Chapter Fifteen - The Ink Diaries

Running was not my forte.

Or any other kind of physical activity for that matter. So, the fact that I had to run on coach's whistle in the scorching heat like my life depended on it made my day just a tad worse.

"Are we just going to ignore the fact that he didn't leave you there?" Meera nudged my shoulder while running next to me. "It was kind of sweet of him."

I scrunched my nose over my best friend calling my enemy sweet. "Are we just going to ignore the part where he did leave me behind?"

"And then he came back," Cheryl added.

"That doesn't matter. His first instinct was to leave me behind. I'm just going with that. He's a monster."

"Come on, Becks. That's a bit much, don't you think?" Meera rolled her eyes.

I scoffed in disbelief, placing a hand over my chest. "Wow. I didn't know your loyalties to me were so fickle, besties."

"You basically tricked him into training you. I'd be more pissed, to be honest." Cheryl shrugged.

"Not you guys defending him, okay? He started everything. I wouldn't need his help if I didn't help him on the stage first."

They exchanged a look, then Cheryl sighed. "Fair enough."

A loud whistle blew and I cringed, turning around to find the coach hyping us up by clapping her hands. "Come on, girls! You can do it."

I bent over, placed my hands over my knees and said breathlessly, "in... a second."

"Come on. One last lap," she shouted louder, lifting her whistle up to her lips. Please no. Please don't blow it again.

"Bathroom break. Be right back," Cheryl said quickly and took off.

"Me too!" I almost followed until the dreadful shriek of that damn whistle rung in my ears again.

"Not together, girls. Go when she comes back, Andrews."

"Come on," I groaned and started running behind Meera, huffing and puffing for air just two seconds into the run.

I must've made it a few meters when I glanced over at the sidelines with my mouth hanging open like a dying, dehydrated bird in a heat wave, and saw my least favourite person—a particular musician—making his way towards the tracks.

Soon I realized he was making his way towards me and I blinked in confusion. What could he want from me? But I wasn't curious enough to stay and find out.

"Oh, hell no!" I picked up my pace, not caring if I was gonna end up passing out on the ground from the lack of air in my lungs. Anything over talking to him.

"Hey!" he called, right behind me.

I ran faster and didn't look back until I was halfway into my lap. I don't know why I was expecting him to run after me but I was glad he didn't.

And when I finished my lap, I realized that he didn't need to. Because he was standing right where he was before, looking a little pissed because I'd made him stand in the sun for about four minutes. It was hard to not notice his dark brown hair glistening as a golden mess under the sun and his annoyingly jacked arms that were folded over his chest as if he was waiting for me to come to him. Like that's going to happen.

Wait, did you say jacked, Becks?

Okay shut up, my inner voice. They were jacked, okay? No point in denying the obvious.

Blinking away, I tried to run past him but he took one giant step sideways to block my way. I could've side stepped him, but he would've done it again and I didn't have the energy for that after all that running.

"Whatever this is, can we do it later? In case you didn't notice..." I sucked in a breath. "I'm a little busy at the moment."

His eyes flicked across me, head to toe, gleaming with savage judgement and I instantly knew what was coming next.

"How many laps did you run? Two?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Just because you are used to running endlessly for no reason thanks to a sport you play, it doesn't mean everyone is. Now cut to the chase. What is it that you want?"

Without wasting any time, he handed me a small piece of paper and I raised a brow at him. "What is this?"

"You'll know if you open it. I'm assuming you can read."

So, I did open it with a sarcastic smile. An address.

"No." I shook my head, giving it back to him. "I'm not showing up at any more random places."

"This is part of training."

I scoffed. "That's what you said about the gig, too."

"And I bet it was a learning experience."

"Sure. If Rebecca had challenged me to set up and pack up musical instruments for a performance."

"You have to start somewhere." He shrugged.

"Look, I'm not showing up, okay?"

He looked around a little bored as he leaned against the track railing and lifted his arms to cross them over his chest again. "You wanna keep going down the same road with me, Andrews. You know I'll make you show up eventually. What's the point of this?"

I was ready to blow a fuse. What the hell did he think of himself?

"I'm not coming," I declared stubbornly.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Fine." He stopped leaning against the railing and took a challenging step towards the building.

"Where are you going?" I demanded, simmering with anger already.

"You know exactly where I'm going. A bit of extra credit goes a long way."

