47 Things Page 3

  I released a few of those obscenities under my breath as I reached out for the half crutches that I’d hired from the hospital. My bladder was close to bursting, and I needed to make it to the bathroom to relieve myself before I did anything else.

  Balancing on one leg, I managed to get my business done, feeling glad that since it was spring, I had chosen to wear cut off denim shorts to Uni the day before. My knees still stung from the grazes, and my hands weren’t much better. Basically, I was a total mess, and when I finished on the toilet, I flushed and hobbled over to the bathroom vanity where I got the first look at myself since I’d left my apartment the day before.

  My brown curly hair had become a bird’s nest of tangles, and my equally brown eyes had massive dark circles beneath them. My normally heart shaped face appeared pale and dank, and the first thought that popped into my mind was that I hoped I didn’t look this bad when Tyler was here.

  The moment the thought crossed my mind, I frowned and reached out for my electric toothbrush, squeezing some minty paste along its bristles before I brushed furiously at my teeth.

  What the hell did I care if Tyler Lohan saw me looking like shit? Beside the fact he’s nobody to me but an annoying reminder of the worst years of my life, I was never going to see him again. Well, maybe I was going to see him during exams or at graduation, but after that, there was no reason for me to ever cross paths with him again. Besides, he remembered me from Moama, therefore he remembered the girl who was teased for having steel wool hair, four eyes and railroad teeth, and really, it’s probably all he saw when he looked at me anyway. And besides, I didn’t care what he thought of me. He was one of the annoying jocks I didn’t even like. Just because he was nice to me the day before didn’t mean a thing. I just meant that he didn’t want me to sue him for causing me to break my ankle. No one cared what I looked like.

  Securing my hair tight at the nape of my neck, I spat the toothpaste out in the sink and washed it all down the drain before splashing cold water over my face and looking again at myself in the mirror.

  God I hope Tyler didn’t see me looking that terrible…

  Really wanting a shower, but realising I didn’t have anything to cover my cast, I settled for a quick wash at the river before I hobbled into my room and underwent the difficult task of taking off and putting on clothes.

  By the time I stretched a pair of jersey cotton shorts over the top of my cast, I swore I’d never take the fact I can walk for granted again.

  Relieved my cleaning and washing was done for the day, I stood with my crutches and caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of my full-length gilded mirror. I normally loved that thing with its old world charm; it suited my 1920s apartment perfectly, just like all of my rescued furniture did. I’d taken great delight in scouring garage sales and estate auctions to furnish my small apartment perfectly, and I loved it all – especially that mirror. But, when I caught sight of myself, standing there in a pair of leaf green shorts and a purple cast, that mirror mocked me as I realised that I looked just like a Ribena berry.

  I released a little laugh while imagining myself in one of those TV commercials that showed them all dancing and diving into a bottle of Ribena. I knew I should probably change, but decided there was no point when the only person I planned to see that day was the pizza delivery guy. So I stayed dressed as a Ribena berry.

  Leaning forward on my crutches, I headed for the kitchen to get my painkillers and something to eat. My foot was throbbing something fierce, and even though the sun had risen so it was officially morning, I wanted nothing more than to take those tablets and fall back asleep, and preferably, I’d wake up six weeks later when my cast was due to be removed.

  Standing in my kitchen, I watched the toaster slowly do its thing. The smell of crumbs burning wafted up and tickled my nose, reminding me yet again that I needed to pull that little tray out of the bottom and clean it out. It was something I was forever forgetting.

  While I waited with the butter and vegemite sitting on the bench, I decided to pull my phone from my bag and check my notifications to pass the time. There were a couple of emails, one telling me I could get the latest fashion for crazy cheap prices, and another from the lecturer of the class I missed at Uni the day before. He wanted to let me know that he’d heard what happened and that I wasn’t to worry, I was more than ready for the upcoming exams.

  I also had a text message from Janesa, who couldn’t believe what she’d seen.

