Page 38 of The Chemistry of Us

I slowly rested my head against the cool grass. Yes, because that helps with a concussion.

Was that what I had?

I could not afford to have a head injury post practice. We had our first game in a week.

I sat up and looked around, but everything was double. It made me want to puke, so I lay back down against the grass and closed my eyes, only to feel someone slapping me on the cheeks. “Wake up, no sleeping, wake up!”

Sleep.

All I wanted was sleep. Sleep would be nice, wouldn’t it? Just closing your eyes.

A slap hit my face. “What the hell!” I was yelling, but I didn’t care.

Voices sounded after I managed to come to. I stood and slowly made my way into the locker room with the help of my teammates. After changing, Brady took me back to the townhouse. I remembered nothing until crashing onto the bed face down.

I had no concept of time other than just knowing I was exhausted until someone's hands moved to my head and flicked my nose. “You missed your next session.”

I groaned. “God?”

“No. Worse. It’s me.”

Why didit’s mesound more terrifying?

“Tru?” I rasped. My head still pounded, and I was still confused as to how much time had passed between my hit from Brady at practice and now. “What day is it?”

“Are you that drunk?”

“No.” I tried to sit up, but my head wasn’t allowing it. I was so dizzy. “I think I’m dying.”

“Because you partied?”

“No.” I held my head in my own hands and turned toward her. “Because I got a concussion.”

She froze. “Who’s checking on you?”

“The guys, why?”

She got up and started yelling profanities. I didn’t really know who she was yelling at, but my head hurt worse and worse. A door slammed, opened, slammed again, more yelling. God, the yelling, why?

“You should have checked on him every few hours!”

“I did! I swear! I got distracted, my girlfriend?—”

Was someone getting hit?

“No, dipshit! Someone could have died because you’re an idiot. God, how do you even survive on air?” She was screaming. It was shrill. Was she defending me? Protecting me? Or just trying to get them to leave so she could put a pillow over my face?

Did I hear any of that right?

“Yes, you’re right, I’m sorry, I’m an idiot, I’ll do better.” Brady’s voice was shaking. What did she do? Grab a machete and hold it too close to his precious tattoo sleeve?

“No!” she yelled. “This is serious, dumbass. Just go stay with your girlfriend. I’ll go to his room, hydrate him, wake him up every few hours… and you call yourself a friend. If you were a toddler, I’d tell you to write an apology letter and post it to the fridge, but I’m not even sure you could actually manage to grab a magnet and put it on the paper at this point, let alone sign your own damn name!”

Huh, her loud voice was nice. I forgot about that. About getting scolded. I kind of loved it. I never got yelled at growing up. Instead, they’d given me trophies for just showing up, but the yelling… yeah, I could roll with that.

Wow, I really was delirious… and those participation trophies had been shit anyway.

I smiled and turned into my pillow. So tired.

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