Page 77 of Eastern Lights

“Only if you do a TikTok dance.” I laughed. Even though he was so embarrassing, he made me laugh more than I had in a long time by simply being a dork.

“I like that, too, you know,” he said as he stopped his dramatics. “When you laugh.”

And just like that, he went from making me laugh to making me swoon.

I tried to shake off the butterflies that had no business existing within me, but still, they lingered.

“It weirds me out a little,” he confessed, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “How easy it is to joke around with you. I mean, I have a pretty easy time being around most people—it’s in my character as a people person—but being around you is effortless. You make it easy.” He looked up toward Damian, who was staring our way. He gave Connor a single nod, and then Connor nodded back. “Those people Damian just spoke to will probably put an offer in tonight.”

“How can you tell?”

“Because Damian almost smiled. It’s a done deal. Come on, let’s wander a little bit more.”

I began walking with him and suddenly felt extremely light-headed. I blinked a few times as my vision blurred. The room began spinning faster than I could handle, and my heart began racing faster as I reached out for the closest wall to steady myself.

Connor instantly grew alert and moved in toward me. “Aaliyah, are you o—?”

Blackness.

* * *

Syncope.

Noun.

Definition: The temporary loss of consciousness caused by a fall in blood pressure.

Also known as the medical term for passing out.

Two years ago, I didn’t know what syncope was. Two years ago, I didn’t know a lot of medical terms. I didn’t know the ins and outs of a hospital room. I didn’t know that sometimes it took hours to be seen in an emergency room. I missed those days when I didn’t know.

I sat on the uncomfortable hospital bed after being given a script for medications due to my fall. I didn’t remember exactly what happened, but when I came to Connor was standing over me with concerned eyes.

I remembered a warm sensation tickling down my face as I placed my hands against my skin, then pulled my fingers back to see red painted against my thumb.

“I’m bleeding?”

“You hit your head on the side table on your fall. We should get you checked out at the hospital,” Connor said.

I disagreed.

I didn’t want to go to the hospital.

He disagreed with my disagreement.

He worried about a concussion.

I worried about my heart, and what the hospital might’ve told me.

I knew that wasn’t a good reason to not go get checked out, but it seemed every time I went into a hospital, I came out with worse news than before. All I wanted to do was be normal for a moment. All I wanted to do was interview Connor, get a look inside of his world, and become a senior editor.

Regardless, Connor won the hospital visit argument. I was too tired, and my head pounded too intensely for me to put up much of a fight.

So, now I sat in the chilled hospital room, with a nurse bringing me my discharge paperwork and prescriptions. They’d given me five stitches to my forehead, and some pain medicine to help with the recovery.

I knew Connor was still in the waiting room, and the biggest wave of embarrassment flooded my mind thinking about facing him. Not only did I faint in front of him, but I did it in the middle of his work event. I passed out and bled inside of a multi-million-dollar home in front of dozens of people.

There were so many days I wished I wasn’t me.

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