  Did I srsly just see Tyler Lohan carrying you to his fucking car! WTH is going on????!!!

  Smiling, I typed back a message, even though it was early. I knew she’d have her phone on silent if she was sleeping.

  Broke my foot. He took me to hospital. No big deal. TTYL.

  At that point, my toast popped from the world’s slowest toaster and shot up into the air – I really needed to replace that thing.

  ***

  ON THE first floor of my building, there was a post office, and when I woke in my bed some time later, it was to the sound of a delivery truck’s bleating reverse alert.

  Squinting at the sunlight streaming in through my window, I rolled slightly to grab my phone and check the time. 12:15pm. Time for more pills.

  “Fucking arse,” I groaned, as I moved my aching leg so I could get up. I wished I’d had the foresight to bring the pills and some water into my room before I went back to bed.

  “Hey,” a voice said softly, startling the crap out of me as I turned to find Tyler standing in my bedroom doorway.

  Even though I was dressed in a singlet and shorts, I grabbed a hold of my white sheets and pulled them around me. “What the fuck?” I yelled. “How did you get in here?”

  “Your keys,” he replied simply. “And before you get pissed off, it was an accident – they were in my pocket when I left yesterday, and well, I used them to grab your car from campus. Your friend Janesa told me which one it was. And…” he held up his finger, telling me to wait for a minute as he disappeared from my view then returned with a white bag that had those tell-tale red dots and green banding on it. “She told me you were really into these things.”

  Letting out a sigh, I held out my hand for the bag. “You’re lucky that Krispy Kreme is totally my kryptonite.”

  Grinning, he stepped into my room and placed the bag in my hand before he disappeared again and came back with my painkillers and a glass of water.

  In that time, I’d already eaten half of the chocolate coated, custard filled ball of diabetes.

  “You want some?” I asked with my hand in front of my mouth, holding the doughnut out to him.

  Shaking his head, he set the water and tablets on my bedside table. “It’s all yours, sweetheart.”

  Swallowing what was in my mouth, I rolled my eyes. “What?” he asked, moving about my room and taking in his surroundings. He stopped at my chest of drawers and picked up a little snow globe that I got on a trip to Katoomba a couple of years before.

  “Nothing. You just keep calling me sweetheart – like you can’t be bothered remembering my name or something.”

  He shook the globe and watched as the glitter swirled around the old train from the zigzag railway. “I know your name just fine, Sarah. I suppose I just call you sweetheart because I like you – I feel kind of close to you since we’re from the same town and all.”

  “I thought you said yesterday that I reminded you of before.”

  He placed my snow globe back where it belonged and picked up a brass brooch I picked up at an antique market only the week before. It was only costume jewellery, but I’d thought it was beautiful. He chewed his lip as he played with the clasp on the back.

  “You do,” he said simply before he put the brooch back down and walked toward me. “Do you um…want me to help you to the bathroom or get a washcloth or something? You’ve got all that sticky…” He pointed to my face.

  Not surprised there was food on my face after the speed at which I ate that thing, I snaked my tongue out
and tasted chocolate at the corner of my mouth. “Is that it?” I asked, trying to wipe it away with my fingers as well. Everything was just sticky, so I couldn’t tell. I was like a child at a birthday party.

  He hesitated for a moment. “No, it’s…” He reached out and gently brushed his thumb at the corner of my mouth, my cheeks burned again when I met his eyes. “Got it,” he smiled as he glanced around the room for something to wipe it on but finding nothing; he just sucked the chocolate into his mouth.

  I gulped at him doing something that should be gross but felt really intimate. Then I dropped my gaze and cleared my throat before trying to make a joke out of it. “That was very, um, Hollywood of you.”

  “Hollywood?”

  “Yeah, you know – awkward girl gets food on face, hot guy cleans her up and they end up kissing,” I told him, regretting going down that road the moment the words fell from my mouth. I winced.

