She shakes her head and grips my hand with surprising strength. “Hazards of the job,” she says. But as she shifts her weight, she grimaces.
“I think we should get you to a hospital,” I say.
She pulls her hand away from me. “No no. I’m fine. It’s only a bruise. I’ll live.”
“Luckily.” Millie rescues her from my side. “I can’t believe he did that.”
“It wasn’t on purpose,” I grumble. Well, lesson learned. I’ll never cross Millie again. Which means we will be roommates until the day we die. Until the dayIdie. Since the stress will surely take me first.
I reach into my wallet and pull out my business card and the only bill I have, which happens to be a hundred. “Here,” I hold both out to her. “If you’re still in pain tomorrow, I want you to go to the hospital, and you can call me. I will pay for any fees.”
Even as the words come out of my mouth, they fill me with a new sense of dread. I’ve listened to cases where seemingly simple injuries such as this took years to recover from, costing hundreds of thousands of dollars. What else will I end up paying for before I’m in my grave?
“I’ll be fine,” Patrice insists, rejecting my card and my money. “It’s not my first time falling off that chair.”
Who knew being a nail technician was such a dangerous occupation?
“Probably the first time getting kicked in the face by an idiot,” Millie mutters.
I narrow my eyes. “Thanks, sis.”
She blinks, acting like the queen of innocence. Sisters. Sometimes I feel like this was all some big cosmic joke our parents cooked up to get the two of us under the same roof. What if they never passed but are out there somewhere watching us through hidden cameras, laughing at the situations we find ourselves in?
“Really, it’s fine,” Patrice says again.
“Please, I’ll feel better if you take it.”
Millie takes it for her and sticks it in her apron as she helps her to a chair.
Thankfully, most of the attention is no longer on me. It was awkward enough being the only male in here. Now I’m the only male who kicked and tackled a woman. No wonder there’s a big feminist movement.
Chapter 14
Maddie
The girls ditched me in the middle of volleyball again. For Connor, no less.
But despite what Lyndi says, I still don’t understand why. I mean, he’s attractive to some people, I’m sure. Not that his well-kept beard or broad shoulders do anything for me. And I’m not all that into muscly guys. Especially not the ones who barely work out but still have ridges on ridges; it’s so overrated.
I gather the balls into the bin, using the pump as I go to inflate the flat ones. I take a black Sharpie out of my pocket and put a dot next to the holes of the ones I blow up to see if the same ones are flat Thursday.
At this rate, the girls will be lucky if they have any balls left by the time the season rolls around.
I traverse every corner of the gym and under the bleachers in search of balls. Did the girls leave them everywhere on purpose? Too bad I left my smartwatch on the charger this morning. Now all these extra steps are for nothing.
I can’t figure out why the girls don’t like me. At times it seems like they are having fun, but the second I try to initiate any real conversation, they say two words then effectively kill the discussion.
I asked Callie her favorite subject in school, and she responded with, “None. Duh.”
So…not English.
The gymnasium door slams, and the ball I’m marking ends up with a little lightning bolt instead.
A man struts onto the court. Connor.
He doesn’t say anything as he starts taking down the nets, looking out of place in his white shirt and slacks. The top two buttons are undone, and he’s got the sleeves rolled up, like always.
Even though I appreciate the assistance, I can’t stop the question from blurting out of my mouth. “What are you doing?”
