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

{27} Call me A Sinner, Call Me A Saint

"I feel like I was hit by a truck." Damon groaned. I shot him a quick sideways glance, a small smile playing on my lips.

"I can feel you there."

"Where are we going?" he grumbled, watching the familiarity of our town rush passed in a blur. "Micky?"

I clenched the steering wheel in my hands, watching the color drain from them. "I think it'd be best if you had someone watching over you for a while."

He opened his mouth to protest, but I held a hand up, silencing him.

"I know you're going to hate me for this, Damon. I'm sorry." I finished with a shaky breath.

Damon rested his head against the window and sighed.

"I don't hate you." he whispered.

"What?"

"I don't hate you, Micky. I guess I understand, you're just looking out for me." he answered.

I smiled, outstretching a hand and resting it on his leg. He laced his fingers through mine and laughed quietly to himself.

"How's school been without me?" he sounded genuinely curious.

"Everyone's been asking about what happened to you." I shook my head. "You should hear half the theories people are coming up with. Our peers definitely have imagination."

Damon nodded, keeping quiet for a few minutes. "How's Ryder?"

"He's doing okay. He's been trying to ask Rachel's parents for their blessing, but you can probably guess how that's going."

"What about you? How's everything been going for you?" he lifted his head, blue eyes glistening.

"Well, I've spent every afternoon for the last week in a hospital room with the school's bad boy." I smiled. "And spend my mornings trying to avoid my father and get through the last few months of school. I'd say I'm doing okay."

Damon chuckled. "Very cute, Princess."

"Thanks." I squeezed his hand, "I learned from the best."

*

Damon, with a lot of resistance, eventually agreed to stay with his brother for a few weeks, until he was back on his feet. I knew he needed some time to recollect his thoughts, and I thought it'd be best if he wasn't alone in the process of it.

After dropping him off and helping him settle in, I drove back to the other side of town and pulled the car into one of the few spots in the parking lot outside Damon's apartments. Ryder and his father stood in front of the doors, shifting back and forth.

I could feel a smile tugging on my lips when I saw how Ryder was dressed. He wore a black shirt splattered with blue and white paint, his jeans torn and as spotted as his shirt. Mr. Stone held a tool box in one hand, pushing into the wall beside him, beads of sweat forming along his forehead.

"How bad?" I asked, pulling the spare set of keys Damon had given me from my purse and swinging them around my index finger.

Mr. Stone frowned. "The stairs need major restoration. I'd say a couple thousand just in those, and another few in the painting."

"The appliances?" I breathed.

He huffed out a sigh of his own. "There's some work that needs to be done in a few of the rooms, a couple water heaters that need to be replaced, but I'd say that's going to be the lowest cost."