Messages on a Coffee Cup

Chapter 18

   "My car wouldn't start and I was worried about you so I ran here and got you Starbucks to make you feel better."

    He limped towards me and handed me a cold caramel flan. 

   "Shitload of whipped cream?" I asked.

   "Shitload of whipped cream." he confirmed with a smile.

   "Whoa man. And what happened to your leg?" Cameron asked pointing to his left ankle.

   "Oh, it's nothing. I kinda fucked it up a bit on the way here. Don't worry about it."

   Just as he said that, the doctor walked in to our cubicle.

   "Hey doc," I said, my hand still burning in pain, "Can you get that guy some help. He messed up his left ankle pretty bad."

   The doctor nodded at me and called a nurse to take Ethan away to another cubicle.

   "Hey! I'm fine! I don't need help! I'm supposed to be with her," he yelled as she attempted to guide him to care room number

three.

   "Go on Abrams, you'll thank me later!"

   He finally gave in and let the nurse take him away leaving Kim, Cameron, and I waiting for someone to sew my hand up. Finally, another damned doctor walked in and assessed the damage.

   "Well, you're definitely going to need stitches. Luckily I have a numbing agent. You might feel a  slight pain but it should heal up pretty fast after we put the stitches  in."

   He began to disinfect my hand and injected the not-so-effective 

numbing serum. In a method of distraction, I decided to confront Kim and Cameron.

   "Ow! So, uh, what the hell were you guys doing making out on my freaking mattress?"

   "Well, we having kinda been going out for like a week now so we were going to..." Cameron answered.

   "Oh God. What the hell! Why didn't you tell me you guys were a thing? I mean, I didn't even know you two knew each other."

   "We didn't really want anyone to know yet. Plus you can be really judgmental sometimes."

   "Seriously? Name one time that I judged you."

   "Well, the second you saw us on your bed you yelled 'Really Kim? Cameron? Are you really that desperate?' then fainted," Kim retorted.

   "Hey, don't worry. Ethan doesn't know either," Cam explained.

   "Ow! I guess that makes me feel a bit better."

   The doctor finished up with my now stitched hand and prescribed me some ointment.

   "Apply it twice a day and don't forget to air it out."

   Just as the doctor left, Ethan limped back into our cubicle looking down at his now air casted ankle in shame. We all stood up, awaiting the to hear the current status of his injury.

   "Well, there goes lacrosse."

   He broke his ankle. Running. Because I cut my hand. Now I felt, even more, like absolute shit.