"You..." Grunting, I leapt forward, put my hand on his chest out of frustration—maybe it was the heat and all that running that had me so irritated, or maybe it was just the sight of his infuriating face—and pushed him back against the railing.

"Don't you dare!" I gritted my teeth together.

His eyes averted down to my hand and while I waited for disgust to cross his features, a small smirk curled across his lips instead. "There's really no need to get so handsy with me, Andrews. Or do you just like your hands on me?"

I curled my fingers into a fist but didn't take it off his chest as I snapped, "I never took you for a snitch."

"You can call me whatever you want. I don't care. You know why?" He leaned forward and I clenched my jaw angrily until I felt his hand close around mine on his chest and with one single pull at my wrist, he made me crash into himself. A little gasp escaped my mouth as I stared up at him, surprised. "Because I just realized I can be anything when it comes to screwing you over."

I was too taken aback to react and watched as he let go of me and started walking away even before I had the chance to regroup.

I blinked. What just happened? Why am I flustered? Did I just let my enemy intimidate me and knock me out of my senses?

I stared at his retreating figure, angry and confused at the same time, stubborn and on the verge of giving in at the same time, until I arrived at a conclusion and decided that this was the last time I was letting him take control of my actions like that. For one last time for the sake of peace, I'd let him. But that was it.

"Wait," I called out with a defeated sigh.

He did not stop, only said over his shoulder, "Just show up at the address at 4 p.m.."

Fuck you, Williams.

*****

"Seriously?" I blinked.

"Seriously." He nodded.

The loud wailing of a child hogged my attention. He was desperately pointing towards the cotton candy, begging his mother to buy him that and she seemed a little annoyed by his tantrum as she finally agreed. And he stopped crying.

Then I allowed myself to take a good look at the big signboard ahead of us, which read 'Hutton's 9th Annual Carnival'. Then I turned to Matt in disbelief.

"You're joking."

He chose to ignore that and started walking towards it, seemingly in a good mood for a change.

"What the fuck, Matt? What does a carnival have anything to do with music training?"

"You'll find out."

"Do you have another gig here?"

"Do you see my team and instruments?"

Cursing under my breath, I followed him inside. There were many stalls and most of them were selling different types of fabrics with unique, beautiful prints. There were clothes, bedsheets, handkerchiefs and so on. There were food stalls too and a few game stalls as well.

"This is the one," I heard Matt say.

I realized we'd just walked up to a woman. She was a plump, middle-aged woman with dark red hair that was trimmed up to a bob cut, and she had big, scary eyes. Maybe the reason why I found them so scary was because she was eyeing me with them.

And that's when I realized Matt was talking about me.

"Will she be able to handle it?" She raised a brow, still scrutinizing me carefully.

"Why don't you find out?" He lifted a hand towards me in an all yours gesture and I just blinked at him.

"Okay then. You follow me." The woman pointed towards a tent right behind her.

"Just give me a minute." I held up a finger and grabbed my enemy's arm to drag him to the side, a little thankful that he decided to cooperate for once. In fact, he seemed to be looking forward to it.

"What is this?" I demanded.

"A carnival."

"Don't mess with me, Williams. What the hell am I doing here and who is that woman? Are you like selling me or something to...to..." I struggled, looking around. "What is this, again?"

"You're volunteering."

My eyes narrowed. "How did that happen?"

"I signed you up."

I wanted to kill him. "For what?"

"Inking fabrics for sale. Money goes to charity."

"What?" I blinked. "Can you just tell me what the hell is going on?"

"You know how I spilled that ink on you?"

I crossed my arms, giving him a pointed look. "Yes, I remember quite vividly."

"Well, that ink bottle belonged to my friend Chris. He's been collecting different kinds ever since he was a kid. And he was really upset about that bottle."

"And?" I snapped.

"And that's why I'm going to get it for him today."

"Through volunteering?"

"No. Through an auction."

"Oh?" I scratched my forehead in confusion. "What does it have anything to do with me volunteering with ink painting?"

"Nothing."

"So why the hell am I supposed to do it?"

"Because I signed you up for it." He shrugged. "I just thought it would keep you occupied while I got the ink."

I shot him an incredulous glare. He could not be serious. "Or you could've just not brought me here."

"Why would I not? You're the reason the ink is gone."

"I—" I struggled to speak for a moment in disbelief. Then I said slowly while glaring at him, "I'm going to kill you."

"For now, you need to do some painting."

