despite how reluctant she was to admit it, that if I had never driven into the intersection completely clueless and emotional, then she would have never ended up in the hospital.
"Grace," Livi groans, throwing her head back as the familiar topic comes up once again, "Get over it. I should have been looking when I started driving anyway," she shrugs, attempting to push away my blame. "You tend to forget that I was the one that hit you, not the other way around"
"Yeah, but the light was red and I just kept driving. This would have never happened if I was just paying attention." I explain, trying to once again take the blame for the situation. However, Livi wouldn't have any of it.
"Grace," she sighs, her eyes making a round trip around her skull before gluing to mine, "You're being a bit of a hypocrite. Remember what you said to Loverboy when he tried to take the blame for this?"
I sigh, deflating a bit at the mention of Harry. I hadn't seen or heard from him since the day of his visit. I had no reason to be upset, I wasn't sure if we could even consider each other friends. But an "are you okay" text would have definitely been appreciated .
On the other hand, unlike her brother, Sabrina had been checking on me almost hourly. At this point it was becoming a bit excessive.
"I'm afraid I have no idea who you're talking about," I huff, picking at the food on my plate with my fork. There was no reason to lead her onto the false idea of us being remotely close to romantically involved.
"Sure." She sounded unconvinced.
"Besides, my conversation with Harry was completely different," I mumble, slumping in the chair that I was currently sitting in.
Livi and I had gone out for our routine lunch date in the hospital cafeteria and it was both fortunately and unfortunately the last one we would be having here together. She was being discharged that day and I had been set to follow in the next few coming ones.
She shrugs, stuffing a piece of bread into her mouth, "It's really not."
The rest of our conversation followed along similar lines, the two of us bickering back and forth like 80 year old women, before being sent back to our rooms for yet another physical therapy session. Afterwards, I helped Livi as much as I could with packing up her belongings. Considering that I have to transport myself around in a wheelchair a majority of the time, I wasn't very much help.
I opted to be her personal cheerleader instead.
"Yeah, you got it, pack those bags up real good," I cheer, continuously hooting and hollering at her to pick up the pace. "Yeah, I like to see the hustle. Work those arms."
I could tell I was getting on the other girls nerves by the way that you could almost see steam blowing from her ears. It didn't take her long to crack.
"I swear to god, if you say one more thing," Livi practically snarls, peeking her head over her shoulder to send me a scowl, "I will backhand you so hard that you fall unconscious."
I don't ever think I've shut up so quickly. I didn't doubt her words for a second.
"Yeah that's what I thought," she huffs, turning back to her bags to throw the final piece of her belongings into it. She hauls it over her shoulder with a small huff before turning back towards me. "So are you gonna walk me out or am I going to have to drag out there with me?"
Despite her life threatening remarks, there was no doubt that I was sad to see Livi go.
Of course I was glad to see that she recovered enough to leave the hospital, but I selfishly wish I wouldn't be left alone again. My injuries were much more severe, so it went without explanation for why I would be stuck here a while longer.
I willingly followed Livi out the door, wheeling my way besides her towards the exit doors and bidding her my goodbyes, a get well soon, and a safe ride home. We didn't really want a repeat of what landed her into the hospital in the first place.
It seemed impossible for the days to pass any slower than they already did, however, per usual, the world found a way to prove me wrong. Only an hour into Livi leaving, I was bored out of my mind and hanging upside down off my hospital bed.
I binged multiple seasons of almost every kind of trash reality TV I could get my hands onto. Dances Mom by far was my favorite, KUWTK a close contender. By the time I was finished, I could literally feel my brain melting. I managed to incorporate a few sayings from each show into my casual conversations.
The nurses weren't much of a fan of that.
Eventually, my own day to leave rolled around. If my leg hadn't almost been snapped in half, I would have been jumping for joy. I knew at home that I wouldn't do anything much different then I did here, but the idea of being able to sleep in my own bed again and eat food of my own choosing had my elated.
My entire family picked me up from the hospital that day and it felt nice to finally be together again. I felt as if I hadn't spent time with them all together in forever and I had to admit, even though I would never say it to their faces, I missed them all.
