Page 40 of Heartthrobs Don't Date Wallflowers
I instinctively tried to pull my hand back, embarrassed by how much attention I wassuddenly getting. Zach didn’t let go. He just held on, his grip firm but gentle, like he was quietly refusing to listen to my stubbornness.
“It’s really not a big deal,” I mumbled, though even to me, it sounded weak. I wanted to act like I had it all together, but I couldn’t ignore the sharp sting pulsing through my hand.
“You should go to the nurse,” he insisted, his eyes locking onto mine. His voice was low but unwavering, and there was this intensity in his gaze that made my stomach flip. “That looks like it hurts.”
I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but before I could get a word out, I heard a voice from nearby.
“She’s fine, Zach,” a girl said, her tone dismissive. I didn’t recognize her, but she looked like she might have a been a senior, probably in some of Zach’s classes. “It’s just a little bruise.”
Zach didn’t even blink. He didn’t spare her so much as a glance.
“We’re going to the nurse,” he said, his tone final, like the discussion was over before it even started. It surprised me how determined he sounded. He wasn’t asking; he was ordering. And before I could find my voice, he’d already started steering me down the hallway.
His spare hand found its way to my back, lightly guiding me through the crowded hall like it was no big deal. But to me, it felt like a very big deal. I was painfully aware of the looks we were getting as we passed by groups of students, and my heart was racingfor reasons that had nothing to do with my hand. The girls who had been hovering nearby exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of disbelief and irritation, as if they were jealous—ofme.
I could feel their eyes burning into my back as we walked away, but Zach didn’t seem to care at all. He just kept moving forward, like it was the most natural thing in the world, only stopping for long enough to make some sort of hand motion at his bandmates. Some sort ofI’m taking this girl to the nursesignal.
“Really, you don’t have to do this,” I mumbled, glancing up at him. “I’m sure you have better things to do than babysit me.”
Zach raised an eyebrow, looking a bit amused but also serious. “It’s not babysitting. You’re hurt.”
I opened my mouth to argue but paused. What was up with him? I mean, we’d barely talked before, and here he was acting all concerned. Part of me wondered if he was just being nice because he felt sorry for me, like maybe I was some charity case he’d decided to help out for the day. I could totally see it—him showing off to his fans how he was rescuing the awkward new girl.
I was suddenly hyper-aware of how I must look—hair a bit messy, cheeks flushed, and Zach still holding onto my injured arm, like he was scared to let go.
Still, every time I shifted my fingers, sharp pain would shoot through them, and as much as I wanted to brush it off, a trip to the nurse was starting to sound like the right course of action.
“Okay, maybe I could use a littlehelp,” I admitted, trying to keep my tone casual. I hated that he was seeing me like this. Hurt. Vulnerable. Embarrassed. But the way he was looking at me—so serious, yet so… kind—made it hard to keep my guard up.
“See? Was that so hard?” he said, his lips twitching into a half-smile that made my stomach do a little flip.
“This is not how I imagined my day going,” I babbled nervously. “I mean, first week at Summerfield, I’ve already embarrassed myself multiple times, and somehow, I’m being escorted to the nurse by Zach from Take Five.” He didn’t laugh, but I could see the faintest hint of amusement in his dark eyes. I took that as a win and a sign to keep going, “So, um, any chance you have a secret identity as a superhero? Because you’re definitely coming to my rescue right now.”
Zach ran a finger of my hand, seeming lost in thought, like he didn’t even know he was doing it. I tried not to hiss in pain because I didn’t really want to stop him.
“Okay, bad joke,” I said. “I’ll just stop talking before I embarrass myself further.”
“Too late for that,” he said, his tone dry but not unkind.
Great, now I was turning into a giggling mess. We passed a few more students and if I had a dollar for every pair of eyes on us, I think I’d be rich by now. Not Take Five rich, but maybe fifty dollars richer.
By the time we reached the nurse’s office, my hand had started to swell, and I was pretty sure at least one of my fingers had turned a lovely shade of purple.The pain was throbbing, but having his warm hand over mine somehow made it bearable. As we reached the door, he held it open for me, and I stepped inside, feeling weirdly out of place. The small room was painted a calming shade of blue, but my nerves were anything but calm.
The nurse looked up from her desk, her eyes widening when she saw my hand. “Oh dear, what happened here?”
“Minor locker injury,” Zach said to the nurse before I could even think of a response. I tried not to snort at how he used my line while the nurse’s brows pinched.
“Pardon me?” she asked.
“The locker slammed closed on my hands,” I clarified.
The nurse tutted sympathetically and motioned for me to sit down. “Let me take a look, honey.”
I perched on the red padded chair beside her desk as she examined my hand. Its leather seat felt foreign, too soft compared to our plastic chairs in class and the antiseptic smell of the room stung my nostrils.
Zach leaned on the door frame, his tall body blocking the entrance entirely like a “no way in” sign as he watched quietly. I expected him to slip out once we got here, abandon me like he was passing the beacon off to the nurse, and his chivalrous act for the day would be done. But he stayed, and even as strange as it was, his presence was somehow calming.
“Just some bruising,” the nurse said after a moment, wrapping an ice pack in a toweland handing it to me. “You’ll be fine. Keep the ice on it for a while, and if it’s still hurting tomorrow, let me know.”
