Cuts and Bruises

Chapter Twenty Three

Aand I'm back. It's a short one but enjoy :)
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By Tuesday afternoon, I was beginning to feel the consequences of the 6 AM practice. After passing out for a little while before my classes, and then somehow getting myself out of bed and into them, I was struggling to stay awake in my seat. Every few seconds, I slumped further in my chair, until someone nearby made a noise that jolted my head forward and eyes open.

I somehow stuck it out for my only two classes of the day and was out by two thirty, although the few hours felt like a lifetime. I packed up my things at half speed before heading out of the academic hall, and then felt my backpack begin to vibrate.

"Shit," I muttered to myself when I realized I packed my phone in the bag.

I moved out of the entrance and toward the ledge of the stairs so I could dig for my incessantly vibrating cellphone. By the time I reach it, the phone call gets sent to voicemail, but I see mom sprawled across the screen as the call drops.

I zip my bag back up and start walking down the front steps as I fiddle with my phone to call her back. My phone buzzes in my hands before I can press call, and I see my mom decided to text me whatever she wanted to say instead.

Danny's surgery has been scheduled for Saturday morning. Will you be home yet?

I stare at the phone and slowly stop walking once I reach the bottom step. It takes me a moment to process this news and my mind flashes between the thought of Danny in his hospital bed to Vincent talking about his dad doing the surgery for free.

After a moment, I regain my composure and text her back: I'll drive home Friday. Is Vincent's dad his surgeon?

I let out a breath and start walking toward the radio station for my shift, my mind newly awake. The news had jolted me and I anxiously clutched my phone as I awaited a text back, my mind reeling about Danny. This surgery could mean the end of his cancer.

My anxious waiting was interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice saying my name, but unlike last time when he was seething, Vincent sounded tentative. "Lily?"

Half grateful for any distraction, I turned around to face the culprit. Upon seeing Vincent's face did I realize that he had never texted me when I had fallen asleep after practice, even though I could see him typing for minutes. I narrow my eyes when my gaze falls on him defensively, although I wasn't in the mood to be angry with him.

"I can't stay and chat," I tell him point-blank. "I'm walking to work."

He was still a few yards away when I tell him this, so I promptly turn around and continue walking, suddenly remembering the hurt in the pit of my stomach when Vincent had told me to get out of his way earlier.

"I'll walk with you," Vincent offers, his voice sounding much closer, and I turn a little to see he's jogging to catch up to me.

I don't reply, or say anything when he finally returns to a normal pace beside me. Between his outright rude attitude this morning and the news my mom had just dropped on me, I wasn't in the mood to talk unless he was apologizing. And, luckily, my dreams came true.

"I'm sorry about earlier," He says immediately, almost like he could read my mind. "I shouldn't have acted like such an ass."

"Then why did you?" I question, my gaze still not meeting his.

Vincent sighs, and I glance out of my peripheral vision to see him wring his hands nervously. "I didn't expect my first practice back to go like that and I was frustrated with myself."