"Gracie," Sammy calls, holding up a blue vase that once contained flowers, "Are we allowed to take these with us?"
I could practically facepalm with how clueless my sister was at times.
"No dingbat," I scoff, reaching to pull the vase from her hands, "This is a hospital, not a hotel."
I wondered sometimes how I could be related to someone so different.
It was nearly impossible to tell that the two of us were sisters to even begin with. While I had a head of dark wavy hair, she had one of straight, almost platinum blonde hair. And my brown eyes were a very contrasting shade to her bright blue ones.
Don't even get me started on how differing our body types were. While she was lean, short and slender, I looked like a NFL linebacker because of my wide shoulders and muscular frame. I could swear that one of us must have been switched at birth.
"Whatever." The blonde rolls her eyes at me, ignoring my insult, before returning back to what she was doing previously. She was currently the only one in the room with me, besides my mother who was busying herself with packing my bags. My other three sisters were scrounging the hospital cafeteria, trying to consume as much complementary free food as they could.
My mom displays a scowl, throwing the bag at Samantha to hold before facing back to chastise me with a pointed finger.
"Be nice to your sister, Grace."
"Yeah be nice to me," she grins, poking at the TV hung up in the corner of my room. "Do you think they would notice if this was gone?" She murmurs, playing with the idea of how she could possibly sneak it into one of my bags.
I have to literally bite my tongue before another ill name leaves my mouth. Instead, I roll my eyes back and butt the end of my wheelchair into her legs.
Doctors said that I had to stay put in it until the bruising around my fractured ribs and leg faded and the swelling went down. They gave it a week until I would be allowed to walk around with the help of my boot and promise to be extra careful of my ribcage.
"You have all your things together Grace?" my mom checks, throwing a couple more things of mine into the last bag before hanging it across the back of my chair. I nod, gripping my hands onto the wheels of the chair to begin following her out the door. On our way out, I passed a few of the nurses who I've gotten to know over the past couple weeks, bidding my thank you's and farewells to them as I came across them. I had a feeling that the majority of them were probably glad to see me go, seeing as they were completely over my constant bickering back and forth about how completely bored to death I was, but they managed to put on a smile and wave when they saw me go.
....
I hadn't expected myself to be scared of getting back inside the car, however when the moment finally arised, panic consumed my body. I truly had no reason to be freaking out; I was sitting in the backseat, far away from the windshield and gas pedal. I wasn't the one driving, and I was also in the safest position out of everyone in the car.
However, I still struggled to keep my breathing even, choppy breaths coming from in and out my mouth as I attempted to keep the growing anxiety attack at bay. My mother was the first to sense my panic, a look of pity flashing over her face as she helped me into my seat. She tried her best to calm with me with a few soothing words, guaranteeing me that I was completely safe and the ride home was only a ten minute car ride. Yet, the reassurance did little to nothing.
I was sitting up straight in my seat, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm my rapid heartbeat. To help with distracting myself, I stuck earphones into my ears, turning my music up and closing my eyes. I rested my head against the seat, taking deep breaths in and out as I tried to concentrate on anything but the moving car. The distraction seemed to work pretty well because soon enough I felt myself being shoved, my sisters rushing to get out of the car and back to their rooms.
Each one climbed over me, a few of them knocking into my arm and leg, not even giving me a simple "sorry" afterward. I didn't care enough to get mad about it because at the moment, the only thing I wanted to do was get out of the car.
My mom walked around back to my car door, unfolding the wheelchair from the back seat and helping me into it. I felt that I looked beyond dumb trying to get around in the chair and let out a humourless laugh as I struggled to wheel myself over the cracked cobblestone leading to our house. I only managed to get about halfway up to the front door before the chair wheel got stuck in a crack.
It was still difficult for me to grasp the idea that I was practically useless at the moment. Only two weeks ago, I was able to get myself from one place to another with ease. I could drive myself places without freaking out about the possibility of crashing as soon as I sat in a car. I could turn one way or another without wincing in pain. I was able to walk up the stupid path of my own home without getting stuck.
Now, I couldn't be farther from that past reality.
