Three

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Chapter 3

The one with a baseball and med kit

"Lucky for you I happen to know what I'm doing."

•••

Peyton

You know when you just have this pounding headache? Where it gets to the point where you wish you could take off your head? Just remove the pain? That's exactly how it felt to get hit in the head with a baseball.

I never thought in my life that one day I would get hit with a baseball on my head. Even though it sounds extremely bad and it was. I mean you should've seen the bump, but reality was it was oddly the best thing to have happened to me. Odd huh? Let me just tell you why.

•••

It felt like someone was playing the drums with my brain. The pounding was so excruciating, my head just hurt. The exterior and interior of it anyways. The hard ground wasn't helping either when my body collided with it.

"Oh shit is she dead?" I heard someone say.

"No dumbass she got hit with a ball not shot." Another voice argued.

"Can you both be quiet, she's not dead. Just unconscious." Another voice said yet this one was much closer.

"Well she looks dead." The first voice said.

"Yeah and I bet we all look dead while sleeping." The second voice said sarcastically.

Their bickering wasn't helping my painful headache. I slowly opened my eyes and seen everything slightly blurry. I seen someone really close to me and honestly getting hit in the head didn't seem to be important anymore. Especially not when my vision focused on his hazel eyes.

"Okay hi, I am so sorry about your head which I assume hurts a lot." Was the first thing that came out of his mouth.

"No it feels fine." I said sarcastically.

"Really?" He asked.

I rolled my eyes, "No not really I was just hit in the head with a freaking baseball."

I attempted to sit up but he helped me, "Slowly."

I slowly lifted my hand to where I was hit, "Ow god this hurts like a bitch."

"I am so sorry, I couldn't control where the ball was going to go but I am so sorry." He told me.

"It's fine...I mean my heads not fine but I don't hold it against you since you've already apologized twice." I told him.

He nodded, "Yeah sorry about that."

"Three times. You can stop saying your sorry." I said with a slight laugh but only to realize it still hurt.

"Sorr- uh Matt can you go to my truck and get my bag?" He asked one of the guys that were around me.

"So which one is the one who thought I was dead?" I asked.

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