A Heart Like Yours | ✓

Two - "Try the sexiest man alive"

The restaurant is packed; bustling with servers carrying food to tables and loud-mouthed customers who are giving me a headache.

Not to mention I'm already dealing with Charlie and Jett practically screaming at the top of their lungs to be heard over the loud music.

"Hunny, no," Jett pretends to gag. "Even I have better taste in men."

"Excuse me?" Charlie scoffs. "He told me I looked nice in that dress."

"Have you learnt nothing? Of course a boy like him would say that. He's trying to get in your pants, idiot."

"I wasn't wearing pants, though."

"Please stop being so literal. I hate when you get like that."

My phone dings on the table; a message from Anna lighting up the screen, still freaking out over my encounter with Holden Pacheco yesterday. Even though I'd told her it was nothing, that he'd been a bit of a dick and I'd left without shortly after without a word, she's now got it in her head that I'll be able to introduce him to her.

I place my phone face down on the table, the inner side of my arm showing the fresh bruise. It haunts me, the blood under the surface threatening to unleash its gruelling power through my body. The white blood cells as they multiply and multiply and—

"Hello, earth to Blake? Bea?"

"Hmm?" I answer, my attention turning back to my friends. "Sorry. I wasn't listening."

"Obviously," Charlie scoffs, flicking her curtain bangs from her eyes. "Jett's being an ass and I need you to take my side."

"On?"

"He thinks Tyler — the guy I went on a date with —"

"I met Holden Pacheco yesterday. He came into the hospital," I blurt, ending the pain and suffering I was about to endure from Charlie's long winded babbling.

The fork Charlie had been holding drops from her hand and I watch her blue eyes shine with sudden excitement. Jett's expression almost mirrors hers too; his dark hair shining in the florescent restaurant lighting.

"You — you what?" Charlie gasps.

"We've been sitting here for half and hour and you're only telling us now that you met one of the most sought after heartthrobs?" Jett raises his eyebrows, shaking his head.

"We didn't really talk much. He seems like an ass, actually—"

"No," Charlie whines. "Don't tell me that. I don't want to change my Twitter profile."

"He just seems arrogant."

"I mean, maybe he deserves to be," Jett grins. "He's hot enough."

"Okay," I scoff, rolling my eyes.

"Oh, please," Charlie huffs. "As if you don't agree."

"Arrogance always ruins it for me," I shrug. "But, sure, he's... good looking."

"Good looking? Try the sexiest man alive," Charlie swoons, cupping her cheek as she swirls some pasta around her folk, staring at it lovingly.

"I still can't believe you withheld something so life changing from us," Jett frowns.

"Look, I won't deny that it was kind of cool. But seriously, you know celebrities are just regular people, right? I mean, he was sitting in a hospital room, just like any other patient."

"It must have been because of that fall he had on stage last week. I saw the video someone had filmed from the concert. People think he was having a heart attack."

"Seriously?" I raise an eyebrow, my stomach dipping. "He's only — what, twenty?"

"Yep," Charlie says, opening her phone and turning it around to show me a video.

I press play, finding footage of Holden's last concert. It shows him singing on minute; the microphone turned towards the crowd as they sing along before he rubs his chest, grimacing. His hands shake before he collapses. Some people in the front row scream. The footage cuts off.

My gut twists, sliding the phone back to Charlie on the table. "I think the only reason he moved hospitals was because a fan broke into his room."

"Shit," Jett whistles, taking a sip from Charlie's milkshake. "At least now we have the inside scope."

"No way," I protest. "I'm a cleaner. I don't spy on people. I'm only there to work."

"You're no fun," Charlie pouts. "This is the most exciting thing that has happened to you in nineteen years. Own it."

"Gee, thanks," I deadpan.

"I'm totally dropping by on your next shift," Charlie nods.

I roll my eyes, feeling the pull of the bruise as I reach to steal one of Jett's chips. I feel the grimace tugging at my lips before I can stop it. Not from the dull light pain, but from all that it could represent for me.

"You good?" Jett questions, drumming his fingers on the table; his multiple chunky gold rings knocking against the table. I don't have the energy in me to tell him off like I usually would for his annoying habit.

Fatigued.

Shut up.

"I'm fine," I shake my head, grabbing a handful of chips.

"How did your check up go yesterday?" Charlie questions lightly, sipping from her milkshake.

I see the tiniest tremor in her hand and I'm reminded of when I was ten, trying to explain to them what Leukemia meant. The way Jett had begun to cry and Charlie had sat there unable to move when she'd asked me if I would die. I couldn't reply. The only movement she made was the smallest shake of her hand as it landed upon mine.

"Good," I clear my throat. "I'll get my results in a few days. But it'll be fine."

"I'll drink to that," she beams, holding her milkshake high in the air. "To Bea and her good health!"

"To Bea and her good health," Jett and I repeat.

I think about Parker's face last night as I'd come home after my 'appointment'. I'd really just sat in the parking lot of the hospital for two hours after my shift, ringing the doctor's explaining that I'd need to reschedule.

He'd been so relieved when I'd told him that they hadn't seen any signs, that I'd have my results back soon. How mum and dad had made my favourite meal in celebration. How I could barely look them in the face, knowing I'm lying to all of them. That I'm lying to myself.

Now, I'm lying to my best friends. My best friends who keep nothing from me. Jett, who told me that he was gay before his own family. Charlie, who told me she was scared for the first time in her life when her parents divorced.

You're fine. It's fine.

My body is not self destructing. Because it can't be. I have too much left to live for.

"To good health," I murmur again, downing the rest of my drink.