It Started With A Concussion ✔️

Chapter 1

Never have I ever. Felt so stupid.

I mean I'm not one to brag. Well, maybe sometimes I am but that's not that point.

I've never failed anything. Well, maybe I haven't failed since that algebra test in tenth grade.

My point is, I shouldn't be here. Completely failing a concussion test.

I mean, I can't even recall the things the doctor told me to remember.

Elbow, apple, cuddle, bubble?

I don't know.

It's ridiculous.

One perfect throw. One perfect catch. Only to be ruined by one stupid boy.

It was only supposed to be a good for nothing long ball. All fun and games.

Until I ran into him.

And it looks like he's given me another fucking concussion. This is the second one he's given me this year.

And it only took me running into him to do it. How fucking lucky am I?

Let's just say I'm less than amused. I'm beyond pissed.

As if that couldn't be enough, the moment I stepped into my house I was tortured by the sound of his voice.

Why the fuck is he here?

I can probably blame Elliot for that. Those two are inseparable. Because if having him in my house isn't enough, living right across the street from him is definitely something else.

I kick off my shoes and think, god he's such an ass-

"Honey." My mom interrupts my thoughts. "Why don't you get some rest? It's pretty late and the doctor said to be careful around bright lights."

"Got it." I mumbled back to her.

But I wasn't heading upstairs just yet. Not without talking to him first. Or maybe yelling, I don't know.

I just know I'm fucking pissed off at him.

Walking towards the kitchen I keep my eyes on the floor, the lights too intense. With my head down, I dim the lights so I can finally, but still barely, look up.

I see him leaning against the island counter with his eyes on me. Something goes off in my brain and all I can think about is punching him. Or slapping him.

One of those two.

But I find myself doing something much different. "You're such a dick you know that?" I blurt out.

He lets out a laugh at this. "Firing insults already Em? A hello would be nice."

"Shut up." I argue, the want to roll my eyes cut short by the pounding in my head.

"Shut up." he mocks me, leaning off the counter.

My eyes narrow at him as my tongue pushes hard against the roof of my mouth.

He's fucking obnoxious.

"You know, you should really start trying to be nicer. Maybe the wrinkles on your forehead will go away if you stop scowling at me." he countered with a long and quite rude comment.

However, it's when he turns his head to the side that I become completely enraged at him.

He has hickeys. All down the side of his neck. Dark ones too.

I think I might murder him.

"Are you fucking serious Jackson?" I complain as I walk to the counter.