  His eyebrows rose up on his forehead. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

  A ridiculous giggle escaped my throat as I shook my head. “No,” I scoffed.

  “Are you sure? I mean, you just said I’m the hot guy, so…” He held his hands out like he was simply arriving at the most logical conclusion.

  “No,” I said with a laugh. “Just no – you’re fine just where you are.” He shrugged as if conceding a point then I reached over and lifted the glass and put the pills in my mouth.

  “Oh, I almost forgot. I brought you something else as well,” he said, disappearing out of my room again.

  As I swallowed my medication, I watched the door, waiting for him to return, and when he did, he was brandishing a packet of Glad drawstring garbage bags.

  “Garbage bags?” I asked with a laugh.

  With a grin, he tilted his head to the side. “Yeah, to keep your cast dry,” he said, moving down to kneel in front of me.

  I watched him, as he tore the package open and removed a bag before gently sliding it over my cast and securing it at my knee with deft fingers by the red drawstring handles.

  “There,” he said, before looking up at me with those beautiful light eyes of his and a soft smile. Seriously, his beauty hurt my heart. It was wrong for one person to be so good-looking, and be so good at everything he did.

  “I think I’ve always been jealous of you,” I mused, causing him to raise his eyebrows in question.

  “Jealous?” he chuckled, still knelt in front of me. “Why?”

  “Everything just seems so easy for you – friends, school, you know…you’ve just seemed to drift through life with everything going right for you.”

  His mouth curved up in a slight smile that seemed tinged with sadness. “Perception’s everything, I guess,” he commented, reaching out to gently peel back the wound pad that was tapped to my left knee.

  “I suppose it is. And I kind of wanted you to be an arsehole. But you’re not. You’re ridiculously nice. Why are you doing all of this?”

  “I’m the reason you’re hurt,” he said simply, still concentrating on my injuries. “Why don’t you take a shower, and then I’ll help you re-bandage this before I have to take off.”

  “Tyler, you don’t need to. I mean, I get you feel kind of guilty about the gum and all, but that doesn’t mean you need to come around and take care of me.”

  “I know that,” he said, rising to stand.

  I gave him a questioning look, wanting more of an answer than that. Although, he didn’t give me anything, he just walked out of my bedroom then I could hear him in the bathroom turning on the shower for me.

  “I already washed,” I grumbled to myself, feeling kind of weird that he was there and basically taking over my life like the hottest nursemaid ever. And he was completely hot, so hot that he made me nervous. Nervous in a way that caused me to question everything I’d ever told myself about him. I’d told myself he was a self-entitled arsehole. I’d told myself he was only interested in himself. I’d told myself he was the kind of person I’d hate. And it made me feel strange to learn that I was wrong – that I was lying to myself, because just like everyone else who comes into contact with Tyler Lohan, I wanted him to notice me, except he never did.

  If I’m honest with myself, for most of my twenty-one years, I noticed him – everyone noticed him. But, we ran in different circles, both at university and back at home. He was the well-liked jock who was good at school and turned everything he touched into gold. I was his total opposite – the nerdy girl who spent all of her time with her nose in books, and her head in the clouds, dreaming of the day I’d change from the ugly duckling that didn’t fit in, spread my wings and fly away to become a swan in a place that felt more like me.

  When I came to university, I swanned the shit out of my new look, and even though Tyler was there, still being Mr Fantastic, I learned I was happy in my own skin, happy with my new friends and my new life. But, there was always a small part of me that was secretly disappointed that he still didn’t pay me any attention. I’d become attractive, and confident, and I was fun to be around. I’d felt that surely, after all those years of never being friends, the fact that we were the only two people from Moama at the same university and we’d chosen the same degree, surely we’d become somewhat friendly. But we didn’t. I didn’t even think he recognised me.

