The Summer Job | g.d

36 • Lily

36 • Lily

It was Lily. The girl that is friend with Ryan.

My heart doesn't slow down. It continues to pump at an accelerated pace. A pace in which I can feel it in my chest. Pounding against my ribcage. Causing my breathing to quicken.

I could feel a small bead of sweat rest on my forehead and if I had the mental energy I would swipe it away. But I have nothing.

I have never have to be in a situation like this before. One in which someone is in imminent danger. I have been told that she is fine multiple times. But something makes me weary.

I must have severe trust issues.

I continue to pace silently back and fourth. My eyes flicking between the door and the clock which had just struck ten past one in the morning.

My eyes are weepy and my bones aching. I just need some sleep. I have to be up tomorrow for a day of work but all I really want to do is sleep on forever.

But I need to make sure she is okay.

The door to her room eases open and Grayson walks out nodding softly. He walks over to me and tells me she is fine. For almost the tenth time.

"She's gonna be alright, just some water lodged in her lung, nothing a doctor can't fix," he says, rubbing my upper arm.

I have never had to be in a hospital setting. My grandparents on my mother's side passed away when I was just born, both of them about three weeks apart from each other.

It was meant to be. Those stories of people who are meant to be together.

And my grandparents on my father's sides both passed away in their sleep, almost exactly two years apart. One when I was seven, the other I was nine.

And Dad handled both of them, I just showed up at the funerals.

I could tell Grayson was confused at why I was so worried, but for the most part I found it a shock. We have just found a girl drowning in the ocean and we saved her.

If someone doesn't get a little shaken up by that then they must be a sociopath.

Grayson sits me down and he takes the seats beside me. The seats are plastic rubbish, the seats you would get in classrooms. The modern classrooms without the wooden desks.

"Hey, how did she know you?" Grayson blurts, coming out with the question straight away.

"Oh, what do you mean?" I squint, lying as I clearly know exactly what he is saying. I'm just very good at avoiding things.

"You know how she said your name when she was spurting up water on the beach," Grayson continues to push the point so I decide just to make something up.

He will never know.

"Oh, her," I nod stupidly, trying to sound as inconspicuous as possible (for the record, it didn't seem to work!) "We met on the beach a couple of days ago, we just exchanged numbers and stuff."

I nod, feeling quite proud of the lie that I just made it. It sounded pretty generic but my telling was believable.

And usually the most generic stories are the most believable.

Clichés are Clichés for a reason.

"That's not exactly what I heard."

My head suddenly snaps towards him and the blood is drained from me.

Did he just say what I thought?

I feel my face flush a deep red of embarrassment as I know that he knows exactly what I didn't want him to know.