Trust me, I'm Lying [Boyxboy]

Chapter Eighteen

Hanging out in a hospital was no merry-go-round but having my family around this time made the time fly quicker. Two weeks filled with trice daily visits from doctors and I was finally given the go ahead to go home.

"We're letting you go home, but you still have to take it easy. Alright?" Dr. Rousseau talked down to me.

"I heard you the first time. And the fourth time. I will," I rolled my eyes.

"Beau!" My mom was somehow appalled at how I treated my doctor. As if I had any manners. "He will."

"You'll need to come back-"

"In a week for a check up. Blah, blah, blah. I know," I interrupted him.

I was rolled out of the hospital and into Cole's car. Once outside I was allowed to slowly lift myself out of the wheelchair and get into Cole's chair. The surgery had left my back in a ton of pain for a while and any movement sent waves of nausea and torture up and down my body. 

It felt weird to be out of the hospital. Cole and I were finally alone in what felt like months. Mom never left my side, and people would come and visit every so often. Grayson had found out some how and would come by every other day or so. Her positivity was nice.

The person I didn't expect to stick around was Mike. After the day he was released he went home, and I figured that would be the end of it. However, he came back the next day to see me. 

There was obvious tension in the room when he came, but he was trying, so I did too. He started to turn back into his old self. Or the person I used to see him as. Not as hot headed, more calm.

"What are you thinking about?" Cole interrupted my thoughts.

I looked at him and smiled, "Just happy to be out of there."

"No kiddin'. Now we can eat real food," he scrunched his nose. 

 "The jello wasn't that bad," I pursed my lips.

He looked at me from the corner of his eye, "That was the worst part."

I shook my head at him, smirking. 

After a while we had made it to our neighborhood. Cole looked at me as our houses approached, "Which house are we going to?"

"Yours."

He looked at his house for a second, noticing something, "Maybe we should go to yours. Your supposed to be resting anyway."

I raised an eyebrow at him, "I'm pretty sure your house contains couches and beds."

"Beau," He said sternly. His gaze didn't waver from whatever he was looking at. I followed his eyes and saw two cars. His parents were home.

I slunk back in my seat knowing I wasn't going to win this argument.

When we got to my house we went straight up to my room and started unpacking my stuff. By this I meant I sat on my bed and told Cole where everything went. I was completely sore and moving in the slightest was not on the top of my to do list right now.

Cole held up a pair of shorts. "Bottom drawer. Over there," I nodded in the direction. 

He held up another shirt. When I didn't answer immediatly he unfolded it so I could see it more clearly.

"That's not mine."

Cole scrunched his eyes and turned the shirt around so he could look at it. "Oh," he let out a small laugh, "This ones mine."

I smirked back at him and shook my head at him.

The last thing left was my pile of boxers, "Top drawer."