My mom turned to look behind her, seeing me sitting in place, hands covering my face as I rapidly tried to blink back the angry tears. My emotions had been all over the place and for some reason, I thought going home would give me some sort of relief.
I obviously couldn't have been more wrong. I wasn't even through the front door and I was practically crying already.
"Honey," my mom calls, squatting down to look at me at eye level, "What's wrong?"
Her question makes me want to scoff, but I manage to swallow down the attitude, knowing that none of this was her fault. Instead I just shrug.
"It's going to get better," she promises, rubbing circles with her hand on my back, "You just need to give yourself to time to get used to the changes."
"Yeah," I nod, bringing my hands up to rub at my eyes, "But it's hard. I feel like an old person, not being able to do anything for myself."
She gives me a knowing look, used to me trying to deflect off the serious moment with humor. Still, she nods in acknowledgment.
"I know," she sighs sadly, holding my hand in hers and giving it a tight squeeze, "But if anyone can do it, you can." With one last reassuring look she walks behind me to help push me through the front door.
...
Of course she was right. Though it may have not been easy, I was able to adapt to my new current living situation.
For one, I figured out how to get upstairs by myself. I employed the same technique Sabrina used when she was trying to get up them herself the first time without my help. I liked to call it the 'sit and scouch method', also known as sitting on a stair and lifting yourself up one by one.
Time costly but effective.
I also found a new effective transportation method, something I liked to call the "Bear Trolley". I would simply call Bear, who would come trotting over with his leash in paw, which I would attach to my chair for him to pull me around in. It was a bit dangerous at times and I've managed to tip the chair over more than once, but at least it was good exercise for the dog.
Yet, things like these could only keep me occupied for so long. It wasn't long before I was bored out of my mind, once again.
I desperately needed to get out of the house, leading me back into one of the things I could care less for at the moment.
For the past couple weeks I had been only in my home. Not once have I gotten back into the car. The crippling anxiety I had for it kept me from doing the simple things I used to enjoy: destinationless car rides with Sabrina, trips to the mall, visiting friends.
Well, it's not like I could really drive myself around anyway. Two weeks later and I was finally out of my chair, however the cast on both my arm and leg would be there for the next few weeks to months. Which is why driving hasn't really even been an option in the first place.
Yet, when did not being able to do something ever stop me?
"Okay Gracie," I murmur, grunting as I struggle to lift myself into the driver's seat of the car, "you're totally fine. You used to drive all the time, this won't be any different."
I huff out a breath as I finally correctly position myself into the Suburban. My mom's car was the only one available at the moment so I had to settle with what I had. My car was who knows where and I figured the passenger side was still completely demolished from the accident.
I had the vehicle no more than three days before I destroyed it.
New record.
"Alright, you got this," I encourage, shaking my hands out before I place them onto the wheel, taking another deep breath before putting the key into the ignition, turning it and igniting the car to life.
My hand floats over to the middle console before I gingerly place it on top of the joystick in the middle. Slowly, I pull the car into reverse, lifting my foot from the break; with that, the car begins slowly backing out of the driveway.
The moment I meet the end of the driveway, I turn behind me to see the numerous other cars running up and down the different sides of the street. When the idea first popped into my head I figured I would be more than capable of handling it myself. It had been nearly a month since the accident and I figured the time would have been enough for me to recover from the new fear.
However, the realization of what I'm doing and what could happen because of it hits me like a freight train and I'm immediately pulling the car into park.
"Oh hell no," I breathe, throwing the car door open and limping away from the automobile as quickly as possible, "What the hell was I thinking". I felt the need to put as much distance between me and the vehicle as soon as possible.
I march my way back up the driveway, huffing and puffing with frustration at myself and my stupid broken bones, reaching for the front door and yanking it open. I stomp through the door, wanting to scream as I sit myself onto the couch, flopping back onto it in defeat.
"Grace?" my mom calls, peeking her head through the open doorway of the living room, a confused look on her face as she takes in my current situation "Are you okay?"
I turn my head towards her to give her a 'do I look okay to you?' look flopping my face into the cushion of the couch seat, screaming into it.
"Oh honey," she sighs, making her way through the living room and placing herself onto the couch beside me. A hand comes in contact with my back, rubbing comforting circles into it, eventually pulling me up to sit up straight.
