Playing With Fire (Previously Burning The Bad Boy) (UNDER RECONSTRUCTION)

{15} The Bad Boy Who Cried Wolf

My idea of figuring out what to do once I dropped Damon off shattered at the sight of how many missed calls I'd received from my father.

Standing in the middle of the waiting room, the sound of heart monitors had become background noise, a dull hum that was there but barely present in my own mind. I couldn't even begin to imagine how bad I looked to everyone graced with the wonderful ability to see me.

My arm had started throbbing, but I refused to let a doctor see me when I knew it was no more than a little gash that I'd be able to disinfect and clean up when I got home. It didn't help my nausea that my sky blue tee was spotted with Damon's blood. Every time I glanced down, I was met with the sight of it.

I knew better than to try and call Rachel for a ride; her parents had confiscated her phone by now and they'd be the ones responding and would eventually contact my dad. Damon had handed his phone off to me before the nurses took him back, demanding I called someone for a ride home. When it came down to it, I was either going to spend the night here with Damon or go home to my lying father who'd ground me for a decade.

"Miss Thomas?" a loud, muffled voice stirred me out of my daze. I turned Damon's phone off and slipped it into my pocket, spinning on my heel so I was facing the doctor with a quizzical expression.

"Right here." I waved, starting toward the elderly man. His attention was on the clipboard in his hands, listing what I could only presume were Damon's results.

He lifted his head and met my eyes once I approached. "You are listed as Mr. Fox's emergency contact. I'm hoping you can clear a few things up for me."

I blinked in surprise.

Damon had listed me, the girl who was the reason he ended up here more times than not, as his emergency contact?

"Mr. Fox doesn't appear to have any sort of insurance and we have contacted his mother and father on countless occasions and have received no answer. Are Mr. Fox and his family speaking?"

"I'm sorry, Doc, I don't know." I whispered, a heavy feeling setting in my chest. I felt as if the wind had been knocked out of me.

"Thank you, Miss Thomas. Mr. Fox is resting if you'd like to head back and see him." he sighed, tucking the clipboard in a secure spot under his arm.

I nodded, waiting for him to lead the way. "Sure."

*

Damon was high on pain meds when I finally reached his room. He sat upright, his head against the wall as he stared up at the ceiling, eyes half open. The right side of his mouth was curved into a smirk that I guessed had to do with my appearance in the room.

"You haven't left yet, Princess?" he didn't move an inch as he spoke softly.

I touched my fingers to the cold door frame. "I thought I'd wait around until your family showed."

He started laughing, his head finally falling into a normal position. He stared at me through half open eyes, eyelids seeming to droop more and more by the second.

"You're gonna be here a while then, Thomas. Because they aren't going to come. They could care less if anything happened to me." he yawned mid-sentence, stretching his arms behind his head.

"Damon." I breathed.

His lip curled at the sympathy that had seeped into my voice. "Don't."

"What happened? Who'd you get in a fight with?"

He groaned. "Why don't you listen?"

I stepped into the room and gently pushed the door shut behind me, the clicking signaling my adventure across the room.