Liliana.
Most people would continue after the tragic accident in bed, in the hospital, with their parents or significant other hovered over their face, tears filling their already red-rimmed eyes, but that's not where I will continue.
Currently, I'm sprawled across the hood of some car that's sort of dented in with glass that has been cracked in a few places. Oh, and the people hovered around me are not my parents (since they're probably on their private boat or something out in the upper Atlantic Ocean. My best friend, Corinne was a few feet away with her hands frantically shaking as she yelled into the phone in rapid fire Spanish a few feet away from me.
The rest of the bridal party was weeping by the entrance of the building, but there was one person hovered over me with a seriously irritated look on his face. His deep blue—sapphire blue eyes were convincing me that they had me pinned to the car, and I wasn't there just because I was in too much pain to sit up. His dark eyebrows were furrowed as he glared into my eyes with those fierce blue ones.
His lips were curved upward in quite the opposite of what would've been a smirk had he thought the fact that I was in pain on the hood of a car was amusing. He was sneering at me, his full lips parting, his upper lip revealing some pretty teeth in his top row. It sort of made me shrink deeper into the car. His arms unfolded from the expanse of his upper body, and his big hands clenched into fists as he let his arms fall beside his body. This man was furious, and I had no clue why.
"What the hell were you thinking?" I was taken aback by his voice, and instantly, my heart jumped into my throat, blocking my airways as I attempted to suck in a giant amount of air. It was as if all the blood rushed to my ankle, knocking the wind out of me as the feeling of recognition clicked in my brain.
"Drake?" I breathed, my eyes tracing the planes of his face. The widow's peak that was sometimes shielded by the mass of dark curls that fell over his forehead was in plain sight—he had cut his hair. His locks didn't lay on his forehead, instead, ruffled because of the mild breeze that danced through the air.
Don't ask me why I just blatantly ignored his words toward me. When you have as much history with any person that I have with Drake, anything they say to you can be forgiven...well, almost anything. He cocked his head to the side upon the uttering of his name from my lips.
"Drake?" Corinne snapped her head to my direction, her eyes ablaze as she zeroed in on Drake. Her fiery Spanish slowed before her thumb softly tapped her phone, and stepped forward calculatingly. Then, she took a horrified step back, her heels clicking against the concrete harshly—she was stunned. "You little bitch. You broke her heart!" She seethed, her hand quickly reaching down toward her shoe that she quickly took off and chucked it at him.
It had hit him quite comically, the heel nailed him in the chest, but too softly to actually do damage. As it hit the ground with a light thud, we all stared back and forth between the shoe and Drake's face. Corinne's brows were raised, shocked because he didn't even flinch. The sound of him clearing his throat snapped us all out of our stupor, and my eyes met his blues once again. I was gaping at the man that stood before me, the man that didn't seem all that surprised to see me...at all.
"Drake," I repeated, firmly this time, but I was waiting on his confirmation, waiting for him to tell me that it was him. That after seven freaking years of heartache I've been suffering from, Drake Asher Roman was standing in front of me.
His features softened, and he sighed. That was it. That was my confirmation. A tear slips from my eyes without my approval—I didn't even know I was on the verge of crying.
And then I see black.
|||
Now this is the part where I tell you I woke up with my parents hovered over me, teary-eyed with sympathy pouring from them. Except, my mother was the only one with tears in her eyes, a tissue pressed against her face, and my father had a stern look on his as he held my mother from behind, comforting her.
"I think she's up," he mumbled to her, still rubbing her tummy as she sniffed, her brown eyes red-rimmed. "Can I?"
Her eyes narrow at me before she nodded her head. He pressed his lips to her temple, and her strained eyes closed, reveling in the support. My father then snapped his green eyes to mine that were identical to his, and then they turned to slits. Mine widened. "Strippers? Half naked—fully naked, grown ass men dancing, dangling their little dicks around the room—are you out of your motherfucking mind!" He bellowed. The monitor in the room squealed on me, letting him know that he had scared me with his tone. My mom yelled at me all the time. Her voice at that level, I was used to, but my dad? Rarely.
I had to have really fucked up in order to hear his voice raised at me. I opened my mouth to speak, my voice hoarse as it always is whenever I first wake up, "We were having fun." I grimaced at how rough I sounded.