  I guess that’s why I convinced myself that I hated him so much. But honestly, it was hard to hate the guy that everyone liked. But I persisted, and I did really well until I broke my ankle and was forced to see that he wasn’t so bad at all. In fact, he was pretty darn near perfect from what I could tell – although, it was early days yet, he could have still turned out to be an arsehole.

  “OK, shower’s ready. You need me to carry you, or you got the hang of those things?” he asked, appearing in the door way and snapping me from my thoughts.

  “Oh…um, I’m fine. I can do it.”

  Still a little wobbly, I stood with my crutches and swung my way toward where he was standing in my bedroom door, watching me as if he expected me to go down at any moment.

  “I can do it,” I laughed, seeing his hands jerk when I wobbled slightly. “You’re not going to be around all the time so you have to let me do this.”

  Stepping back, he gave me a wide berth and shifted toward the bathroom where I went inside.

  “Do you…ah…do you need help…um…undressing?” he asked, and I could see his cheeks brighten as he stood in the doorway and didn’t make eye contact with me as I stood in the steam filled bathroom. “I wouldn’t look at anything,” he added quickly.

  “I can manage,” I told him, smiling as I watched him close the door and leave me on my own.

  Taking my clothes off was a hell of a lot easier than putting them on, and even though the water stung as it hit my grazes, it was nice to wash my hair and scrub away all of the grit that was on my body that a wash at a hand river just couldn’t clean away.

  By the time I was done, the water had turned cold, and I was starting to feel a little tired again from the painkillers. So carefully, I shut off the water and wrapped myself in a towel before prying the plastic bag off my leg so I could get dressed again.

  “Ah shit,” I said to myself when I realised I’d forgotten to bring in fresh clothing from my room. But, I just put the clothes I had on before back on since I’d only been wearing them for half the day, needing to sit on the toilet so I could wriggle my shorts back over my cast, being careful to keep the fabric off my grazes as well.

  “Everything all right?” he asked through the door after I’d been in there for a while.

  “Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” I called out from where I was standing in the mirror, trying to swipe some concealer over the dark circles below my eyes. I don’t know why I was worrying about how I looked. In truth, he was only there out of guilt for hurting me, and there was no way anything was going to happen between us, especially when I was in a cast. But, I still added mascara and lip-gloss anyway, and made sure I added product in my hair to tame my curls.

&n
bsp; When I opened the door, he stood up quickly from where he’d been leaning against the benchtop in my kitchen with his arms folded. “Feeling better?” he asked.

  “Yeah, thanks,” I smiled. “The garbage bag worked a treat.”

  He pulled out a chair from my dining table and I hobbled toward it and sat down.

  “Were you standing there the whole time I was in there?” I asked as he knelt in front of me with a red first aid kit in his hand and once again inspected the worst graze on my left knee.

  “I was worried you’d fall,” he commented, leaning forward to blow gently on the open wound. It both tickled and stung, but it was nice all the same and caused a pleasant chill to creep up my body and make me wish I was wearing a bra.

  “God, that would have been embarrassing,” I said with a shake of my head, just imagining the whole fiasco playing out. It made me super glad I had one of those non-slip shower mats.

  “Falling isn’t embarrassing. It’s being unable to get back up that’s embarrassing,” he said, as he opened the kit. Removing a bottle of EDP powder, he popped the cap and shook it over my knee. Orange powder sprinkled out and stuck to my skin. Then, with gentle fingers, he brushed away the excess and added a fresh wound pad to the area, securing it to my skin with tape before moving to the smaller graze on my right knee.

  “That one probably doesn’t need to be covered,” he said with great authority as he put his supplies back into the kit. I assumed it was his, because I didn’t own much more than a box of Band-Aids.

  “Thanks,” I said simply, as he stood.

  “No worries,” he replied, looking around the room again. “So do you want something to eat besides that ball of sugar you had earlier? I can make you some lunch.”

  Shaking my head, I held up my hand. “No. You’ve done enough. Thanks. I can take it from here. I release you, Genie,” I said.