"I know how much this must suck for you," she comforts, pulling me into her side, "but all you can do at the moment is wait for yourself to heal. It's going to take time, but when it happens, you'll be more than grateful that you waited to get better."
"I know," I nod, the frustration of the situation still bubbling, "I'm just so over it. I want to be able to do something other than lay around in the house all day."
"I understand that," she comforts, rubbing a hand up and down my opposite arm, "But there isn't much you can do besides that."
I shrug, choosing to remain silent. I knew she was right, I just hated to acknowledge it out loud.
"I saw you get into the car," she laughs lightly, her head turning to look at me as she changed the subject. "Not quite sure what you were thinking about getting into it considering it would be illegal for you to drive injured like this."
"I almost stopped you before I figured you would never go through with something like that."
"Oh wow thanks," I mutter, my tone dripping with sarcasm, "I appreciate the faith you have in me." She rolls her eyes and continues to speak, ignoring my comment completely.
"If you really wanted to go somewhere, you know I would be more than happy to take you. I truly don't mind," she shrugs, patting my leg as she stands, "I'm sure Sabrina would love to see you. You two haven't hung out since you've been home."
"Yeah," I agree, pushing myself off the couch, making sure to be careful of my casts, "If you really insist on taking me, then I guess that I can go over."
"I'd be more than happy to" she smiles, helping me to my feet, "You truely need to get out of the house. It's sad seeing you sit around all day."
...
The ride there was as I expected it to be; anxiety filled, but, nonetheless, more bearable. I shoved my earphones into my ears, turning the music up to the highest volume for the most effective distraction. I closed my eyes and sat back in the seat as I let the music take over, trying to forget where I was momentarily. It seemed to be the best coping mechanism I had at the moment.
Soon enough, we arrived. My mom gave me a smile and kiss on the cheek, getting out of the car to help me out of the passenger side - even though I insisted numerous times that it was both unnecessary and embarrassing - before bidding me goodbye. I waved to her as she pulled out of Sabrina's humongous driveway, hobbling up the cobblestone pathway that led to the front door.
I had second hand embarrassment imagining myself walking up, picturing myself struggling to drag my foot behind me before using my bright purple arm cast to bang the door.
I waited patiently for the door to open, staring off a bit as I waited. My eyes traced the porch and the visible car in the driveway. Soon my eyes dragged down to the cast on my arm and leg, tracing the visible names seen on them.
Large letters were drawn all across it in all sorts of fonts. All of my sisters had signed it, as well as Livi and Sabrina, each one leaving short and sweet messages that wished me well soon. However, those weren't the first signatures to catch my attention.
The tiniest one, but possibly the most meaningful to me.
I wouldn't let myself stare at it any longer though, my attention soon focusing back on the door.
I was sure enough time had passed before I decided to knock on it again, huffing out a breath as I continued to wait a little less patiently. I use my uninjured arm to reach behind me and grab my phone from the pocket, pulling it out in front of me. I tap the screen, turning it on and quickly typing in my passcode, quickly swiping through my contacts until my finger hovered shortly over Sabrina's name.
I instantly tap it, bringing the device up to my ear, shuffling back and forth on my feet a bit as I wait. The phone rang a few times in my ear, somewhat tauntingly, before the voicemail cut through.
"Hey! It's Sabrinas, sorry that I missed your call. I was probably asleep or eating. Anyway, I'll try to call you back as soon - Louis you idiot! Can you not see that I'm on the phone. Get out of - Of course I want to go out to eat. Have you met me? Okay, thanks, now go away so I can finish this. Sorry about that, as I was saying, I'll try to call you back as I can. Thnks, bye!"
I shut my phone off as the voicemail ends, huffing out a breath and slumping my back on the door, sliding down it until my bottom makes contact with the floor. I dialed the number a few more times only to end up with the same result.
"Of course I finally come over and she's not even here," I grumble, placing my phone into my lap, staring at the lit up screen. Quickly, I unlock it again, pulling up my mom's contact name and pressing the call button.
Technology must have stopped working or everyone just decided to not pick up their phone today because the call reaches a deadline. I instantly redial her, but once again receive a similar result.