"Wait! This doesn't have anything to do with music training. You lied again, you asshole."

Why was I even surprised at this point?

"Not exactly. You see, I can't put my best into your training while my friend is upset with me. I'll just get him his ink back, make sure we're good and then we can get started with your training." He smiled bitterly.

Bullshit

"Right. You expect me to believe you have enough feelings to care if someone is upset with you. You're not fooling me." I scoffed, making his eye twitch for a hot second but he was always quick to recover. Obviously. He just didn't care enough about anything. "I know you've just brought me here to make me suffer."

"Really? I have no idea what makes you think that." He shrugged, eyes clearly stating otherwise.

"You know what?" I stepped up to him. "Get out of my face."

He smirked, pulling out his sunglasses and putting them on. "Gladly. I have an auction to attend anyway."

With that, he walked away.

"Are you coming?" the woman called impatiently, her hand resting over her hip.

"It's for charity." I sighed to myself, then shrugged at her. "Why the hell not?"

"Uh uh!" She held up a hand right before I could walk inside the shady tent. "Shoes and socks, off. Some fabrics are very delicate. And put these on so you don't get ink on your hands." She handed me a pair of surgical rubber gloves.

"I feel like I'm entering a crime scene." I kicked my shoes away and tucked my socks in them before putting on my gloves. "Let's do this."

We entered the little tent and there were two other volunteers already at work. One was a little girl who was about seven and the other was a boy about twelve. It was probably her older brother or just a friend but I could tell they definitely knew each other.

The moment I stepped inside, a strange smell crept up straight through my nose to what seemed like the very last nerve of my brain. It was so strong, I thought I was going to pass out.

"Oh my God. That smell." I crinkled my nose.

"Do you need a mask? Some inks smell pathetic," the woman offered but I could tell she was hoping I would say no as she scowled at me.

"I'm good," I said, sitting down on the floor next to the kids.

"Great. You'll get used to it like the kids."

"I don't find it so bad." The little girl's head perked up. "I actually love it."

"Good for you." The woman smiled but I saw the sarcasm behind it as she rolled her eyes and walked out.

"So how did you guys get stuck here?" I asked.

"She's our nanny," the boy drawled. So, him and the girl were siblings. "She asked our parents if she could take us volunteering. They never bothered to ask what it was. I wish they did."

"I'm sorry." I chuckled. "What are your names?"

"I'm Carter and she's Eden."

"Nice to meet you guys. I'm Rebekah."

"Hi, Rebekah," Eden greeted me brightly and I smiled.

Over the next two hours, they taught me everything there was about ink painting. From leaving ink blotches and using a blower over them to making random patterns that just somehow looked nice. They must've been good at art beforehand or at least, Carter was. Eden was just following his lead.

The woman kept checking on us occasionally and spewing orders like she was the boss of us. During her second visit, I decided I hated her when Eden enthusiastically showed her the t-shirt she'd just painted on and she dismissed her with a wave of her hand.

"How long have you guys been up to this?" I asked after her third visit.

"She brought us here straight from the school." He stifled a yawn.

"I know it's volunteering but is she personally paying you for this? She better be paying you."

"No." Eden pouted. "But I like doing it. But I also wanna go home now. I'm so tired."

Right when I opened my mouth to respond, I sneezed. The ink was getting to my head.

"Sorry." I sniffled. "Then just tell her that."

"I did. At 4 p.m.." Carter rolled his eyes. "I'm so getting her fired once we get home. I just wish I hadn't forgotten my phone at home."

"Why didn't you just say you needed a phone?" I took off my gloves, pulled my phone out and flashed it at him. "Ta-da."

"About that." He scratched the nape of his neck and admitted awkwardly, "I don't remember my parents' phone number."

"What?" I spat. "Who doesn't know their parents' number?"

"In my defense," he struggled, crossing his arms defensively. "I've had a phone since I was five. Never needed to memorize it. Besides, who remembers phone numbers anymore?"

"I do." Little Eden's head lifted up.

"No, you don't." He rolled his eyes.

"I do," she pressed, a little upset over her big brother's dismissal. "Dad made me memorize his number in case I got into any trouble."

"What? Are you serious? Why didn't you say that before?"

"You didn't ask." She shrugged and went back to painting.

He deadpanned, pointing down to my phone. "I think it's worth a shot."

