Page 9 of Brick Wall
Just the thought of it has me anxious.
“Thought so. There’s a picnic bench about thirty feet away,” he tells me, nodding in that direction. “If it’s okay with you, I’m gonna carry you over to it so I can get a better look at your legs. Your injuries.”
“Yeah, sure. Thank you.” My arms loop around his neck on instinct as he cradles me like a child and walks me toward the picnic bench, the flashlight on his phone illuminating the way.
Just my luck, the bench is occupied. I’m craning my neckto see if there’s a flat surface anywhere close or maybe a hole I could crawl into. (I’d take Hottie with me, obviously).
But it turns out I don’t need to hide. Hottie knows the bench-sleeper.
“Hey, Dresden. You good?”
“Brick! Ollie said you were here, but I didn’t believe him. You never come out anymore, man.”
“Yeah, I?—”
“Where’s Ollie? We should do shots. He brought the good stuff.”
Hottie’s nodding. “Funny thing, Ollie actually sent me over here looking for you.”
“Fuckin’ A. Let’s go—” Bench-sleeper stands and that’s when he notices me. “Oh, my bad, dude, my bad. You two carry on. I’ll go find Ollie. I’ll even do your shot, Brick. You know, ‘cause you’re busy.”
“You’re a lifesaver, Drez,” Hottie says, holding back a laugh as he lays me down on the bench while the guy—Dresden, I guess—lumbers off in search of more alcohol.
The tumble I took down the hill must have damaged a few brain cells because all I can think to say is, “Your name’s Brick?”
Hottie laughs. “Nah. My roommate has terrible taste in nicknames. And enough tenacity to try to make them stick. I’m JT.”
“Maggie,” I say as he uses the flashlight to look over my leg. I have no clue if this guy has any medical training beyond reading the back of a Band-Aid box, but he smells good and sounds confident. And right now, that’s enough.
His touch is gentle as he looks me over. “How’s this?” he asks, pressing lightly against the tender skin on my ankle.
“Sore,” I answer. “It doesn’t—ah, yeah. That part hurts.”
“How about this?”
I shake my head. “Not too bad.”
“Okay, I’ve got good news and bad news, Maggie.”
I shouldn’t like the sound of my name on his lips, but I do. Besides, this is my hot guy fantasy. It’s not going anywhere except maybe playing on a loop in my head for the next few days.
“Hit me with it,” I say, wincing as I picture myself waking Uncle Hudson in the middle of the night with a phone call from the ER.
“The bad news is, I’m no doctor. Or nurse. I’m just an exercise science major. But in my non-professional opinion, your ankle’s twisted. It’ll be sore and swollen for a few days, and you should ice it and elevate it, but you’ll be fine by the week’s end. Your shoes, on the other hand? They’re done. You broke the heel on the right one and a couple of straps on the left one. I really hope they’re not your favorite pair.”
I shake my head. “They’re not even mine. They belong to my best friend. My whole outfit came from her closet and she and I aren’t exactly the same size.” As if to emphasize my point, I tug futilely at the hem of the black dress that I’m now convinced is just a long tank top.
JT’s eyes follow my hand, and if I’m not mistaken, there’s heat there.
Then he swears and shines his flashlight again.
“Shit. You’ve got some scrapes on your leg, but I didn’t think much of them. I was more worried about your ankle. Looks like you’ve got a nasty cut, though, and it’s partially covered by a layer of dirt and gravel.”
Of course, I do. Only I would manage to fall down a hill and injure myself in multiple places right in front of the hottest guy I’ve ever seen. “Ugh. Well, I’m just going to hope that Viv’s stocked up on ibuprofen and Band-Aids. And that I can find the sheets. Or at least a blanket. She’s staying the night with her not-a-boyfriend, Jake, so I’m heading back to her place to crash. That’s where I was going when I slipped and fell and landed on my ass. I’m just glad no one was close enough or sober enough to notice. Except you. So, thanks.”
We’ve reached the part in the dream where my alarm’s about to go off and it’s time to wake up. As much as I hate to walk away from Hottie—JT—I should probably make my way back to Viv’s and grab a shower after downing some painkillers.
“You’re welcome,” he says, as he scoops me back up. “Point me in the direction of your friend’s place.”