"Damn it," I breathe, throwing my head back against the. Not only was Sabrina not home, but I was also stranded on her front porch until someone decided to pick up my phone call.
I close my eyes, taking another deep breathe to calm the sudden wave of frustration. I've been having trouble controlling my different emotions recently, but I found that getting lost inside my brain, as cliche as it sounded, helped sometimes.
However, I should have expected any sort of peace of mine to be ruined.
Not even five minutes passed before my short bit of peace was interrupted. Out of nowhere my back begins losing contact with the front door, causing my top half to crash down through the now open threshold.
My body lands with a loud 'thump', my head hitting the tiled floors inside. An instant wave of pain shoots up my skull and I psychically groan, my hand immediately reaching up to soothe the ache in any way I could.
Whoever opened the door lets out a high yelp, and I can hear as they jump back a little at the surprise of my arrival.
"Oh shit," the familiar accent cuts through, my eyes immediately shooting open at the sound. "Are you okay? I didn't even know you were here. I thought someone dropped off a package or something."
My eyes immediately land on the brunette, a few of Harry's dark curls hanging down from his forehead as he leans down to look at me. The close proximity allows me to notice a thin layer of sweat beading his forehead and the scrunchy tying up the back of his hair. Gym shorts hang loosely from his hips, and I can physically see how hard he's breathing. It was almost impossible not to stare at the many tattoos on his chest, the butterfly catching my attention.
"I like the butterfly," I point, completely ignoring his question. I continue to scan my eyes over his chest, not really caring about whether or not he noticed, eyeing the different pieces of art scattered across it.
"Uh, thanks," he coughs, leaning down further to help pull me up. He's careful of the cast on my arm and leg, opting to loop his arm under my waist to pull me up. I immediately grimace when his sticky skin comes in contact with mine, unable to control the "Ew," from falling from my lips.
He lets out a low laugh, continuing to keep an arm looped around me despite already helping me up. "Sorry, I was working out. Didn't expect any guest," he shrugs, eyeing me, "Sabrina isn't home right now if that's why you're here."
"Figured, she wouldn't answer my calls," I reply, rubbing my head because of the ache. "My mom dropped me off, since ya know, and she wouldn't answer my calls afterward to pick me up."
He nods with the realization. "Hence you stranded on the doorstep," he chuckles, releasing his hold from around me, a look of worry flashing over his face as he notices the bit of discomfort I seemed to be in. "You okay?"
"Oh, uh, yeah," I stutter, my hand flying to the side of my body, "It's just that, when you opened the door, I didn't really expect it and ended up making contact with the floor a little harder then I would have liked. No big deal" I try to shrug off.
By the look on his face however, I can tell that he's not buying it. Instead, he loops his hand around mine and begins pulling me in the direction of the kitchen. The sudden girk of motion takes me by surprise.
"Uh, whatcha doing buddy," I laugh, not sure what to make of the sudden rush, much less the hand holding.
"Getting you ice," he states bluntly, possibly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"I know where the kitchen is, I can get it myself," I reply, not wanting to be more of a burden, "Don't feel required to baby me because you feel bad."
I might of hit some sort of nerve because suddenly, he stops abruptly, nearly causing me to topple into him. His head turns to look over his shoulder, eyes scanning mine briefly and letting out a small sigh.
"I don't pity you if that's what your worried about," he speaks, hand still held tightly in mine. "Of course I feel bad that you're in pain and there's nothing I can do, but I'm not going to treat you any differently."
"So you'll go back to ignoring me and classify me as 'Sabrinas annoying friend'" I laugh, trying to hide any genuine worry that I he just might.
"More like her only friend," he scoffs, but I can see his lips tip up in the corner nonetheless. "And I don't think I could go back to treating you like that even if I wanted to."
His words stun me into silence. He sounded so completely genuine that there was no room for me to doubt his words even for a second. I didn't even have it in me to come up with some awkward reply before he begin speaking again.
"So," he says, seeming to be a bit flustered himself, "Ice? For your head I mean."