"Sure." I passed my phone to him. Eden started dictating the number she had memorized by heart and once the line connected, her brother was actually surprised when his dad answered. He told him everything. And when he hung up, he let me know they were on their way to pick them up.

"Good." I nodded.

We finished inking another set of t-shirts while chatting and after about half an hour, their parents arrived, thanked me and the kids were finally free. "Bye, Rebekah." Eden waved at me.

"Bye." I waved at them sadly. Go enjoy your freedom!

It was 7 p.m. already. I wondered if Matt was still at the carnival or had left after getting the ink. Either way, I was going to head home after hanging the freshly inked t-shirt outside for drying and letting that lady tormentor know I was done.

I picked up the t-shirt and walked out of the tent. Standing up on my tip toes, I clipped one end on a rope and spread it out, then clipped the other side.

"Having fun?"

I didn't need to turn to know who it was. I could tell by the humour in his voice how much he was enjoying it all.

"Look at this..." I held up my inked glove at him the moment I turned around. "...and choose your next words very carefully."

"I'll take that as a no." He sipped from a to-go coffee cup, its heavenly aroma instantly reaching my nose. I could really use some coffee to cure my ink induced headache.

My eyes started searching for a coffee stall and caught my enemy eyeing the t-shirt I'd just put up for drying instead.

I knew he could tell I was watching because of the impish look in his eyes when he pointed at the cloth and remarked, "you missed a spot."

"Oh yeah? How about I get that spot on your face? Wipe that annoyingly..." I flashed my glove at him again as he beheld my misery with bright eyes. "...smug, little look off it."

Smiling sourly, I went back inside the tent to put back the extra clippers and noticed the t-shirt Eden had finished painting on but had forgotten to give me for drying because she got too excited to see her mother. Shaking my head with a chuckle and sneezing right after and sniffling, I carried it back out with me.

I was surprised to find that my enemy was still there. He'd just finished his coffee as he tossed the cup in a bin nonchalantly while checking out the rest of the t-shirts. I put up Eden's as well.

"Let me guess." He stepped closer. "You did this, this and..." He pointed towards the second from the right. "...this."

"How can you tell?" I raised a suspicious brow.

"How old were those kids, again?"

"That's not the answer to my question."

"I don't think you'll like the answer." He clicked his tongue. "But that's exactly why I'm gonna tell you. Those kids did a lot better job than you. Just out of curiosity, can you stay within the lines while colouring now or kindergarten simply couldn't teach you a damn thing?"

I crossed my arms, glaring at him.

In my defense, I had the worst kind of headache from the ink and couldn't focus properly. So, while I'd tried my best, I'd still kinda botched the t-shirts. But it could easily be passed for random pattern and be ignored. But not by my enemy, of course.

"You..." I let out a breath. "You have some nerve. Really, I mean it. God! I hope you didn't get that stupid ink in that stupid auction. My day will suck just a little less."

"Nope. Won it."

I scoffed. "Newsflash. Winning an auction is nothing to be proud of when you have tons of money."

He shrugged with a smirk.

"It's not like you worked for it," I snapped, then coughed into my sleeve. That damn ink. "It's not like you painted on like twenty fabrics..." Cough "...because a scary woman was breathing down your neck. Believe me when I tell you, Williams, you are the most insufferable—"

I almost walked back into the tent to check one last time if all the fabrics were out for drying when he grabbed my arm and dragged me back in front of himself, staring down at my face with a little frown.

"You're not wearing any makeup today, are you?"

I yanked my arm free, annoyed. "I never do, except when I'm going to parties or something. Where are you getting with that?"

"You look—"

"I've been volunteering for a good cause but under a very demanding and mean woman for the last three hours after a very long school day. If you tell me I look miserable, so help me God, Matt, I will kick you back to hell because that's the place you somehow crawled out of, seeing the kind of shit you've—"

"What are you doing out here?" I heard a loud shrill and cringed, turning to the woman nearing us. She'd probably just finished eating a corn dog as she discarded the stick in the trash while walking up to me.

"I just put those t-shirts up for drying." I pointed back with my thumb.

"They look good and... well, you're doing great." She nodded plainly, not even trying to look impressed. At least she didn't see any problem with them. I sneered at Matt but he was busy scowling at the woman. "Now get back to work, please. How are the kids doing?"

"They left," I replied.

"Left?" She gasped. "How? With whom? Oh my God!"

