Page 92 of To Love or to Lose
He watches me struggle for a few moments before he smirks and puts his hands back to my temples. “Are you finally admitting I am better than you at something?”
If I don’t respond, he’ll stop again, so I agree, “Yes.”
As the minutes pass, I become more and more tired, falling further and further into Jameson’s touch. I don’t know how long it takes before the doctor knocks on the door, but it’s a while.
A while of Jameson helping me. A while of inching closer and closer into Jameson’s hold.
A while of Jameson and I ceasing battle.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The doctor checks Genevieve quickly, flashing a light in her eye to check her pupil dilation and checking her reflexes with a rubber, medical hammer. She concludes Genevieve has no severe brain damage, just a mild concussion.
She informs us that Genevieve is allowed to sleep—it will be good for her—and that she only has a few scratches.
As far as the cut on Genevieve’s forehead, the doctor tells us it isn’t deep enough to need stitches and bandages it up quickly.
The only thing Genevieve cares about is whether she would be cleared to ski in the morning. It’s the only thing she asked the entire time she was being examined.
Any normal person would throw in the towel after getting beat and battered like she has, but Genevieve isn’t a normal person.
This girl never quits.
The doctor answers by saying, “Get some sleep, see how you feel in the morning.” Then, she looks toward me. “Check on her before heading to the slopes. If she’s fully responsive, isn’t slurring her words, or walking crooked, then she should be fine to ski.”
I nod in response as she collects her supplies and walks out the door.
“Are you good?” I sit on the edge of my cot. “Do you need anything?”
Genevieve groans as she lies on her back. “I’m all good.”
Looking back at her, I say, “You owe me for this.”
“What do you want from me other than letting you give the Valedictorian speech? Because that’s not happening.”
“You think I’d ask you to let me win? That would bring me zero satisfaction.”
Her eyes are drooping; she wants to fall asleep. “You don't care about the satisfaction anymore.”
She stretches her arm over to the other side of the bed, attempting to reach for another pillow.
“You have it all wrong, Genevieve. The satisfaction is the only thing I want.” I walk over to the side of her bed, leaning over her fragile body to grab it for her. “Where do you want it?” I ask, holding the pillow.
Genevieve points to her ribs. “Under my side.” She tries to grab the pillow out of my hand.
“Slow down, slow down.” I pull it further out of her grasp. “Don’t worry, I got it.”I tuck the pillow under her side, allowing her to adjust.
“Fuck, my hands hurt.” She groans painfully, looking down at her hands. They’re completely skinned.
“You’re awfully clumsy, huh?”
She grimaces. “Not usually. This rivalry is killing me.”
I suddenly realize what she means. We’ve been so wrapped up in our competition that we haven’t even stopped to consider how much we’ve been harming ourselves in the process.
I sigh, looking up at the ceiling. “I’m clumsy around you too.”
She looks at me with wide eyes, like I’ve proclaimed my love to her.