"Having fun," he repeated, more than upset. "Was falling off of a building fun? Smashing a motherfucking car?" He shook his head while I winced. "And then, you didn't fall on top of your car, you fell on that pussy Drake's car!"
He wasn't finished because next he was pointing at me, "I almost beat the ever loving God out of him, but you're lucky you have a father that cares more about their daughter instead of a—" my mom put her hands on his shoulders that were more than tense before letting them fall down to his waist. She mumbled something into his side that caused him to calm down, "Babydoll, you make me worry."
"I'm sorry, Papa." I don't think there was anything else I could say. I was reckless, drinking entirely too much, not thinking at all. "I-I don't mean to worry you." My lips trembled.
"Your papa's just been extra stressed because of your brother and sister, that's all, babe. Luka got into a fight with a guy that was with Livia, and now he's in jail—"
"Jail?" My eyes nearly popped out of my head, "For what?"
"Assault." Papa breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I would be proud of him if he didn't get caught—I mean, outside of the kid's house?"
"What happened?" Luka rarely gets into scuffles because he's nice to everyone. The only enemies he has are his football rivals, and people with evil hearts. He doesn't mess around with plenty of girls—he's devoted to his school work, and he has a caring soul. Hearing him getting into fights is concerning. Someone must've really messed with Livia.
"Livia won't tell. Whatever it is had to have been bad because she locked herself in the room, and won't come out." My mom sighed. My dad mumbled things under his breath that earned him a smack to the chest.
"I'm serious!" He shook his head, "I almost broke the damn door down, but your mom is so stuck on giving her 'privacy'. She's sixteen—privacy is nonexistent. I don't need her pregnant."
He got another slap. "She won't get pregnant," my mom rolls her eyes at my father who has a permanent scowl set on his face. I smile. Papa is so dramatic. "Back to you," her brown eyes narrow at me, "You have a visitor. Take heed of what they say because for once, we," she gestures to herself and Papa, "are stepping back. You're grown, and you can make smart...semi-smart decisions for yourself." She sighs, rubbing her eyes that were tired from all the tears. "Just stay safe, baby girl. I don't want to bury you at the age of twenty-three. I didn't birth you so you could die before you've lived."
She kisses me on the forehead, mumbling that she'll see me soon, and my father does the same. I smile at their retreating forms, but the smile drops from my face as my visitor comes in. His inky, black hair was gelled backward, letting me know that this was not the night of my incident, so I must've been out for a day or two...possibly.
His dark blue eyes trailed from the end of the hospital bed, where my feet were snuggled in fuzzy socks (my mother probably put those on me) and a blanket wrapped around my lower half, all the way up to my arms, which had various cords attached to needles that were in my flesh, to finally, my face. I most likely resembled a raccoon but for the safety of my own ego, I'm going to pretend that I look like the ginger version of Sleeping Beauty.
The muscles in my cheeks decide to pull and reveal my dimples as I make a displeased face at the man that stood before me, his gaze triggering all sorts of emotions. The biggest one being loneliness. I've truly missed my best friend.
Even if the only memories I have are mostly faded because of our friendship that started at an early age. I can't even remember what I did for my birthday when I turned seventeen, let alone seven years of disconnecting with my friend, and trying to remember the fun times we had when we were ten, well, when I was ten and he was twelve. But then, the bad memories arrive, reminding me of why it was so easy for me to leave him.
He had hurt me.
Told me that I never got out much in high school, that I was so stuck on being his friend that I barely made others. All it took was my first high school party—I hadn't even known the kids at our school threw them. It was...different. I actually had fun, and I met a kid that night that changed my world.
My boyfriend before this time was this lanky guy, Nathaniel. He was the cutest, sweetest guy I've ever met, and Drake always called him a 'pussy' for never wanting to initiate sex. I had been a virgin for most of my high school career, until my senior year when me and my current boyfriend, Kendrick (kid that rocked my world) had sex...in the basement of his parent's house.
Wasn't the most ideal way of losing it. But he got the job done. He was attentive, and honestly, the best I've ever had. Well, the only I've had.
But he doesn't like him. Really funny, considering the fact that my boyfriend was his best friend. Even funnier, considering the fact that he was the one that put us together in the first place. I remember that conversation vividly, when Drake drunkenly stated that my life was lacking color.
His eyelids lower, and for a second, I wondered if they did because of the weight of his eyelashes, but that would be an exaggeration. He had some killer lashes, though. His lips parted as his pretty eyes connected with mine, but he quickly closed his mouth again.