"Their parents showed up. They told them how you've been overworking them for your personal benefit. Just a quick heads-up, I think you're gonna be fired as their nanny."

A look of horror fell on her face. "How? They didn't have a phone and they didn't even know their parents' numbers."

"Eden did. So, I gave them my phone. Sucks to be you."

"What is wrong with you?" she snapped, her eyes becoming wide. "Your job was to paint fabrics. Not mingle in my business. How dare you?"

"What?" I blinked, eyes almost rolling to the back of my head in exhaustion. "Who the hell do you think you are talking to me like that? You're not my boss. I'm a volunteer, not your fucking employee."

Glaring at me, she took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly, composing herself. "Fine. Forget it. I need you to get back to work now. I was expecting ten more t-shirts to be finished today but with the kids gone, I need you to finish them for me. Get to it. Now!"

"What? That's ridi—"

I was cut off when another fit of cough hit me and at the same time, somebody stepped between us.

"What the fuck did you just say?" my enemy demanded in a low voice and I assumed he had to be giving her his savage icy glare to make a grown woman shut up and falter like that.

She blinked at him, then frowned, saying in a much calmer tone than the one she was using with me, "that she has to finish the rest for me since she made the kids leave."

"I think she's done enough. So did the kids. How about you get to work instead of uselessly wandering around the carnival and barking orders at them?"

She narrowed her eyes. "I'm the coordinator. And you signed her up for this volunteering."

"I don't care. And I'm signing her out now."

Her face contorted into a glower. "You can't do that. She has to complete the job."

"Oh yeah? Watch me." He turned to me, looked at my face for a moment, scanned me up and down before his scowl deepened. "We're leaving."

Needless to say, I was surprised and I waited for the twist. Waited for him to laugh in my face and usher me back to the woman, saying something like I was kidding. She's all yours.

In that case, I would've flipped them both off before leaving. But that didn't happen. This was happening. My enemy was taking my side, even defending me. What was wrong with him?

Either way, despite my pride, this was the one time I wasn't gonna tell him to fuck off.

I sneezed into my sleeve in response, then sniffled. "Damn right."

"Put on your shoes."

"I just wanna leave." I removed my gloves in frustration and chucked them into the nearest bin.

"Fine."

To my surprise, he picked up my shoes in one hand and grabbed my arm with the other, and started guiding me through the carnival. I wanted to yank my arm free again but, in that moment, when I felt like I was on the verge of passing out, I didn't mind being shown the way, even if it was by my enemy.

When we made it to the parking lot, he stopped a few feet away from his car.

Right! Obviously, I wasn't riding with him.

"I just need to collect the ink. My payment cleared a while ago and I've texted them I'm waiting in the parking lot. It'll be a few minutes," he told me and all I could do was nod absent mindedly. Why was he telling me that?

I pulled my phone out and clicked the screen several times, squinting when it became a little blurry. If I booked a cab then, I wouldn't have to wait for it alone.

I felt his eyes on me but I was too exhausted to demand what it was now.

"What are you doing?"

"Booking myself a cab," I replied with half a mind.

Open app. Click. Put in address—"Hey!" I complained when my phone was snatched out of my hands by my annoying nemesis. Could he not let go of one single opportunity to mess with me?

"What are you doing? Give it back." I snapped, then coughed into my sleeve.

"I'll drop you home. It's fine."

I must be hearing things. I blinked at him.

"Yeah right, I totally believe you. Just give me my phone back, Matt. What are you trying to do with it?"

With a straight face, he flashed the screen at me and locked my phone so he couldn't use it.

Wait, what did he do that for when he had the perfect opportunity to delete that picture of him and that cheerleader and just mess with me in general?

I licked my lips. "You actually mean it? You don't have to. I can manage. Just give me my phone back."

He rolled his eyes and put it in his pocket. "Stop being stubborn."

What was he planning to do? Strand me halfway home? Murder me?

Or could it be... that he was just feeling guilty because I'd gotten sick after volunteering for something he'd signed me up for? No. Since when did he feel anything, let alone guilt?

I considered his offer, realizing that I was kind of thankful anyway. I could fight him later when I was feeling a little better. "Fine. I'll go with you. Can I have my phone back now?"

"You can have it in the car."

"What do you think I'm gonna do? Run away?"

"I won't be surprised," he said nonchalantly while looking around.

"Fine."

I wanted to ask why the hell he suddenly cared but I could see it turning into another argument and I didn't have enough energy.

