“I’m sure he’s just tired,” I lied. Curious myself as to why a six-five, perfectly healthy quarterback would suddenly look like he’d been drinking all night long.
“Be right back.” Gabe shot up from his seat and went the same direction Wes had.
“Uh-oh,” Lisa murmured. “That can’t be good.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Time was running out fast. I could feel it from the tingling in my hands to the erratic beating of my heart — why was I suddenly finding it so damn hard to realize the end was near? Probably because she made me feel new—like a new beginning.
Weston
I gripped the counter and told myself to keep all the contents of my stomach in, instead of out.
My cell rang.
David.
I pressed ignore and started my typical breathing exercises. It wasn’t healthy for me to panic. In and out, in and out. I held my breath and chanced another look in the mirror.
My phone went off again. This time it was James.
Time for your next set of meds.
Right, like I wanted to take more pills that made me feel shittier, and quite possibly would ruin my date.
I’m fine. I texted back and slipped the phone into my pocket.
I flexed my arms as I braced the counter and breathed in and out through my nose as the nausea came and went. I couldn’t go on like this. The last set of drugs before Christmas were supposed to be the strongest, the doctor’s final hat trick, only I was worried they were hurting more than helping. If I had to keep taking them I wouldn’t be able to play football. I wouldn’t be able to run. I wouldn’t be able to live. I’d be lying in bed sick as a dog as the days ran into each other, until finally, I just didn’t wake up.
“Hey.” The door pushed open. Gabe walked himself right in and shut the door behind him. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Not the time, Gabe.”
“The hell it isn’t!” He grabbed me by the shirt, not a smart move considering I had at least five inches on him, but whatever. I was too weak to care. “What the hell are you taking? Oxy? Meth?”
I laughed. Not because it was funny, but because for a second I wished it was a drug problem. Damn, how pathetic was that?
“No.” I bit down on my lip. The nausea was finally passing, the feeling returning to my extremities. “Nothing like that.”
“You better not be messing with her.” Gabe released me and hit the door with his hand. “I swear I’ll kill you if you hurt her.”
“I just want to be her friend. Honest.” I lied. I wanted more. But people didn’t always get what they wanted.
The nausea came back full force, causing me to double over in pain as, I swear, knives started attacking my stomach. “Hold on, give me a second.”
“Dude.” Gabe put his hand on my back. “What’s wrong? You got the flu or something?”
“Or something,” I said through clenched teeth. “I’m fine, I just get… episodes.” It was the best I could do without lying.
“Like nervous episodes?” Gabe asked.
“Yeah, like that.”
“Sorry.” He swore. “I just… that girl is important okay? Don’t ask me how or why I know she is, I just know. There’s something about her. She’s frail and I don’t want you messing with her just because she’s a hot piece of ass okay?”
“I swear…” It hurt like hell but I stood to my full height. “…that I’m not messing with her. I want to help, and I want to be her friend.”
“Friends don’t kiss.”
I forced a laugh. “You sound like her.”
Gabe didn’t join in the laughter. Great, I’d pissed him off again.
“Look.” I crossed my arms and tried to concentrate on anything but the pain in my chest and stomach. “I like that girl. I won’t hurt her. Hell, I won’t even touch her again. I’m not going to steal her virginity. I’m not going to make her promises I can’t keep.”
“How do I know I can believe you?”