I don't know how long we just sat (laying down, for me) there, staring at each other with a thick tension filling the room, but we sat...until he spoke. "I'm sorry," it was a quiet whisper, but the raw emotion within it was loud and clear for me.
"It's okay—"
"It's not okay," he cut off the words I managed to rasp out. I clear my throat, not liking how my voice sounded. "I...it's not okay, Lily..." his lips were moving, most likely explaining to me why what he did to me within our first few moments of seeing meeting each other again was not okay, but my hearing seemed to have turned off.
Lily.
He called me Lily.
And that sent me back. So far back that tears sprang my eyes, and my heart aches so bad I could feel it in my fingertips—Lily. I remember it. I remember all the different times he's said my name.
"Lily, give it back!"
"God, Lily, you're so stupid."
"Lily!"
"Lily, there's a time to laugh with me, and there's a time to be serious. You determine how I want you to respond."
"Liliana, Little Lils, Lily, I don't give a fuck. Enjoy my nicknames or suck my dick."
I bit my lip to halt the upcoming tears that threatened to fall. I would not cry. "You scared me," he whispered, still keeping his distance from me, though his eyes made me feel as if he was much closer. "The fall looked worse than the reality. You only sprained your ankle, but I was scared as fuck. I shouldn't have yelled at you. I'm sorry."
"It's okay, Rey." The nickname just rolled off of my tongue, and he flinched as if I had slapped him across the face. "I mean," I tried to cover it up, but he shook his head, a small smile forming on his lips.
How was he able to see me fall?
Where did he come from?
The door opened, and a doctor with a big smile on his face came strutting through. "Ah, Ms. Liliana, how are you feeling?" He maneuvered around Drake, getting extremely close to me, practically leaning over the bed as he checked my eyes with a bright light.
"Pretty okay," I blinked after he leaned back so that I could see him properly.
"Wonderful! Whenever I come in, a patient's face always pales a bit, but don't worry, I bring good news. You are officially discharged. You had us nervous when you went into that mild coma, but it was only shock from that trauma. Your body wasn't expecting to land on a car." He chuckled, taking some papers off of a clipboard and showing them to me.
"You only sprained your ankle, you lucky duck." He smiles, flipping through the pages before landing on one he wanted to show to me. "The only thing I want you to do is RICE. Say it with me—"
"Rice." We say simultaneously, followed by the doctor giving me praise for saying the word correctly.
"Rest. Ice. Compression. Elevation. We need to do this to ensure you don't have any major swelling going on, and to catalyze that healing. You're a dancer, correct?" He tilts his head up enthusiastically, waiting for the answer, even though I'm sure he already knows it.
"Yes."
"Wonderful! This is exactly why you need to take this seriously," his facial expression changed so quickly, my heart rate jumped, causing the machine to snitch on me again. "Don't try and jump back up and dance on that foot. I will not be happy. I'm not going to prescribe you anything, but if you feel some discomfort or pain you can always ice and take some Tylenol to help dim it down, okay?"
"Okay."
"Wonderful! I'm going to have a nurse wrap you up, and give you some crutches to help you walk for now, and you are free to leave whenever." He beams, handing me the papers.
"Thank you." It came out as a question because I was so transfixed by his demeanor.
"You're very welcome. Do you have any questions for me before Nurse Krause comes in to wrap that foot?" He, once again, tilted his head up as he waited for my response.
I shook my head, and my eyes wandered over to Drake's lips as he mouthed the word 'wonderful' while the doctor exclaimed it for the fourth time in three minutes.
When the doctor left the room, Drake and I made eye contact before laughing lightly.
|||
"Lily!" Luka calls from downstairs, "Come get your boyfriend before I introduce him to my right hook."
"Calm down, jailbird, I'm coming!" I grunt, snatching the blankets off of myself and jumping out of bed. "Fuck!" Immediately falling to the floor, clutching my ankle, I sink my teeth into my lip so deep that I end up piercing the soft skin. For only a sprain, this really hurt. I softly cursed before hobbling up, trying my hardest to ignore the throbbing of my poor, poor ankle. Luckily, my crutches were right beside my bed.
I might have pretty great (is it really great?) balance, but one thing I could not do was crutch down the steps. So I had to rely on my left foot to get me all the way down. Hopping off of the last step, I hold my crutches above my head in celebration. "I did it!" I toss them onto the floor, the metal-ish material clanking against each other. I don't need this shit. I'm freaking invincible.