I simply nod and allow him to continue to pull me in the direction of the kitchen. He's careful to not pull me too fast or harshly, keeping a slow pace for my sake of keeping up. When he notices how much trouble I'm having sitting myself onto the high bar chair, he takes matters into his own hands and places me up there himself.
"Here," he says, handing me the blue ice pack, "15 minutes on, 10 minutes off."
I reach over the bar, grabbing the pack from his hands, and reaching my other hand towards my head to salute him. "Sir, yes sir," I grin, carefully placing the ice onto my head. I watch his eyes roll back, but once again that half smile picks at the end of his lips.
"So," he shuffles, suddenly looking extremely interested in his hands, "What have you been up to since I've last seen you?"
Despite its simplicity, his question seems to fluster him more than myself. The fact that he was trying to start a conversation at all had me gaping at him as if he had grown a second head.
"No way," I practically gasp, eyes bugging a bit, "Is Mr. "I'm too cool for you" trying to make small talk with me?"
"I've never said that I'm too cool for you," he frowns, eyebrows furrowing as he considers it momentarily, "Is that what you actually think though?"
He seems to be genuinely interested in my answer because his quickly eyes switch from their focus on his hands to my own face.
However, the sudden seriousness of his question has me squirming a bit, so I do the best I can to push the tension back down.
"It's been applied" I shrug, balancing the ice bag on my head as some sort of distraction. "But, to answer your question, I haven't been up to much. There really is much I can do with the state I'm in at the moment."
"I'm sure that's not true."
I frown, my forehead wrinkling at the action. "What's that supposed to mean."
It's his turn to shrug, thinking back about the meaning of his question himself. "I don't mean it to sound deep or anything, it's just that, you don't seem like the kind of person to let a situation like this stop you from doing something you wish you could do."
His explanation baffles me, never expecting him to assume something so true about me. That assumption couldn't have been made without a bit of observation.
"You think that?" I murmur, suddenly extremely interested in my own hands. I expected momentary hesitation from him, seeing as the answer could have been a bit more 'feeling-sy' then he would have liked, however I couldn't have been more wrong.
Without missing a beat, he answers. "Of course I think that. How could I not think that?" He eyes glance at the ceiling, taking a second to consider his words before flicking back towards me.
"I know things have been weird for a while between us. Especially since the whole kitchen incident," he draws out, and I struggle to focus on anything but the way he's looking at me. You can tell that all really matters at the moment to him is this. Every ounce of his attention is focused on me, watching for any sort of reaction that may emerge because of what he's about to say.
"More specifically, how it all ended up."
Though his eyes stay glued to mine, he takes another deep breath, preparing himself for what he may say. Yet, so suddenly and unexpectedly , a shy but coy smile takes over his handsome features. Even more unexpected is the small string of laughs that bubble from his lips.
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh," he apologizes quickly, but still continues to let out a string of contagious laughs, "It's just hard to take you serious when you're sitting across from me with an ice pack balanced on your head and using your cast as a cup holder."
Earlier Harry had offered me a glass of water and, with nowhere to put it, I used the curved casted part around my hand to hold onto it. I personally thought it was an effective life hack. I considered it was me making due with what I had.
"Leave me and my cup holder alone," I mutter, trying my best to hide my own laughter. One glance at the show stopping grin on Harry's face however has me cracking. I make one last unsuccessful attempt at painfully biting down on my lip, in an attempt to maintain my poker face, but I end up with no such luck.
The two of us are grinning so widely at each other that I swear my cheeks may bruise. I've never seen his own dimples so deeply engraved and eyes so bright green that I feel the need to take my phone out and capture this moment so that I can have it forever.
Yet, slowly and inevitably, his happiness diminishes until the previous serious look he held before, returned.
"I want you to know that what Sabrina said, about Rylee and comparing my relationship with the two of you, couldn't have been further from the truth." The nervousness has returned and I watch him bite down on his lip as he holds another internal debate. His hand reaches up to push the curls out his face. The scrunchie he had previously disappeared somewhere along the way to the kitchen, now resulting in a large mess of hair falling into his eyes nearly every time he looked down at me.
"I know you have no reason to believe me. You barely know me and only have my reputation to go off of. But if you let me, I would like for you to get to know me. I'd like to try and open up to you."