ᴛʜᴇʏ Sᴀʏ Sʜᴇ'ꜱ Fʀᴏᴍ ᴄᴏʀᴏɴᴀ ! 【Ryan Atwood】

5

TIRED, SPENT, AND BEATEN DOWN. Those were the only words Hazel could meld together to articulate exactly how terrible she felt sorely walking into the Cohen's pool house. Her wrists and the knuckles on her right hand were bruised, and there were scratches on her knees from landing into the sand with such force. Yet, her injuries were far less severe than that of Seth or Ryan. Both boys sported a black eye on alternate sides of each other's faces. Hazel could only assume the bruises on their bodies were just as bad, if not worse.

The disheveled trio wordlessly plopped down onto the furniture, Seth on the couch, and the other two on the bed. Ryan winched as his body met the mattress, but he continued his motions, working to take off his tie.

"Well...I don't know what to say," Seth spoke, "except that you two totally had my back out there." The other teens turned to him. "We're like in a fight club or something. I don't know. You know what I think? Ryan, I think that if you were to teach me some moves—and Hazel, that right hook was insane! I need to know your secret!"

Hazel side-eyed the Cohen boy, unimpressed with how much satisfaction he was taking from the situation. The crew had undoubtedly gotten their asses handed to them.

Ryan easily ignored the teen when he began to imitate fight kicks and instead, the blond slowly removed his dress shirt leaving him in just his wife beater. Hazel's eyes maneuvered up and down his muscular bicep until she caught herself; she looked down at her lap, feeling her cheeks grow hot.

"What do you think about that?" Seth continued. By then the Michaels girl had fully checked out, concluding that drunk Seth had nothing but nonsense to spew.

Hazel didn't even know what time it was. She thought back to the start of her day, retracing her steps in an attempt to understand how she'd gotten to be where she was now. The girl's clothes felt tight and uncomfortable now that she had a moment to breathe; she shrugged Ryan's jacket off, suddenly feeling too hot to wear it. She wanted nothing more than to throw on some pajamas and jump into her bed, but unfortunately, this room was not hers, nor was she anywhere near her familiar territory.

The Michaels girl was drawn back to reality at the mention of her best friend.

"...but, I am now on her radar—do you think I should tell her about Tahiti? Do you?"

Ryan quietly chuckled, "Not yet."

"That's what I thought. Hazel, any opposing thoughts? At all?"

"No," the curly-haired girl deadpanned, despite not knowing the full context. She didn't want it either; Hazel was sure whatever the boy had said would worsen her headache.

"That's what I thought! No see—that's what I was thinking! I wanted to make sure, like, we were all on the same page."

Hazel shook her head, a dubious chuckle releasing past her lips. "Seth. I need you to stop talking. "

"But I wa—"

"Zip it," the girl interrupted. "Lay down, close your eyes, and go to sleep."

Seth's head bobbed side to side. "You know, the only person that bosses me around like that is my mother, and even then, I don't always lis—"

Hazel gave the boy a pointed look, her eyebrows raising slightly to accompany her stern demeanor.

"Oh wow, I am feeling this crazy wave of exhaustion, and...it's, like, overtaking me." The Cohen let out a fake yawn as he began to cuddle into the cushions of the pool house couch. Ryan glanced between the two in amusement, a slight snicker escaping his lips; his eyes lingered on Hazel for several seconds longer, scanning her face for scratches or bruises. The plump apples of her cheeks were still slightly flushed from the night air and her hair was unkempt, unlike it was at the beginning of the night. He's soon pulled from this reverie by Seth's next words.