"Does this feel real enough?" He grabbed my face delicately in his hands, the rain runs down our foreheads to where our lips meet, each of us tasting the cold drops.
Sparks flew in every direction, but instead of detracting from the intensity of th...
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Kennedy's P.O.V
MY EYES FLUTTERED open as a sharp pain in my neck erupted like a volcano.
I lifted my head from its awkward sleeping position and rubbed out the crook in my neck.
Looking down at my body, I was in a hospital bed, in nothing but a stiff white and blue spotted gown. I shifted myself up to a sitting position.
As I do this, my left leg feels heavy, heavier than normal. I peek under the sheet, a white cast envelops my leg, from knee to toe.
Last night flew back to me in pieces.
Caiden and I out in the rain. Me walking away. Picking up my car from home, I drove. Getting out at the beach. Grabbing my board from the backseat. The wind and rain eating me alive. I paddled out. I surfed. A massive wave crashed over me, the wind and impact pushing me off my board. The struggle. My lungs on fire. Another wave. Then another. And another. I hit a rock. Pain explodes through my leg. Blackness seeping in through the corners of my vision.
The surfing had felt good, I admit, I needed it. It's like nothing else matters when I'm riding a wave.
I knew it was utterly stupid to surf last night, it's common sense, but I had wanted to. I didn't think anything major would happen to me, I guess that part was kinda wrong.
Footsteps coming down the hallway outside the room, jolt me back into reality. My stomach grumbles, I hope someone's coming to give me the fattest burger on the planet.
The door pushes open and Caiden appears holding a bottle of water.
He stops and almost drops the bottle. "Your awake," he says, noting my upright position and watchful eyes.
My heart begins to ache at just the sight of him. I want to say, he can't be here, that I don't want him here. Instead, I settle for, "What are you doing here?"
His hair is messy, the curls untamed. My hand itches to run through it. Traitor. "How could I not be h-"
"Leave," I cut him off.
"Kennedy, I-"
"I want you to leave."
We stared at each other in an odd way, as if it were a silent argument. Our glances battled each other until he broke away.
"I know you don't want to see me." He stared at the floor, twisting the bottle around and around in his hands.
He looked up again, those hazel eyes meeting my vibrant green ones. "What I did was fucked up, and I wouldn't want to see me either but-"