I shut my eyes and ran my fingers through my hair, sniffling again. My head was throbbing. I was catching a bad cold; I could feel it. I hated it. My cold was always extreme.

"Here," I heard Matt say and opened my eyes to find him holding out his keys. "Go wait in the car and don't touch anything."

Is he feeling right in the head? I'd half expected him to leave me at the carnival to fend for myself after knowing that I was sick. How was he letting that opportunity pass?

"It's fine. I'll wait."

It looked like he wanted to argue but did not. He shoved his keys back in his pocket and went back to waiting for the ink.

My eyes were closed in exhaustion and I probably would have fallen asleep standing if I didn't feel something on my face right then.

Something warm touched my forehead and I opened my eyes. When I saw it was Matt's hand, my eyes widened and before I had the chance to smack it away or step back, he withdrew it. "You have a fever."

"Really? Thanks. I didn't feel it." I rolled my eyes.

"You can wait in the car."

"No, I'm—"

"Stop being so stubborn and wait in the damn car." He pushed the key towards me, leaving no room for argument.

"Fine!" A little annoyed, I grabbed it and started walking towards his car. "Did I ever tell you that you are the most annoying person on this planet?"

"Yes."

"And I'm stubborn? Have you met yourself, you unbeliev—ow fuck!" I yelped in pain when something sharp pierced my foot. I lost my balance but before I could fall, a pair of arms circled around me. I fell helplessly against my enemy, shaking my foot violently in hopes it would get rid of whatever it was. "Ow ow! It hurts. It hurts. What is that?"

I was on the verge of tears. It hurt so bad, it almost felt like being stabbed in the foot.

Thankfully, we were very close to the car and he quickly unlocked it and seated me in the passenger seat with my feet sprawled out on the ground. Then he kneeled in front of me.

"What the fuck is that?" I cried out he lifted my foot up to get a look. I could've been mistaken but all colour drained from his face as he just stared at it blankly. And I started freaking out.

"Wh-what is it?" My voice wavered as I blinked back tears.

"It's glass." He seemed a little unsettled. He wasn't blinking.

"Pull it out. What are you doing?" I snapped.

He was still as a stone as if he couldn't hear me.

"Matt!" I threw my head back, holding back inevitable tears of pain. It hurt like a bitch. "Matt, I know you love watching me suffer but goddammit, it hurts. Pull it out," I shouted.

He blinked as if he'd just snapped out of something and looked up at me with a look I couldn't decipher. Then he exhaled sharply and nodded.

"Shit!" I cried out as he drew the huge piece of glass out of my foot in one quick pull and hurled it away. God knows how I didn't see it while walking.

Then he rushed to the boot of his car and dashed back with a first aid kit while I tried to steady my breathing.

"It's fine. I can do it," I muttered, reaching for the kit.

He ignored it and I watched as he started cleaning the wound with cotton carefully before uncapping a bottle of disinfectant I was way too familiar with.

"No! Not that. It hurts so much. It already hurts so much."

I tried to pull my foot in the car but he grabbed my ankle in a tight grip, lifting his eyes to my face. "Stop it."

Taking in a shaky breath, I nodded slowly.

"Fuck!" I cursed, biting down at my fist when he poured the burning liquid on my wound and cleaned it with fresh cotton. I buried my face in the seat and just breathed, holding back tears.

It'll pass. It'll pass. For the sake of dancing Teletubbies, don't fucking cry, Becks. It'll pass.

For a second, I felt his thumb brush against my ankle and I opened my eyes. He looked up at my face at the same time, fingers probing my foot gently. "Do you feel any pain anywhere else? There could be more glass shards."

"No." I swallowed, unable to trust my voice. I hated the fact that he'd just got to witness me at my weakest. But he didn't seem to be rubbing it in my face or looking like his arrogant self. So, I felt a little less shitty about it.

I shook my head. "There isn't any more glass. It was just that big one."

He nodded and reached for the gauze, placed it over the wound and carefully started wrapping my foot up with bandage while I just watched him weakly, finally letting it register that he was helping me.

I couldn't make sense of the situation. But by the time he was done, I was too exhausted to think about it. My eyelids were drooping of their own volition.

"Oh God!" I exhaled, pulling my feet in the car and leaning against the seat.

I watched with half open eyes as Matt cleaned up and threw the bloody cotton, along with the giant piece of glass he'd thrown away earlier, in the bin. And all of a sudden, I was getting cold shivers down my spine.

