He Says He's Just A Friend

Chapter 43 - Everybody Hurts

- Clay -

I bolted from the car the moment Dad got it parked, speed walking toward the hospital entrance. My skin buzzed with the anticipation of seeing Emmett. Kissing Emmett. Visiting hours started thirty minutes ago, but Dad refused to speed up to get there any faster. He reminded me about yesterday's events. "You've already been in one accident this week. Let's not make it two."

My leg bounced the entire drive over. I tapped my fingernails on the door until Dad commanded me to stop.

I couldn't recall ever being this excited about something. When I tried to take a deep breath, it caused pain, and I groaned with the effort. I pressed a hand to the edge of my bruises, pausing until the pain subsided.

"Would you slow down?" Dad called out in the distance. "You're going to hurt yourself."

"I'm fine." I waved off his concern and started walking again.

A tall, well-built Black guy walked through the doors, heading in my direction, head down, the brim of a baseball cap covering his face. He had his hands stuffed into the pockets of a letterman jacket in my school's colors—scarlet and black. I was more concerned with the jacket than I was the wearer, wondering why anyone would wear that on a hot day. It was still early, yet the temperature was at a boiling point, making me break into a sweat just from my short jog from the car.

I felt an ache in my chest—not from my wounds—when the jacket's owner lifted his head to reveal his face.

"Duke?"

What was he doing here? Did he get hurt, too? I wondered what kind of scar he'd be showing off at the next group excursion.

Duke glanced up. His jaw muscles tightened as a deep frown pulled down the corners of his mouth. "You're the one he's fucking, aren't you?"

That's when it hit me. Duke came to see Emmett. They were a thing. I totally forgot about that in the bliss of finally being with Emmett.

I raised my hands defensively. "I'm sorry, dude. I didn't mean for this to happen. I just fell in love with him."

Duke didn't seem to like that. He closed the gap between us in a blur, reminding me why he was such a great quarterback. He was six-foot-three and the fastest guy on the football team. His teammates called him The Flash.

Duke seized my shirt in his fists and slammed my back against a pillar.

I howled as the impact sent ripples of pain through my torso. My stomach turned from the intensity of it. If Duke wasn't careful, he would get a face full of puke.

But Duke didn't stop at shoving. He threw a punch to my stomach, doubling the pain and nausea. Thank God I hadn't eaten yet or I would've tossed it onto his shoes.

"Hey!" Dad screamed. He sounded winded. He must've started running when Duke grabbed me. "Get away from him."

When Duke released his hold on my shirt, I doubled over, hugging my abdomen. The only thing keeping me upright was the column behind me.

I heard the scuff of tennis shoes on pavement as Duke ran away.

Tiny dots of wetness discolored the pavement at my feet. I thought it had started raining until I realized I was crying from the pain.

Dad wrapped his arms around me and helped me over to a nearby bench. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, though I didn't think I was. My ragged breathing made it even worse. "Oh, fuck!"

Realizing what I just said, my eyes jumped to my dad. "Sorry."

"Say whatever you need to, kid." He smoothed his hand over my hair. "What was that all about? Wasn't that Duke?"