Page 64 of On the Beat

Despite the heat, I’ve enjoyed it far more than I thought I would. Mostly because Ryder and I have made a game to see who can nibble at the most chilis without tearing up. I’m proud to say I won. I’ve also commissioned him to write me a song declaring my eternal bragging rights and championship over him for all time, but he said he’d alter the song’s lyrics quite a bit.

“No, no, no,” Tita Evangeline says as Ryder cuts a chili pepper. “You’re holding the knife wrong.”

Over her shoulder, Ryder mouths,helpme.

I try desperately to hold in a chuckle.Sorry, I mouth back.

No, you’re not, he mouths before his face twists into a grimace. “Crap.”

Tita Evangeline scowls. “I told you not to cut that way! Now you’ve gone and hacked off your fingernail.”

Ryder shakes his hand as though he’ll somehow shake the pain out of his finger. He’s bleeding. Blood oozes all over the cutting board. “Ow.”

“Don’t just stand there, Isla, go get the first aid kit,” Tita Evangeline says. “I have to watch this soup, or it’ll boil over. You two can go to the bathroom and clean up his finger.”

I snatch up the white and red First Aid Kit kit from the pantry and follow my aunt’s instructions toward the bathroom. Ryder wraps his hand in a paper towel so he doesn’t bleed all over the hardwood, something I’m sure Tita Evangeline will appreciate. “Are you okay?”

Guilt suffuses me suddenly. Did I do this to him? Did I distract him so that he cut his finger? What if he can’t play guitar again? Is he going to be okay?

“Ryder,” I say. “Come on, I was almost a nurse. I think you can trust me to show me your finger.”

He sighs, unwrapping the paper towel as he closes the toilet seat and sits down on the lid. “It probably looks worse than it is.”

“Oh my g—“

“No, no, you’re not allowed to freak out. I’m the one who’s hurt and I’m not even freaking out, so you are one hundred percent, absolutely, totally not allowed to freak out.”

I stare in horror at his finger, which is still dripping blood. I guess it is a good thing I never went into nursing, after all. “Does it hurt?”

“Do you think it hurts?”

“This is not the time for sarcasm,” I snap as I use the paper towel, which is rapidly turning from white to red, to apply pressure to the cut. “Can you move it?”

“Not when you’re holding it so tightly,” he says, gritting his teeth. I can see a vein throb in his neck.

“Sorry,” I squeak as I let go and open the First Aid kit. I pull out a wad of gauze and some bandages. “Do you think it needs to be cleaned?”

“Well, that knife was cutting raw meat before, so…”

“What? What if you get salmonella? Can you get salmonella through a wound—“

Ryder runs his good hand through his hair. “No, I was just joking. Calm down, okay? It’s just a little cut. I can probably just rinse it in the sink.”

“I thought I said no jokes.” I fold my arms over my chest.

“You said no sarcasm, there’s a difference.”

“This isn’t the time for semantics,” I grumble. “You could get sepsis.”

Ryder turns on the faucet and rinses his hand like nothing has happened. The water turns pink. “It’s all good, Isla. Do you want to bandage my finger now so you can sleep better at night?”

I roll my eyes. “I’m worried about you. I’m allowed to do that, I’m your girlfr—“

The last word dies in my throat. Ryder looks smug as he offers me his hand. “Girlfriend, huh?”

“I didn’t say that.” I unwrap a gauze pad and listen to the paper crinkle to drown out the way my heart skips a beat.

“Does it feel better if you add the word ‘fake’ in front of it?”

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