Page 12 of The Boy I Once Loved

Chapter Three

I groan when we arrive at the emergency department. The place is packed. On the way here, I rang my mum to let her know what had happened. Mum didn’t have a car, so Dylan assured her he would look after me and keep her updated.

I have been triaged by a nurse and I am waiting to see the doctor. Connor got bored and he went off to the cafeteria to see if he could get us some food and drinks.

“You’re quiet,” Dylan comments, leaning back in his seat as he studies my face.

I turn and glare at him from where I sit beside him. “That’s because I’m in pain thanks to you. Why did you have to take us to see that stupid tree?!”

“Hey that tree is not stupid,” he replies.

Across from us sit an old couple. Holding hands, they are watching our exchange and smiling.

“Young love,” the lady says with a smile. “I met this one in high school.” She gestures with her head to the man sat beside her.

“Remember when we used to bicker like that?” Her husband asks.

The lady raises a brow. “We still bicker like that now.”

“We do, and she loves it.” He winks, grinning at us both, his face wrinkled with time.

"We're just friends," Dylan tells them.

I glower at him and look back at the couple. “We are not friends. We used to be.”

The old lady looks from me to Dylan and smiles. “I used to hate him too.” She gestures with her head to her husband, who laughs.

"She did. Had the door slammed in my face many a time. I didn't give up though. I knew my Lizzie was the one for me."

They look at each other and grin. It is a sweet moment to watch. “Fifty-five years later, here we are. Three children and five grandchildren.”

“You’re lucky,” I comment. “A love like that is rare.”

The lady nods at me. “That it is my dear. When you find it you shouldn’t fight it.” I squirm in my seat. It is as if she can see right into my very soul.

I avert my eyes from the way she looks at me. The silence is broken when Dylan's phone rings. He fishes it out of his pocket and sighs. Unable to resist, I lean over and spot a girl's name on the screen.

“You should answer it. It’s probably a booty call.”

He frowns at me and rejects the call. “It isn’t a booty call.”

“None of my business whether it is, or it isn’t,” I reply, folding my arms across my chest.

He leans into my face and cocks a brow. “Thought you weren’t interested?”

“I’m not,” I huff, and I lean my head back, trying to put some distance between our faces.

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Taking the bike out. Or at least I was until some bright spark took me into the woods in the dark and bust my ankle.”

He nods. “How long have you had the bike?”

I fidget with the polystyrene cup in my hands. “My uncle bought it me for my seventeenth birthday. He taught me to ride. He used to let me go out with him and the boys on Sunday mornings.”

“You love it, huh?” He says it more as a statement rather than a question, his dark eyes observing me intensely.

“I feel free, like I can leave everything behind when I’m on the bike.” I gulp, I’ve said a little more than I intended to.

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