Summer Boy

33.Bandages

  "Chloe? Oh, shit, Chloe." His voice was still in my head. "I'm so sorry." My head was throbbing. There was blood, I could smell it. My senses had returned to me by then, a reassuring yet unwelcoming reality. I came to, opening my eyes and breathing a deep breath of fresh air.

  "Get lost," I heard Derick whisper to someone else. I couldn't see him, but I heard a shuffle of footsteps and someone's hands lifting me to my feet. Derick was holding me, Damien scowling at him from my left.

  "D...Did you hit me?" I asked incredulously. In front of me was his shiny black Maserati, parked in an awkward spot right in front of where I fell.

  "Babe, I am so sorry." he apologized, holding me tight. Damien came toward us, looking at me tentatively. "You ran right out in front of my car."

  "Chloe, how are you feeling?" Damien asked me, inspecting my injuries. Derick glared in his direction.

  "How do you think she's feeling, dickwad?" Derick spat, narrowing his glossy eyes.

  "I'm not the one who hit her, asshole." Damien fought back, equally as harsh. "Chloe, listen to me. Does your head hurt?" he asked.

  "Mhm," I mumbled, nodding, which turned out to be a painful mistake. If Derick wasn't there holding me up, I would have been swaying where I stood. I reached my fingers back and felt warm glue coating my hair. I glanced at my fingers, and they were stained deep red. "I'm bleeding." I said, holding my hand out to Damien.

  "Are you dizzy?" he asked, ready to brace me if I fell. I nodded again, fighting the urge to close my eyes and sleep.

  "What are you, a doctor?" Derick asked sarcastically. Damien ignored him, focused on me.

  "You have to stay awake, Chloe." he ordered, keeping my eyes fastened on him. "Do you feel like you're going to throw up?"

  "No," I said. "Just a little sleepy." I wanted to be in my bed, head on my feather pillows, wrapped in my down comforter.

  "We need to take her to the hospital." Derick insisted. I immediatly shook my head in protest.

  "You can't!" I pleaded anxiously. "I'm not going to the hospital again. My parents will find out." I begged. A second trip to the hospital was definitely out.

  "I can take care of her." Damien suggested, eyeing Derick. "My mom's an RN. I know how to treat a concussion. Her's isn't even bad." he said reasoningly. It ticked my memory of freshman year when I fell off his porch and his mom bandaged my leg before they brought me to the hospital.

  "No way." Derick said stubbornly, holding me tighter.

  "Listen," Damien said. I could tell he was trying to reason with him on a level of understanding. "she can't go to the hospital. Just let me take her home so she can lie in her own bed and I can get some ice on her head."

  Derick seemed to take the time to think about it. I wanted to interrupt, to say what I wanted to do, but Derick made up his mind and spoke before I could. "Fine." he said. I looked up in surprise, staring at the day old blonde scratchies on his well-defined jaw.

  Damien nodded, and reached out to take me. "Where's your car? I'll take her there." Derick said. He swiftly scooped me up, carrying me like a child cradled in his arms.

  "We took her car." Damien said hesitantly. I was thinking how I was going to explain being out with Damien, and not the girls like I said I was. I quickly fabricated a lie, just to be ready. Damien lead us to where I was parked, my shiny red sports car gleaming in the dark. Derick set me down easily, on my feet. I managed to stay still, and, resting my hand on the car, I made my way to the door.

  Damien opened it for me, and with his help I slid into the car. I made sure to watch my head so I wouldn't hit it on anything, and when I was all in, Damien shut the door. Him and Derick stood outside for a few minutes, leaving me in the car by myself to think.

  "Hey," Damien sighed, sliding into the driver's seat. I looked at him unexpectedly. He looked a little miffed, a slight bit annoyed, but at least he wasn't angry. Derick walked away from the car, gathering a steady jog back to where his car was parked.

  "What did you talk about?" I asked curiously. My head still throbbed, but the dizziness had subsided. I was able to concentrate on what had happened in the last hour.

  "He wanted to know why you were out with me instead of the girls like you said." he explained, digging through my purse for the car keys. I felt a sense of relief even though I hadn't yet realized I hadn't picked up my pocketbook from the ground after my fall. Damien was smart to bring it.

  "What did you tell him?" I asked anxiously.

  "Calm down, concussion." he said, starting the engine. "I told him I was coming to pick you up because you didn't want to drive home. I think he got what I was meaning to say." he said calmly. As we peeled out of the tight parking space, I let my head rest againt the leather cushion while racking my brain for anymore loose strings.

  "Why was Derick here, anyway?" I asked curiously. It couldn't have been pure coincidence, could it?

  "He said he was meeting his sister. She's in town for the weekend, or something. I don't know." he said carelessly, concentrating on the set of lights changing in front of us. The car slowed to smooth stop, and I let my eyes drift shut, but jerked awake again when the light changed to green and Damien floored the gas pedal.

  "Damien!" I yelled, a knee-jerk reaction to being woken so abruptly.

  "Sorry," he mumbled. His hands were gripping the wheel so hard the tendons were jutting out under the layer of skin. His breathing was deep and concentrated, and his facial expression held a certain hostility to it.

  "What's wrong?" I asked immediatly, sensing his discomfort.

  "Nothing." he said quietly. The tone, in his voice made me think twice about asking him again. He pursed his lips, but made a strong effort to relax his face. He turned toward me, smiling on the surface. "Try to relax, Chlo. We'll be home soon." he said soothingly, his hand reaching out to pat my shoulder.

  I woke up dazedly as we were pulling in to the driveway. Damien reached over to unbuckle my seatbelt before getting out on his side and coming over to open my door for me. He helped me out as I sleepily stumbled up the stairs to the porch, and before I knew it, I was in my bedroom.

  He helped me get out of my clothes and put on soft pajamas, looking away modestly as I changed. I thanked him again and again. He tucked me in to bed with a glass of water from the upstairs bathroom and handed me some Tylenol for my headache. As I was slipping in and out of sleep, the last thing I could feel was my head being bandaged lightly at the flesh wound before I snuggled up into the crook of his neck and fell into a deep sleep.