FOUR
1224 Words
CHAPTER FOUR
Annabel’s POV
“I have to run out to do something really quick. Could you look after him for me till I get back? I promise I won’t be long.” Caleb asked, looking a bit nervous.
I glanced between Caleb and Justin, confused as to why he would ask me to look after Justin when he didn’t look to be in a critical situation anymore, and the nurse was going to be here in a bit. I bit back my tongue from asking why he wanted me to do that and thought it better to take advantage of the situation.
Maybe this was the moment I’d been searching for to get closer to him. It was like a miracle how this opportunity could have landed right in my lap.
“I mean… yeah. Sure,” I replied, trying to sound unbothered. Caleb was gone the moment I agreed, leaving just Justin and me in the private section of the emergency department.
Now, how exactly do I do this…
I shifted in my seat, hands clasped too tightly in my lap. The sterile silence of the hospital room was suddenly louder than the gym crowd earlier. I could hear the hum of a monitor from another bed, the distant echo of a nurse’s heels on tile, and the painfully loud thud of my own heart.
Justin sat across from me, hand still bandaged, legs slightly spread in that relaxed, golden-boy-athlete way. Even though he was injured, he looked at ease in his body. Meanwhile, I was 99% sure I was about to start nervously sweating through my shirt.
My plan to get closer to him was successful, but strangely, now that I’m within a close radius of him, my stomach won’t stop fluttering like there was an outbreak of butterflies inside me.
No no.
It’s nothing, really. I can’t possibly be feeling something for the all too popular heartbreaker of Hawkings State College. My heart fluttering was a normal biological reaction to seeing a conventional, attractive man.
He’s just too handsome, and my body acknowledged it, but I definitely don’t feel anything for him. I can go through with my plan without any hiccups. I just have to try to get him to start talking.
I cleared my throat. “So… how’s the hand?”
He looked at me briefly, then back down at it. “Fine.”
Oh. Cool. One-word answers. Great start.
I nodded like that was the most profound thing I’d heard all day. “Good. That’s… good.”
Silence.
I shifted in my chair, glancing around the room like it held the secrets to surviving painfully awkward conversations. He didn’t seem uncomfortable, though. Just… indifferent. Calm in a way that made me feel like the only one overthinking everything.
Which, yeah. Fair.
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Do they think you’ll need stitches?”
He shrugged. “Probably.”
Okay, so maybe he was the silent type. Or perhaps he didn’t want to talk to me at all. Maybe he thought I was some random girl who ran onto the court just for clout. God, did I come off like that?
I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to let the secondhand embarrassment crush me. “Sorry, by the way. For… barging in earlier.”
His eyes flicked to mine. “Why?”
I blinked. “I don’t know. Just thought maybe I overstepped.”
He held my gaze for a beat longer than necessary, then looked away. “You helped. It’s fine. Thank you.”
It’s fine. Right. Cool. Amazing.
I sat back in the chair, unsure of what else to say. My carefully imagined plan of flirtation and charming banter was officially dead on arrival. His voice had no warmth, no sign of interest—just polite tolerance.
I felt like a fan girl who’d shown up uninvited to the afterparty. And maybe that’s exactly what I was.
Luckily, a nurse entered the room at that moment, saving me from more embarrassment. She looked to be in her late twenties, and I didn’t miss how her eyes widened when she saw Justin and her lips curled into a bright smile.
“Oh wow,” she said, pushing her glasses back from the bridge of her nose. “You’re the one from the game, right? I saw you take that hit. Nasty foul.”
Justin smiled faintly and answered quietly, “Yeah, the very one.”
Just like that, he had more syllables for her than he did for me.
The nurse stepped closer, her movements overly gentle as she peeled back the makeshift bandage I’d wrapped around his hand. “You’re lucky it didn’t slice a tendon. You’ve got fast reflexes.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Of course, he did.
She continued fussing over him, asking questions like, “Are you right or left-handed?” and “What’s your pain level, sweetheart?” I knew she was just doing her job, but it still ticked me off watching Justin respond with more enthusiasm than he had bothered with me. This was funny because I had helped first, and now he was acting indifferent towards me.
No, I didn’t expect him to bow down before me in appreciation, but I didn’t think he would suddenly go cold.
I tried not to show my frustration, but I’m pretty sure my expression gave me away. She finally noticed me sitting there and offered a smile that was polite but dismissive reads more smoothly.
“You his sister?”
Oh. My. God.
“Uh, no,” I said with a tight smile. “Just a-.” I paused. Who even was I to him? We are most definitely not friends, and he wasn’t my boyfriend—yet.
“We go to the same college,” Justin filled in for me. The nurse nodded, like that explained everything, then turned back to Justin, who hadn’t looked at me once since she walked in.
“Looks like you’ll need a couple of stitches,” she said. “Doctor will be here soon. It shouldn’t take long. You’re lucky it wasn’t worse. I’m just going to give you a shot to dull the pain.”
She turned toward the counter, prepping the syringe and swabbing a small vial. Then she looked at me.
“Would you mind helping me real quick?” she asked, glancing between me and Justin. “Just hold the edge of this for a second so I can keep the pressure steady when I inject.”
“Sure,” I said, trying not to sound too eager.
I moved toward them and positioned myself beside Justin, close enough that our arms might brush if he moved. I reached for the gauze she handed me, letting my shoulder face his, hoping the proximity might spark something.
But the moment I was in his space, I felt it.
He leaned away.
Not dramatically. Not enough for anyone else to notice. But I noticed. His torso shifted slightly to the side, his arm angled just enough that we wouldn’t touch.
It was like a silent rejection, loud only to me.
Okay, that’s it, I’m leaving.
He clearly dislikes me and thinks I’m a creep, which explains his attitude towards me.
- Writer
