Page 28 of Collide
“You twisted it," I say, lifting her into my arms.
“I’m fi—fuck,” she curses. “You don’t have to carry me.” The words barely leave her mouth with how hard she clenches her teeth.
The guys are already a few feet ahead of us. “Is she okay?”
“I’ve got her.” I’m moving fast down the slope. Fast enough that Kilner would kill me for risking an injury. When we’re back on concrete, I spot the medical aid room, and Summer wraps her arms around my neck, closing her eyes in pain.
Inside, it’s run down and dirty. It’s an old place, so I’m surprised they even have a room.
“Do not put me on the dirty counter,” Summer warns. I pivot to grab a handful of paper towels to put under her. She’s watching me as I pull out the first aid kit, then take off her shoe and sock, trying to turn her ankle to see where it hurts.
“Fuck,” she hisses. “Are you doing that on purpose?”
I gentle my touch. “Sorry, just checking how bad it’s twisted.”
She tips her head back and groans. “I haven’t had enough caffeine today, and you’re giving me a headache.”
“I thought you didn't drink coffee.”
She massages her temples. “Chai. I need like two cups a day, more if I’m dealing with you.”
I ignore the remark and eye her high ponytail. Feeling brave, I pull her hair tie and let her soft brown waves fall around her shoulders. When she tries to snatch the hair tie, I slide it on my wrist. “Maybe you have a headache from your hair being in a death grip.”
“That’s how I like it,” she declares.
I raise my brows, making her roll her eyes. “I like it down.”
She snorts. “Good to know. I’ll throw out all my hair ties because Aiden Crawford likes it when girls wear their hair down.”
Wrapping the bandage around her ankle, I glance at her. “Not girls. You.”
Summer’s smugness slips off her face, and the crease between her brows deepens. I know her mind is working overtime, but the comment slipped off my tongue so quickly I couldn't stop it.
“Done,” I say coolly, dropping her leg. She immediately hops off, wincing when she lands on her foot. “Lay off of it for a bit.”
She attempts to hop away again, but I block her path. “Not happening.This is only going to work if you let me help you.
“Fine.” She lets me lift her again, soft hair dusting my arm. “Thanks.”
10 | SUMMER
FOR THE FIRST time in a long time, someone’s proud of me, and I don’t know how to act.
Dr. Müller hands my paper back. “This is great work, Summer. If you complete these tests and get some literature to back this up, they will beg you to join the co-op.”
I sigh with relief. It’s been stressful trying to get my paper structured, and knowing I’ve finally nailed it means I’m one step closer to achieving my goal. Dr. Langston’s emails have given me only negative feedback. I stopped by to see her today, but Dr. Müller, one of my favorite psychology professors, stopped me to chat.
“Would it be too much if I ran my final draft by you too?”
“Not at all, email or stop by my office. I’ll be happy to help. But shouldn’t you be running this by Laura? She’s ultimately the one to sign off on your project, not me.”
For this program, you can’t submit an application unless it’s given approval from your advisor. So, I couldn’t go behind Langston’s back and toss my name in the hat if she hated it. “I know. I just want to have more than one opinion.”
Müller agrees, and I ask him a few more questions, enjoying not feeling patronized, before I head out. Langston being the chair and on the admissions board doesn’t give me an advantage. The only reason she can do both is because she’s proved countless times that she is unbiased. I have a few more weeks until my application is due, so I'm looking at every possible angle to guarantee acceptance.
Donny made me nervous with his talk about the low percentage for acceptance each year and how my life will look worse than a pile-up on the I-95 if I don’t get in. He’s clearly great at pep talks.
My phone pings with a text from another one of my headaches.
