Cemtery Weather

One: Vic

"Fucking hell," I grumbled, cupping my right hand around my left, "Jaime, can you drive me to the hospital? I fucking cut my hand open on this god damned guitar case," I asked, eyeing the metal clip on my guitar case angrily.

Jaime chuckled and shook his head, "sure, but you need to be more careful, shit head."

"I know, I know," I sighed, getting into the passenger seat of the van. We sat in silence, save the radio, for the ten minute drive to the hospital.

"Want me to go in with you?" Jaime asked as he pulled the van to a stop.

I jumped out and shook my head, "nah man, I'll be fine. I'll call you when I get out."

"See ya!" Jaime waived and drove away.

Here goes nothing. I hate hospitals. They're just so weird. I mean in one room someone's life is being saved, and in the next someone is breathing their last breath. Hospitals just make me super uneasy.

"Hi, uhm, I think I need to get stitches or something," I mumbled, showing the receptionist lady my hand.

She cringed, "of course, all of our doctors are currently in surgery, so you'd have to wait a little longer," she explained.

"I can do it," another voice brought my gaze away from the receptionist's desk and to a beautiful girl standing in the doorway. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, and said, "I know how to do it, and the cut doesn't even look that bad."

The receptionist shrugged her shoulders and the cute girl with the glasses motioned me to follow her. I jogged to catch up with her. "Here," she pointed to a room and went to grab some stuff to sew me up I guess.

I sat down on the little bed thing and watched as she set up a tray of cleaning things and a needle and stitching stuff. Hey, I'm no good when it comes to medical terms ok. She turned her back on me to wash her hands in the sink, and I couldn't help but look her up and down. She had long legs, a perfect ass, a thin waist, what looked like b-cup tits, a slender neck, and the most beautiful face I've ever laid eyes on.

Her blonde hair was pulled into a tight bun on the back of her head, with a few slightly curled pieces falling in her face. Her eyes were pale gray, and huge. She had a quaint little button nose, and a smattering of freckles fell across her cheeks. She wasn't wearing makeup, but she definitely didn't need it.

"Hello?" She asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Huh?" I grunted, looking into her eyes.

She shook her head and let out a sigh, "did you hear a word I said?" She snapped.

"Uh, sorry, no I didn't..." I replied, feeling my cheeks heat up.

She frowned and explained to me what she was going to do and what I had to do to keep the stitches from popping and getting infected, "so that means no guitar for at least two weeks," she said sternly.

"How do you know I play guitar?" I asked curiously as she cleaned the blood from my hand to clearly see the wound.

She smiled and picked up the needle, "the callouses on your fingertips," she replied, "this might hurt a little bit," she added, pushing the needle through my skin.

"Fucking fuck," I hissed through my teeth, I was totally unprepared for the feeling of a needle and plastic thread stuff going through my hand.

"I told you it would hurt," she giggled, tying off the stitches, and wrapping gauze around my palm. "Don't forget to change the wrap every two hours, and keep your hands off of your guitar until next Sunday at the earliest," she smiled, patting my shoulder.

"Thanks, uh..." I paused, encouraging her to tell me her name.

"Keira," she stated flatly.

I smiled, "thanks, Keira." I stood and brushed my hands down my shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles and readjusted the backwards snap back that rested on my head before walking awkwardly back to the waiting room an called Jaime.

"Bro, I'm done... And I can't fucking play guitar for two weeks," I whined into the phone once he'd picked up.

"Whyyyy?" He whined right back, making me laugh.

"I could pop the stitches and shit... But hurry and come get me, I'm hungry as fuck," I growled.

"On my way, shit head!" He replied as I sat down on the curb to wait for Jaime.  

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

"So, what was it like getting your hand sewn up?" Jaime chuckled as I climbed into the van.

I stuck out my bottom lip and mumbled, "it fucking hurt," I pouted.

"You're such a baby," Jaime laughed.

"Shut the fuck up," I snapped, "but the nurse that stitched me up was cute as hell," I added, smiling.

"Was she?" Jaime raised his eyebrows.

I nodded, "yeah. Her name was Keira, god she was beautiful."

"Dude, you're drooling," Jaime smirked as we pulled into my driveway.

"She's definitely something to drool over ok," I laughed along with him and made my way into the house.

I flopped down on the couch and kicked my feet up onto the armrest. God. I couldn't get Keira out of my head. She was so gorgeous, and obviously blood didn't gross her out, she seemed like the perfect girl for me. Wow, I sound like a freaky stalker. But it's true. Ugh, I have to talk to her again.