Gym Class Love [Book 1]

If I'm In An Airport and You're In A Hospital Bed

Mr. Way's P.O.V

I was currently sitting at home. Well, sitting wasn't really the term for it. It was more like laying in a half fetal position on my couch. I wasn't even that sad anymore. I mean I did cry, but I was now more numb than anything. What was I upset about? Well, Dobson had things he wanted to say to me earlier today.

*flashback*-------------------------------

I was hurt. He had been avoiding me forever and now that he finally talks to me, he won't let me hug him. I was about to say something when he turned around and took another breath. "We can't do this anymore. I can't do this anymore. I'm not sure if its me or him that you love. I'm sorry, but I just don't want to be putting myself fully into this when you're thinking about him." he said weak at first then stronger. It took me a second to register that he was breaking up with me. I wanted to tell him no, to stay, that I needed him, but the words never came. He looked at me one last sorrowful time and walked away. I watched him go.

*End*--------------------------------------

That's where I'm at now, the corner of broken and hearted streets. I was flipping through news channels when all of a sudden this horrible car wreck came on my television, but that's not what made me stop. Not even that picture of the little girl and mother. It was the picture of a twenty-eight year old man. "Jesse?" I asked, testing out the word to get a sense of familiarity about it. Son of a bitch. I quickly turned the t.v. up and maxed the volume. "-a head on collision with Mrs.Ferguson and her car. Jesse Young, the driver of the other vehicle is said to be in serious condition at Mercy Hospital. No word on the mother and her young child. Sleep deprivation is said to be the cause of the accident." the news anchor was reporting. I was already out of my front door and in my car by the time the broadcast on the accident was over. I needed to get to Jesse he was in a hospital bed, possibly dying, with the belief that this was all his fault. How did I know this? Jesse's a nice guy, that's how. I hurried to the hospital a few hours away and asked the receptionist his room number. I was told he had just been released from surgery and it would be a while before anyone could see him by the doctor standing by his door. To hell with that. I shoved past the doctor and flung the door open. Only to be greeted by the sight of a small bodied Jesse Young laying among all of these tubes and wires but that wasn't even the scariest part. On the wall beside his bed was a sign that read in big letters, WARNING COMATOSE PATIENT. I felt my knees buckle and the tears flow.

AN-next one is Jesse's