Dead Beat

"But you said I don't smell!"

Unlike most people, I knew quite early on in my life that I wasn't a lucky person.

Some people might've been whacked with the lucky stick at birth or told where all the winning scratchers were, but not me.

But I suppose I thought that when a man of Dylan's cadre walked--sorry, bumped into my life, again, that the Fates would somehow find a way to balance out the misfortune I've had all these years. It was all about balance. You couldn't be too happy for too long because karma would bite you in the butt and drag you back down to earth, and you couldn't be too sad and miserable, because the Fates would kill you so you could reap the benefits of heaven in the afterlife.

Fate, though.

I actually believed that the kissing-Dylan-and-absent-Kate lucky streak I was on would stick around for longer, but guess what? Karma bites when it smells joy.

Stings, too, as the good doctor had explained.

"So, let me get this straight. You got stung by a jellyfish and the first thing you did was let a bunch of kids pee on your leg?"

It was time.

I blatantly rolled my eyes.

News seemed to travel fast at The Kindred Hospital; faster than I blacking out due to an on head collision with a beach ball, getting peed on by middle schoolers, Dylan returning and carrying my unconscious body to the hospital where I sit just awoken, narrating my anecdote to the nurse.

"I didn't have much of a choice."

But I've come to terms with it. I can beat around the bush all year saying it didn't happen, but hey where's the practicality in that? I've figured it's better to accept it and move on. Because, look on the bright side, I didn't have to see it happen.

I squeezed Dylan's hand when my leg stung from nurse Amy cleaning me up and applying some calamine lotion.

"I'm sorry." He whispered. Again.

"Hey, come on, Dyl. For what it's worth, I really enjoyed my popsicle and walk on the beach with you."

"Hm." He scoffed, not sounding convinced in the least. It wasn't his fault it happened. Well, he shouldn't have left me, but . . . He said he panicked. That's ok. People panic.

"And what you did to my hand." I whispered, in hopes of cheering him up.

"What did you do to her hand?"

I gazed in the general direction of nurse Amy's voice and held my expression.

"Fine, don't tell me." She probably rolled her eyes too, and I heard her shuffle to her feet, footsteps fading. "And whatever it was, I'm glad it was the hand, not the leg. You really smell, lady."

"You come back here and say that again!" Before I knew it, I was on my feet and heading towards the trails of her voice, while Dylan's strong and muscular arm held me back.

"Calm down, Avy. She's kidding."

"But you said I don't smell!"

Dylan sighed, and I sat back down. Fine.

"So . . . You liked that, huh?" Dylan nudged my arm teasingly, and my lips quirked into an impromptu smile.

"Would you like it if I did that to your-"

"Buttkiss, Aveena?"

Interrupted a deep, phlegmy voice as it marched in to the room, carrying the smell of more disinfectant along. But it wasn't nearly enough to mask the other smell.