The Bad Boy Kissed Me *ON HOLD*

Reese's Pieces

I'm in Gabe's room.

If I had a best friend, I'd run to the bathroom and text to ask what I do because he won't let me go home alone. He started walking me to my house, asking if I had a first aid kit, when I stopped him and pointed at the doorbell camera.

At first, he'd gotten that empty look he's so good at, and I realized again he thought I might think badly of him. So I balled my hand in his shirt the same way he'd done to get me on his bike and asked to go to his house; otherwise, he'd be getting a visit from my dad.

His gaze slid down to my hand, and he smirked, covering it with his and saying he could take on my dad. Then he chuckled and took me to his house.

No one is home, thankfully, but I'm a nervous wreck. What should I do? He said he wouldn't let me sleep alone because he was worried the nurse lied about me not needing a doctor.

Then he dropped a surprise. His dad is an emergency room doctor, and he's Facetiming him right now.

"Fucking hell, Dad. No, I didn't hit her. You can ask her what happened." He's carrying a first aid kit, chuckling as he turns the phone for me to see his dad. "He thinks I've kidnapped you."

"Goodness," Mr. Christos says, eyes wide. "Sweetheart, how did this happen?"

The image of my face makes me want to walk out and go live in the woods. My nose is red and swollen at the bridge of my nose. Thankfully, the tip of my nose is only red. My eyelids and under my eyes are deep purples and pinks, the right one swelling, but I can still open it.

"Um," I mumble, taking the phone from Gabe when he shakes it and guides me to his bed. "A group of girls attacked me. It's not Gabe's fault."

Mr. Christos sighs. "And your parents are out of town?"

"Yes, sir." I glare at Gabe when he scoffs. "Shut up, I have manners."

Mr. Christos chuckles as Gabe frowns, but my bad boy is digging through the kit.

"All right," his dad says. "I get off my shift at seven. I'll head straight home to check you out myself. Gabe can bring you in if you want, though. I can have an exam room ready."

"No." I shake my head, cringing from the sharp pain; I need to stop doing that. "I think it's okay. It was just one kick."

"That's all you need sometimes." He sighs again, searching my face. "Any dizziness, blurred vision, nausea?"

"Not exactly," I say. "It hurts when I move too fast, and my ears rang when the teacher made a loud noise, but I just feel like I have a stuffy nose, my skin feels tight, and I have a pretty bad headache. Vision is fine; it's just that my eye is making it a little hard to open."

"All right. Did they hit you anywhere else?"

I tell him the full breakdown of what happened as I know it, and Gabe stares at me the whole time with that blank expression. I don't feel unnerved by it, though. He's paying attention, I realize.

Mr. Christos instructs Gabe which items to use—ice pack only—and which painkillers I can take. Then he tells me to stay at their home with Gabe. He promises to be home as soon as possible but issues a reminder that we can come to the hospital if, at any point, I feel worse or become less responsive.

"I look so bad," I say after lying on Gabe's bed. He doesn't want me anywhere else in the house in case his stepmother comes home.

He sits next to me, tugging the phone from my fingers. "Stop looking."

"I look like one of those video game fighters—when they show the loser all fucked up."

"I wasn't going to say so, but . . ." He chuckles at my scowl. "See? You can look worse."