Luka was the only one downstairs, clapping slowly with a bored look on his face. "Congratulations, Lily. You made it. Five minutes after I called you, but you made it nonetheless."
With that, he heads to the kitchen, pushing open the doors, which revealed laughter before swinging back closed softly. I guess there were more people downstairs than I thought. Turning around, I was met with dark brown eyes staring at me kindly, and a crooked smile. "Hey," he said boldly, but softly, as if he were seeing me for the first time in months.
"Hell—" before I could finish my sentence, I was embraced. My body relaxed in his safe arms as he gripped me tightly. My eyes closed on their own as my fingers found themselves in his blonde hair, platinum blonde hair. He was one of those natural boys. When we pulled back, I grinned. "Hi."
"How—"
"Lily! Bring your ass here! We need a smart one!" Papa calls from the kitchen, I'm assuming. This is followed by a feminine curse; my mom cursing him out in Spanish. He could only mutter back Italian in response to her abuse.
I grab Kendrick's hand, pulling him with me into the kitchen, where I'm met with a sight that took me back a few years. Luka was sitting on the island, reaching for some bacon from a pile that sat on a plate. My mom slapped his hand with a wooden spoon, causing him to curse. Livia was sitting on one of the stools next to Luka's legs, and Drake had his arm thrown across her shoulder. That made me narrow my eyes.
He must've done something to get back into my father's good graces. Or my mom just persuaded Papa to be nice. It was probably the latter. Papa's leaning on the counter by the stove, holding a beer bottle that wasn't even halfway gone. My mother is by his side, the hand that wasn't holding his beer was on her hip. She was glaring at him, but her eyes were shining with love. "Babydoll."
My eyes glance up at my dad who is giving Luka a smug look. "Who was that girl that he used to always try and impress?"
"Oh my God, Papa—" Luka starts just as I was about to tell on him.
"—Interrupt again and I'll show you God when I knock the shit—" Papa interjects.
"—Don't use God's name in vain, Alessandro." My mother finishes, patting my father on his thigh. He rolls his eyes. We don't really go to church, but there's some things my mother wants us to know 'just in case Jesus comes back' and we have to ask for forgiveness to save us from eternal damnation.
"It was his little lab partner, Joana." I grin, remembering the look on Luka's face. He was paler than a kid getting caught stealing liquor from a store that night.
"So answer this. Does it or does it not make you a suck up when you try and impress a girl by downing a large milkshake when you're lactose intolerant?"
Everyone started laughing while Luka was attempting to conceal his smile after Livia made fun of the fact that he was on the toilet like clockwork. "...I'm knocking on the door at three in the morning like, 'Luka! Did you fall in?' and all I get is," she starts grunting and groaning, "'Fuck off, Liv.'"
I grinned as Drake looked down on her, chuckling at her words. Luka is a woman pleaser. He'd do anything to make a girl like him. You like dancers? He'll learn. Singers? Give him a guitar. Nerds? He's already super fucking smart, so there's your guy. "Okay, laugh your asses off. I got her number for chugging down dairy." He defends himself.
"You're an idiot." Livia sums up before breaking the piece of bacon he had in his hand, and eating it for herself.
"Kendrick? Sweetheart, did you want some breakfast?" My mother offers, causing the entire kitchen to turn to him. I had forgotten he was standing behind me for a second. He looked up from his phone innocently, and gave my mother a smile as blush made its way to his cheeks. I roll my eyes. Kendrick never blushes.
"Nah, my mom fed me—well..." he seems to change his mind when my mom rose an eyebrow, "Yeah, I'll eat."
"Great, have a seat." She points to an empty chair beside Livia. He bends down to kiss my cheek before sitting next to my sister, fist bumping her with a friendly smile.
"Hey, little sis." His grin becomes wider when she gives him a forced one. He's always playing on her age, even though she's sixteen. Livia is always trying to prove her age and maturity, though she's far from mature. In most ways, she far from mature, at least.
Breakfast didn't turn into complete dog shit, surprisingly. I just knew my father was going to give Drake a black eye, but breakfast was just like it was any other day. It was filled with laughter and conversation.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.
Welcome back, Drake.
___
I hope I'm back...for good. Wash those hands, y'all!