"So what, now we're going to live together?" Jamie takes another step towards me. "That's your idea of a good plan?"
Unwilling to back down, I poke a finger at his chest. "This is my family's house. Not yours. I have every right to be here."
"Newsfl...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
When I come to, it feels like there’s a mountain on my chest. I’m having trouble breathing, and coherent thought is gone because my head is clearly being split in two by some maniac with an axe. All I can think is, ow, ow, ow.
Then, like a miracle, the mountain is gone. I open my eyes and take in a big, gasping breath. The ceiling over my head is spinning. Somewhere in there, I think I see Jamie’s face.
Am I dead? Is this hell?
“You’re not dead,” he says, and I realize I may have spoken that thought out loud. Is it my imagination, or does he sound relieved?
“Sorry to disappoint.” The words come out as a wheeze. Why is it so painfully bright in here? My eyes squeeze shut.
“Hey, don’t do that.” Jamie taps my cheek a little more firmly than the situation calls for. “Stay awake.”
“‘m not sleeping,” I mumble. “Can you stop shining that in my face?”
“Lissa, that’s the sun. I may look like a Greek god, but I can’t actually control the forces of nature.”
This last comment is so ridiculous I have to open my eyes to glare at him. His mouth is quirked at the edge, the way it does when he thinks I’m funny but doesn’t want to laugh because he’s mad at me.
“Better. Now listen, I’ve got to get you in my truck so I can take you to the hospital, but I’m going to carry you in case you have a concussion.”
“I bet you use that line on all the girls.”
“Just the ones stupid enough to try and hang a hundred pound punching bag by themselves.” His arms slide under me, one by my knees and the other by my shoulders. “Hold on to my neck. If you close your eyes I’m going to let your head bang into the doorframe.”
“What a charmer.” I'd hit him but I don’t have the strength. I barely manage to lock my hands behind his neck like he said. When he lifts me, I’m overcome with a wave of nausea. My head drops against him, so my nose is pressed right to the hollow of his throat, and I’m too occupied with trying not to throw up to do anything about it.
Jamie starts walking like he’s carrying a scrawny five year old instead of my well developed self. I may be short, but I have a lot of jiggly parts, and I have to squeeze to fit into size 8 jeans. Yet Jamie doesn’t even sound a little labored when he says, “I’m glad you’re not dead, because now I can kill you myself.”
“Stop flirting with me. You’re embarrassing yourself.” I’m pretty sure the head banging thing was an empty threat, but I keep my eyes open and focused on a paint stain on his t-shirt just in case.
“Are you actually insane?” he fumes. “You can’t do stuff like this on your own. What if I hadn’t been downstairs? You could’ve suffocated under there!”
