I woke up with my head in such an excruciating pain that I couldn't force my eyes open. It felt as if someone was taking a chisel and hammer against both temples-inside and out. The millisecond I did open my eyes, I cried out and rolled over on to my side, burying my face in the darkness of my hands to keep the sun from breaking through my half open lids and sending another sharp pain through my head.
I could feel an uneasiness begin to unfurl in my stomach in addition to the pain. The only time I'd felt this bad was seventh grade when I'd been sent home with an optical migraine. I'd tried so desperately to explain it to Landon during and after the headache, but he couldn't quite grasp exactly how I was feeling, so I had left it alone.
I curled my fingers in the sleeping back as my stomach started to churn. I knew I had only had about a minute before the little I'd eaten was going to come back up. I nearly threw myself through my bedroom window and rushed to the bathroom, missing the sink by a fraction of an inch the first time it came up. The second, I bent over the cold, white counter, pushing my hair back. With every movement came another sharp pain; a vicious cycle that continued until I started dry heaving. Once done, I twisted the hard knob on the sink and listened the running water, my fingers crossed that my brother and Colton were out or hadn't heard anything.
Unfortunately, I heard the thunderous sound of my brother's footsteps as he rushed up the stairs only seconds after I'd finished throwing up. The little energy I had running in here had been drained, my body slumping back against the bathroom door. Landon fought with my door, the knob jiggling in the hinges for a few seconds before it was pushed open and I was greeted by the not-so-pleasant sight of his worried expression. He looked toward the sink, touching his forearm to his mouth for a moment, as if he were trying to ease his own stomach and took a towel to it, wiping the little that had ended up on the counter.
I jerked away the moment the back of his warm hand pressed against my cheek, then my forehead. He shook his head, eyes wandering my ashen face.
"You're staying home today." he said quietly. "You're going to a doctor tomorrow and I don't want you to fight me. Now go lay down, get some rest, and make sure to keep your phone at your side at all times so I can call and check in on you, alright?"
I nodded, only adding to the pounding in my head from his seemingly loud speaking. I turned my back to him, touching the beads of cold sweat along my forehead. I hoped sitting on my bed would be enough to get him out of the room for a little while. In the case I'd get sick again, I didn't want him present. He stared at me for what felt like a century before he nodded to himself and stalked out of my room.
Sadly, with his exit came Colton's entrance.
I half expected him to laugh and tell me that this was the consequence of downing nearly a bottle of liquor last night, but he didn't even look in my direction. He set a plate with a chocolate chip bagel on the comforter beside me, then laid another with a glass of ice water and a bottle of Advil on my nightstand. His eyes find mine for a minute and we stared at each other until he finally broke contact. He closed my door behind him, leaving it open only a crack so my brother wouldn't have to fight it again.
The tip of my index finger brushed across the smooth surface of the bagel; a food that I'd fallen in love with at a young age and had been inseparable with since. Nobody had ever been able to talk me out of eating a bagel every morning-except myself, I suppose.
I then turned my attention to the water and Advil, my eyes tracing the outline of Colton's fingerprints along the dewy glass. I touched the lid of the pills, shooting a look toward the door, struggling to get each word passed my raw throat as if the athlete still stood in my doorway.
"Thank you."
*
"I don't think Coach realizes how much of a fail it's going to be without Landon and Colt." There was such a light playfulness in Isabelle's voice as he spoke of the pep rally Friday that I tore my eyes from her notes and looked toward her at the other end of the table.
She was in the midst of organizing her binder, red hair a curtain around her, hiding her face from sight. But I didn't have to see her to know there was a clear amusement in her eyes and smile. She'd dragged me to every pep rally the last three years. Her fascination with watching Coach fail may have had something to do with the fact that the assistant coach was her older brother. Despite him having about ten years on Landon, my brother had always found a way to get under his skin. Isabelle, needless to say, would tease her brother for the rest of the year following every disastrous pep rally.
I couldn't disagree that the rally probably wouldn't be the same this year. Landon and Colton, not only star football players, but the light of everyone's life at the school, had graduated.
"I bet his eye will start twitching like it does when he's pis-" The words died in Isabelle's mouth when my front door swung open and Colton walked in.
His afternoon run likely hadn't ended well. Considering he left the house in a tight white v-neck and was now had it draped over his forearm meant one of two things. He had either spilt something on it or got so hot sweat had soaked right through it and he figured he'd be better off without it. Isabelle looks away from Colton and smirks, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively in my direction. I didn't respond.
I wasn't oblivious to Colton's looks nor had I ever been. He was well built; being in the weight room at school for hours and running twice to three times every day did that to you. Colt had just been there so often my entire life, that he'd almost become part of Landon.
Isabelle, realizing I wasn't going to respond, looked back over at Colton. "Where's your shirt, Hunter? Leave it at a girl's house again?"
I watched the right side of his mouth curve into a half smile hearing the question.
"Spilt coffee on it, actually, Watson." He laughed.
My happiness of not being involved with any of the conversation was short lived when Colton walked over and stopped beside me.
"You okay?"
There was something about the way he said it that made me question if he were talking just about this morning.
"I feel a little better. At least I can think." I muttered. He opened his mouth to say something, but Isabelle curses loudly, shoving her phone back into her purse with a groan.
"I better go. My parents need me to watch the twins." She sighed. Colton steps aside so my best friend can squeeze between us and hugs me, smoothing my hair down as she looked me in the eyes and said "Feel better."
She then purposely rams her shoulder into Coltons with a wink and a pat on the shoulder. He shook his head, waiting until she waved and closed the door behind her to mutter something incoherent under his breath. I wasn't sure I really wanted to hear what it was anyway.
"Have you eaten?" Colton asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence.
I shrugged, throwing a quick sideways glance in his direction. "Sure."
Of course he didn't leave it alone and walked into the kitchen with a yawn, leaning back against the counter opposite the fridge.
"What will you eat?"
I wanted to respond, but decided I'd be better off keeping my mouth shut and shaking my head. I was startled out of my daze when his palm was slammed against the hardwood table in front of me. Looking up, I didn't know whether to be fearful of what he was about to say or if he had just seriously injured his hand. Catching sight of him, the action hadn't seemed to phase him at all.
"We've got to get something in you, Avery. I'm honestly surprised you haven't passed out yet." He said with a dark look.
Me too, I wanted to say.
Still not getting a verbal response out of me, he started digging through my fridge as if it's his own and pulled out the ingredients for quesadillas.
A quiet laugh broke passed his full, chapped lips. "You used to love helping my mom make these for us when she babysat you. I've altered her recipe a bit, but come on, you've got to come and help me."
I started to politely talk my way out of helping, then stopped midway when I saw the desperation in his eyes. He wanted me to help; he wanted to see me enact in some sort of human interaction. If it was what was going to get him and Landon off my back, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
He grinned when I pushed away from the table and joined him in the kitchen, listening intently as he explains what to do. I waited until his full attention was on the food to stare at his profile, the creases of concentration along his forehead and tight jaw.
As I stood there, beside Colton, I couldn't help but feel a slight flutter of my heart as I realized that maybe I wasn't in this alone.
***AN***
*Unedited*
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