Like To Be You ✓

eight

"The hell was that?"

Tyler looks up from the ground. His temple rests against a streetlight pole. We're standing in the parking lot of Gusto's. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. They're darker now, even in the light he's standing under. His chest rises and falls with each ragged breath. He keeps clenching and opening his fists. Drops of blood drip down his knuckles and fingers and onto the ground.

"What are you doing here?" he finally says. Eyes still closed, he turns his face away from mine.

I don't know why, but after the locker-room breakdown and all that, I have a feeling that I owe him. It makes me want to punch myself in the face. I do not owe Tyler Beckett anything. But somehow, my conscience decides that it does and drops eight pounds of guilt on my chest.

"What happened back there?" I say each word slowly, concisely, hoping to draw an answer. He doesn't comply.

"Neil, I..." he sounds tired. It doesn't make things any better for my chest and stomach. They've nearly clawed their way up my windpipe.

His left hand, which was pressed to his temple earlier now cradles his jaw.

"I've had a bad day, and he said something that made it worse, okay?" Tyler finally says. He keeps staring at the ground, clenching and unclenching his bloody hand. My right eye twitches.

"You need to get that checked out by a doctor." I say.

"I'm fine."

"Tyler."

"Neil." His face is completely turned away from me. I suspect that he's smiling, but don't mention it.

"You need medical attention."

"I'm fine."

"Stupid, as always."

"Stubborn, as always."

"Idiot." I say under my breath.

Tyler raises a brow at me, a small smile evident on his lips. "Are you done?"

"With you? Yes."

He regards my words as he scuffs his shoe against the ground.

"How did you come here?" I ask.

"Pooled a ride with Dylan."

I take a deep breath, preparing for the worst that's yet to come out of my mouth. "I'll drive you home."

I turn around, already fishing for my keys in my pocket.

"You don't have to." He sounds mildly surprised. I smile to myself. I'm being nice, a gesture of mine he's not used to.

"Stop arguing, Tyler." I say, then continue walking.

Ahead, the doors to Gusto's open and Max Conan and Shannon Rodriguez come rushing out. I swerve out of the way as they approach Tyler and get into my car. Revving the engine, I watch Tyler and Max heatedly talking and Shannon checking Tyler for injuries other than his jaw. She cradles his bruised hand in hers and stares at Tyler with wide eyes. Next to me, my phone rings.

"What's the name of the sandwich you just bought?" Zayne asks, his voice muffled with the food he's presumably chewing on. "It's fucking delicious."

"I don't know. Ask them."

"Hmm." he continues chewing. Then, "You gonna drive your boyfriend home?" he laughs, then hangs up before I can respond.

I swear under my breath. Ahead, Tyler and Max are still arguing about something. Then Tyler frees his hand from Shannon's grip and leaves them behind, walking towards my car. He slides in, his head almost touching the Swan doors, and he stretches his legs.