Behind the Scenes(85)

He leads the way, taking me down the hall. I can’t help but stare at his back, the broad shoulders and tall frame. I press my lips together and suck in a breath through my nose. God, how I want to touch him again; to relive what happened in his dad’s library…

He stops so suddenly that I bump into him. A second later, he’s rushing forward into the living room.

“Eryk!” he shouts.

And then I see what made him stop. Eryk is laying on the floor next to the coffee table, rolled over on his side. His eyes are closed and he looks unnaturally pale.

Simon drops to his knees next to him and lifts his head. I try to take a step forward, but my veins are full of ice, holding me frozen in the spot where I stand.

“What’s wrong with him?” I ask in a weak, scared voice that sounds nothing like my own.

“I don’t know.” Simon lightly smacks Eryk’s cheek. “Eryk! Can you hear me? Wake up.”

I look at the coffee table only a couple feet away from them. “Did he hit his head?”

“I don’t know.” He lifts Eryk’s head into his lap, and Eryk doesn’t so much as sigh or flutter an eyelash. An icy hand squeezes around my heart, killing all hope left in it.

What if he’s dead?

Simon checks for a pulse and then bends his face close to Eryk’s.

“He’s breathing. Sydney, call an ambulance.”

I push my feet across the room and grab my backpack. Thank God I always put it in the same front pocket. My fingers shake as I dial 911.

The dispatcher comes on.

“My roommate is unconscious,” I quickly say. “I don’t know what happened.”

I glance over at the floor, where Simon is snapping in front of Eryk’s ear. I rattle off the address and apartment number and hang up.

“An ambulance is on the way,” I tell him.

“Hand me a pillow.”

I grab one from the couch and pass it over. He slips it under Eryk’s feet, propping them up high.

“What are you doing?”

“This helps get blood flow back to the brain.”

Eryk’s eyes open slightly and I gasp. “Simon!” I say.

Eryk blinks groggily then closes his eyes again.

“Hey!” Simon says, grabbing his shoulders. “Stay awake! Eryk, can you hear me? Stay awake.”

Eryk mumbles something incoherent. It sounds like babbling coming from a one-year-old.

“Sydney.” Simon points at the kitchen. “Get a glass of water.”

I clear the living room in a few leaps. The trickle from the fridge seems to move glacially slow. When the glass is half full, I carry it back to Simon and crouch down next to his side. Eryk’s eyes are almost fully open, but there’s something fuzzy about them. He looks around the living room like he’s uncertain about where he is.

“Can you drink this?” Simon asks.

Eryk takes the slightest sip before dropping his head back down. I hear the sirens coming down the street and rush to the courtyard to meet the people coming in. The medics are both young men, one short and one tall. They carry bags and a cot. I direct them to my apartment and stand in the hallway while they gather around Eryk.

“How long was he unconscious?” the tall one asks Simon.

“We don’t know. We were out of the room for not even ten minutes. When we came back in, we found him like this.”

The short EMT begins talking to Eryk, shining a light in his eyes and asking him his name. Simon backs out of the way, coming to stand next to me in the hallway by the door. His hand slips into mine, and I weave my fingers through his, not giving the action any thought.

Eryk’s awake. He’s not dead.

The tall EMT comes over to us. “He’s speaking, but we’re going to take him to the hospital just to get him checked out. Since you don’t know how long he was unconscious, it’s best not to take any chances. We’ll take him to Hollywood Presbyterian.”

“We’ll go there now.” Simon squeezes my hand and we move out of the way. The medics put Eryk on the cot, strapping him in before lifting him up and carrying him down the stairs. A few neighbors stand in the hall, watching with great interest. I snatch my backpack and pull on my shoes, hopping towards the door while doing so.

“Come on.” The words are a half gasp, half sob.

Simon goes ahead of me and I follow, remembering last minute to shut and lock the door. My hand shakes against the railing and I try to focus on each step.

Make it down the stairs, then across the courtyard. That’s all I have to do. One thing at a time.

The ambulance is pulling away by the time we get to where Simon’s car is parked on the street. He’s got the key in the ignition and the engine going before I’ve barely buckled my seat belt. I pull my phone out and send Crystal a text detailing everything that just happened.