Forever Could Be Ours

Chapter 15. | Cake Charity

HAYLEIGH

Walking around in a house full of stairs with crutches? Actual life crisis.

Going to the bathroom feels like running a marathon. If I need a glass of water, I have to fill a bottle and carry it between my teeth. I can't imagine someone going through surgery and having to walk with these for weeks.

It's a nightmare just using them for a few days.

Compared to the fact my ankle blends in with Neptune and can go unnoticeable on a telescope, it feels alright. It hurts, sure, but I've had period cramps more painful than this.

Alexander tried adjusting the crutches to my height from the guide, but I think it would have been easier with children's crutches. Walking with these makes me taller by at least 3 centimeters, and my feet barely touch the ground.

Crutches make every tiny action unmanageable and when three books fall out of my locker, I stare at them for a minute wondering whether or not they're important enough to lean down and put them back where they belong.

"Here," Dylan shuts his locker and leans down to grab the books. "Let me get them."

"Dylan Williams being nice. Should I write this down somewhere for future evidence?"

He seems to take my question as a joke as he smiles. "You seem to be in recovery already. Heard you slipped?"

I return the smile when he kindly places the books back in my locker. "Yeah. Didn't see the puddle and the back of my neck wanted to kiss the bathroom tiles. It's just a sprained ankle, I'm thinking of dropping off the crutches tomorrow."

"Prince Alfred's?" He asks and I nod with a hint of scepticism as he continues. "I spent my entire Saturday night at the emergency room. Jake acted out on a rival. We're both benched - him for starting the fight and me for trying to finish it."

As he continues talking my mind tries to come up with whatever excuse I need to come up with if he asks–

"–I think I saw you right before you got wheeled to radiology."

Shit.

"... I wasn't sure if it was you, she was wearing a USYD hoodie. Same hair color, body frame, and was wheeled out by a tall guy."

Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.

"Yes, that was me," I have no idea why I'm being honest, damage control maybe?

"I got the USYD shirt at their open house arrangement and my dad took me to the emergency room." I sound like a talking parrot but if he buys it, buy me a cage and call me Gizmo.

"Really?" He asks with an arched brow. "Because your dad's car wasn't there when I got back from the emergency room."

"Look at you being a stalker," My voice may sound calm and collected but on the inside, I'm screaming. My heart is pounding so violently that my loose shirt vibrates with each beat. "His car was parked in the garage. Mom was out on a weekend trip."

I need an award for thinking this fast and coming up with solid answers. It's unsettling how he knows my parents' parking patterns but there is some truth to my twisted lies.

Mom was out – which meant the garage was free.

"I see," Dylan nods and silence falls upon us. He leans his body against the lockers and a nervous expression scatters across his defined face. "You got a second to talk about something?"

"I'm already standing here."

"Right," He laughs nervously, fiddling with his hands as he finds the right words to say.