Page 15 of Don’t Look Back
Alright Regina George.
Ryan had made himself nice and cozy in my head, and I couldn’t get him out.
“Well, last time I checked, being a dumbass didn’t cause spontaneous second-degree burns. So what really happened?”
Giving my tongue a break, I bit the inside of my cheek as she continued to wrap the tight bandage around my hand.
“I touched a hot engine,” I confessed. “And not for the first time. If being clumsy were a form of currency, I’d be a millionaire.”
Before she could say anything else, the door swung open and the doctor entered the room, peeking over her shoulder.
“Yikes, that’s gross,” he commented. “That’s definitely infected. I’ll give you some antibiotics.”
“How soon can I get back to work?” I asked, trailing off into a yelp as the bandage was pressed into place. Damn, it hurt. “I’ve already missed a week.”
“You run Coleman’s, right?”
I nodded, feeling queasy after all the fuss. A heavy wash and a thick layer of antibiotic cream later, it was throbbing. A week ago, the blister popped in my sleep. After a few days and a sickly green color tinging my skin, I finally agreed to see a doctor—only after Charlie threatened to drag me kicking and screaming to the emergency room.
“I’d say at least another week; possibly two,” the doctor finally responded. “You don’t want to be around all those chemicals and the grease with an open wound. I can write that up for your dad if you need me to.”
I shook my head. “That’s not necessary. Can you give me anything for cabin fever though?”
The nurse skirted around the doctor to leave, and he offered me a sympathetic grin. “If it gets too bad, come talk to me. We can figure something out for the anxiety. Until then, keep it clean and covered. Come back next week so I can take another look. And get some rest. You look exhausted.”
I mumbled a quiet “thanks,” letting myself out of the room behind him.g
The doctor was right—I was exhausted. After the dream I’d had about Ryan, I relied on Benadryl to knock me out for twelve hours. Aside from that, I hadn’t slept more than a couple hours a night. I couldn’t. Not without replaying that fantasy over and over.
Google didn’t help. Whoever created smartphones must have had investments in insomnia treatments because when I wasn’t trying to sleep, I was only researching: “What is bisexual?” or “How do I know if I like a guy?” Though it didn’t help much. Most of the results were geared toward teenage girls.
Night after night, I tossed and turned, wrestling with my own mind.
The internet was a bad idea for anyone who may be questioning their sexuality. There were so many terms thrown around that I started to wonder if some of them were made up. Gay, bisexual, pan, omni, demi, queer, fluid… None of them stuck with me. No, the only thing that did was the picture of Ryan’s face. More specifically, that crooked grin he gave me when he knew he was riling me up.
I hadn’t realized I was clenching my fist until searing pain zapped through my hand.
As I slinked inside, the only thought I had was getting right into bed.
Though before I could even undress, my stomach rumbled. With a bandaged hand and next to no patience, I settled for cereal.
A knock at the door caught my attention. I found myself torn between wishing it was Ryan, but hoping it wasn’t at the same time. My shoulders dropped when I opened it.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, trudging away from the open door.
“I wouldn’t be here if you’d answer my texts!” Charlie called out, letting herself in. “Stop leaving your phone on silent. You had me worried.”
“There’s nothing to worry about. I’m fine.” I returned to my lunch and Charlie threw herself into the seat next to me, gesturing toward my bandages.
“How’s the hand?”
“Infected,” I told her. I pulled out my phone to show her the pictures I’d taken earlier that morning. “You might want to find yourself some help at the shop.”
“Already covered,” she said, taking the phone from me. “Huh, I didn’t know a burn could turn that color.”
“Me either.”
“Man, you really grabbed onto that engine, didn’t you?”