I don't know when I passed out from weariness but when I came around, the car was moving and it was warm. It felt nice. Is that the heater? Something's definitely off with my enemy today.

I turned slightly to look at him and right then, he wiped off a sweat trail along the side of his face with his thumb. No way this is real. I'm hallucinating.

The next time I opened my eyes, the car had come to a stop and I looked out of my window at my house. He'd actually brought me to my house instead of dumping me out of his car in the middle of nowhere.

I weakly began to open the door but it was pulled open by Matt. When did he even walk over to this side? I must have been really tired. He leaned over me, unbuckled my seatbelt, grabbed my shoes and just as I started to move, he picked me up too. His scent completely washed over me and I shut my eyes, inhaling.

What is going on?

I was being carried to my house by my enemy and I didn't know what to make of it. Why the hell wasn't I telling him to put me the fuck down? Maybe because I was too weak for it. But I did want him to put me down, right? No, I did not. Why wasn't I disgusted? Why wasn't he disgusted?

Okay, easy Becks! These fever thoughts don't count. You're not thinking straight.

"Something was in that ink, wasn't it? I breathed in it for too long. I'm totally tripping, aren't I?" I chuckled.

At this point, I'd completely convinced myself that this was a dream. Ever been in a situation where something seemed so unreal that you start to believe you're drunk even though you don't remember taking a sip? This was that situation and I tried to recall if I'd actually taken a drink or some foreign substance.

I did take a shot though. No wait, that was yesterday.

Matt looked down at me and there was something different in his eyes. Something I couldn't read. Something that made me narrow mine.

"Don't you dare," I warned weakly.

"What?"

"Don't you dare drop me on my ass."

One side of his mouth raised slightly in amusement and he looked normal again. He hadn't seemed like his usual self in the past few...minutes?

"Why would I pick you up in the first place?"

"To drop me on my ass."

A little smirk curled across his lips. "On second thought..." His grip started to loosen. My eyes grew wide as I grabbed his t-shirt and clung onto him for dear life in a moment of panic. But then I realized what I was doing and I let go.

"You know what? Do it. I'd rather take the fall," I said, preparing myself to land on my ass.

But that didn't happen.

He looked ahead and I couldn't see his face anymore. Just his jaw. That sharp cut jawline that seemed too perfect to be real. Wait, what? Oh, it's okay, Becks. It's just a dream. You can only admire your enemy in your dream.

"Ring the doorbell." His voice shook me out of my unhinged thoughts.

"What?"

"My hands are full. You have to ring the doorbell unless you have a key."

Do I have a key? I looked sideways in confusion and pressed the doorbell. A minute later, I heard Mrs. Brooke's voice.

"Oh my God! What happened to her?"

"She's got a fever and probably a cold too."

"Oh, poor thing. It must be her seasonal allergies." I felt her touch my cheek.

"I think it happened because of an ink. Is she allergic? I can take her to a doctor."

I can take her to a doctor.

Didn't people do that for someone they cared about? Nope! Don't go there, Becks. If anything, it's guilt. Go to sleep.

"No, it's fine. It's nothing I haven't handled before. Why are you holding her shoe—oh my God! What happened to her foot?"

"She stepped on glass. I cleaned her wound. It didn't look like she needed stitches but you can get it checked out."

"No more piercing me," I muttered, not even sure if either of them heard it.

"Please come in, Matt," Mrs Brooke said with a hint of panic and mostly concern in her voice.

And we were in my house now. I stared up at the ceiling with half open eyes. We were now going up to my room. And then I was put in my bed and somebody tucked me in my covers. Now that had to be Mrs. Brooke. Just her, not my enemy.

"You brought her home, Matt. That's really nice of you," Mrs. Brooke said and she sounded very close when the final tuck happened, which meant she was the one who'd put the covers on me. I sighed in relief.

"No problem," the voice came from afar, like he was nearing the door.

"I'll just get her medicines."

"Sure. I was just leaving."

"Wait," I mumbled and Mrs. Brooke looked between us before giving him a little smile and walking out.

"What?" he asked, taking just one step forward.

"I..." I sighed. "For bringing me home, Matt, I wanna say—"

"I know. You owe me." He nodded.

"No." I inhaled. "Thank you."

With that, I crumpled the covers under my chin and tossed over to the other side.