Two Birds, One Stone

13. Poor Player

v impressed with anyone who understands the title of this chapter

little note: a lot of people have guessed in previous chapters that Liam has seizures. His issue will be really obvious later, but I'll tell you now that it's not that or anything like it. Also, I wouldn't recommend trying to figure it out using the ticking in his head. That's a personal symptom inspired by a single real-life person's experience, not a widely held symptom of any disease or disorder.

this chapter is real short, so I'll try to update again soon (keyword = try)

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"I'm going with a couple of friends to this club off of Kenman Drive tonight," Stevie told me the next afternoon, pausing our intense Uno game to look up at me expectantly. "You wanna come?"

    I took advantage of her distraction and put a green six down over her blue nine; she took no notice. Smiling deviously at my little cheat, I said, "Uno. Yeah, sure. Is there an occasion?"

     She stared at me dryly, as if I was missing something obvious. When all I did in response was raise my eyebrows, she sighed and said, "You're so hopeless, bub."

     "What?" I laughed, and she rolled her eyes. "What is it?"

     "It's New Year's Eve, headass," she said, rolling her eyes. She absentmindedly placed down a card.

     "Never said I was smart, sis," I scoffed. "I'll go see if Jamie wants to come."

     I started to get up, but Stevie called out indignantly. "Wait! At least finish the game first!"

     "Oh, yeah." Not even glancing at the last card she'd put down, I tossed my final move — a wild card — onto the messy pile. "There," I said flippantly. "Finished."

     Stevie made a face. "You're an asshole," she said.

     "Hey, I won fair and square," I said, which was a complete lie and I felt absolutely no remorse for it. Smirking because I was an asshole, I left her on the couch and crossed to the door of her roommate's bedroom, still feeling way too smug and proud of myself as I stepped inside. Jamie was on the bed sitting cris-crossed with his back facing me, looking down at something. "Stevie and her friends are going clubbing tonight, you wanna come?"

     As I spoke, I noticed what Jamie was bent over: a large open textbook. "Are you . . . studying?" I chuckled disbelievingly, leaning back against the door with my hands in my pockets. "Jamie, you realize we're on vacation, right? Why the hell are you reading about . . . I squinted at the book, quickly recognizing its dark green color. "Anatomy?"

     Jamie didn't answer. My grin fell, and I pushed myself away from the door with my foot, stepping closer to the bed.

     "Someone's focused," I said, though I got the feeling he wasn't focused at all. I could feel his agitation from where I stood. He was upset. "Hey, everything okay?"

     I winced when the textbook suddenly slammed shut.

     Jamie's hands were trembling as he dragged them roughly through his hair — something he always did when he was stressed, I noticed.

    "No," his voice was thick. He slammed his palm down against the cover of the book with a sharp, quivering breath, then rolled his fingers into a fist. "I can't fucking do it."

     I wanted to step forward, to join him on the bed and put a hand on his back and make him feel better. But I still didn't know exactly where we stood. I didn't know what was overstepping when he was like this. So I stayed tentatively where I was, by the edge of the matters.