‹ Prequel: Something To Talk About
Diamonds & Coal
Bitter?
"You know," I said thoughtfully, taking a sip of my frozen, calorie laden drink, leaning casually against the back of my car, "This is exactly how I pictured this happening."
Jon slowly turned to look at me from where he was watching the spectacle with crossed arms and a smirk. On his other side, Brendon, who had never spent much time around me, was gaping in my direction like I was completely demented, extending this expression towards Jon when he let out a hearty chuckle.
“Maybe just with a little less blood,” I shrugged a shoulder, “But then, head wounds do tend to bleed quite a bit.”
“It’s nice to see that you haven’t changed,” Jon clapped me on the shoulder and Spencer came jogging over from the ambulance, winded.
“They say he’s going to be fine,” He managed between gasping breaths, “They’re going to take him in. He cut his head pretty bad. He’s probably going to need some stitches. Only one person can go along in the ambulance, though…”
The three band mates looked at me and I pushed myself away from the trunk.
“Would a game of ‘1-2-3 Not It!’ be totally out of line in this situation?” I wondered raising and eyebrow, but received my answer from the boys’ incredulous stares and gave in, though not without a noticeable eye roll, “Alright, alright. I’m going, jeez…”
“God, unplanned pregnancy makes girls bitter,” I heard Brendon mutter as I sauntered towards the open ambulance, smiling when I heard Jon laugh again.
“Bitter?” He was asking back, “Actually, I think we caught her on a good day...”
About three and a half seconds after I’d told Ryan that I was preggers and that it was his, he had decided the best course of action would be to lose consciousness. First he went white, then a very unflattering pale green, then his eyes rolled back into his head and he melted into a bony pile of Ryan, smacking his head on the bumper of my faithful little Camry as he fell.
“Hi,” He said self consciously, sitting up on the gurney in the back of the vehicle, still holding my old t-shirt to his head as the middle aged paramedic checked his blood pressure.
He looked up at me sheepishly as I climbed in. There wasn’t much extra room in the back of the car, so when I sat down across from him, our knees touched.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” I assured him, gesturing towards the open doors, “I don’t think anyone saw.”
Annoyance flashed over his face and he glanced out into the parking lot where several dozen people had become his captive audience, pointing, whispering and even a prepared few had their cameras and cell phones out, snapping pictures.
“Yeah, right,” He grumbled.
“Oh, who am I kidding?” I laughed gently, “It’s probably already on YouTube.”
The back doors of the ambulance were closed and we began the short trip to the nearest hospital.
“Well, your blood pressure has definitely come back up to normal now,” The paramedic guy told him then glanced at me, “And then some.”
“So, I’m just going to go ahead and take this as a resounding ‘No’ for you being in the delivery room,” I smiled again when Ryan glared, “Seriously. Dude, you went down faster than Paris Hilton in night vision. I don’t think it’s safe.”
“Danya,” Ryan sighed heavily, “Why can’t you just be serious?”
I’d stopped smiling and was trying to busy myself by fiddling with one of the big brown buttons on my coat, “You’re trying to talk to me about what’s serious?”
“Hey,” He whispered, sweetly squeezing my knee, “Don’t be upset. I know this was your cherished S Club 7 t-shirt, but cold water will take the blood stains right out.”
I looked up, surprised for a second, but smiled appreciatively at him lightening the situation.
“It better, man. That shit was signed by Paul and Hannah,” I smirked then shrugged a shoulder, ‘Not that it fits anymore, anyways.”
The paramedic in the back now looked slightly amused by us, and took the t-shirt from him, replacing it with something slightly more sterile.
“So… When did you find out?” Ryan wondered as I took up his hand from off of my knee.
“A couple of weeks after I saw you last,” I admitted and sighed, now feeling horrible for not telling him sooner.
“So, how far along does that make you?” He looked pained by the whole subject, but was clearly asking questions to show me that he cared about the situation.
“You know,” I said reassuringly, “We don’t have to talk about this just yet.”
“Okay,” Ryan seemed thankful, but still let his gaze fall back to our touching knees, “I just… I want you to know that I um, I dunno. I’m just sorry, I guess.”
“It’s alright, it happens,” I shrugged and he glanced up at me in disbelief which made me smile, “Maybe I'm being naive but somehow I just think everything’s going to turn out alright.”
“You sure?”
"No, but hope is all I've got right now," I whispered and it was my turn to glance at our knees, "Don't take that away from me."
Jon slowly turned to look at me from where he was watching the spectacle with crossed arms and a smirk. On his other side, Brendon, who had never spent much time around me, was gaping in my direction like I was completely demented, extending this expression towards Jon when he let out a hearty chuckle.
“Maybe just with a little less blood,” I shrugged a shoulder, “But then, head wounds do tend to bleed quite a bit.”
“It’s nice to see that you haven’t changed,” Jon clapped me on the shoulder and Spencer came jogging over from the ambulance, winded.
“They say he’s going to be fine,” He managed between gasping breaths, “They’re going to take him in. He cut his head pretty bad. He’s probably going to need some stitches. Only one person can go along in the ambulance, though…”
The three band mates looked at me and I pushed myself away from the trunk.
“Would a game of ‘1-2-3 Not It!’ be totally out of line in this situation?” I wondered raising and eyebrow, but received my answer from the boys’ incredulous stares and gave in, though not without a noticeable eye roll, “Alright, alright. I’m going, jeez…”
“God, unplanned pregnancy makes girls bitter,” I heard Brendon mutter as I sauntered towards the open ambulance, smiling when I heard Jon laugh again.
“Bitter?” He was asking back, “Actually, I think we caught her on a good day...”
About three and a half seconds after I’d told Ryan that I was preggers and that it was his, he had decided the best course of action would be to lose consciousness. First he went white, then a very unflattering pale green, then his eyes rolled back into his head and he melted into a bony pile of Ryan, smacking his head on the bumper of my faithful little Camry as he fell.
“Hi,” He said self consciously, sitting up on the gurney in the back of the vehicle, still holding my old t-shirt to his head as the middle aged paramedic checked his blood pressure.
He looked up at me sheepishly as I climbed in. There wasn’t much extra room in the back of the car, so when I sat down across from him, our knees touched.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” I assured him, gesturing towards the open doors, “I don’t think anyone saw.”
Annoyance flashed over his face and he glanced out into the parking lot where several dozen people had become his captive audience, pointing, whispering and even a prepared few had their cameras and cell phones out, snapping pictures.
“Yeah, right,” He grumbled.
“Oh, who am I kidding?” I laughed gently, “It’s probably already on YouTube.”
The back doors of the ambulance were closed and we began the short trip to the nearest hospital.
“Well, your blood pressure has definitely come back up to normal now,” The paramedic guy told him then glanced at me, “And then some.”
“So, I’m just going to go ahead and take this as a resounding ‘No’ for you being in the delivery room,” I smiled again when Ryan glared, “Seriously. Dude, you went down faster than Paris Hilton in night vision. I don’t think it’s safe.”
“Danya,” Ryan sighed heavily, “Why can’t you just be serious?”
I’d stopped smiling and was trying to busy myself by fiddling with one of the big brown buttons on my coat, “You’re trying to talk to me about what’s serious?”
“Hey,” He whispered, sweetly squeezing my knee, “Don’t be upset. I know this was your cherished S Club 7 t-shirt, but cold water will take the blood stains right out.”
I looked up, surprised for a second, but smiled appreciatively at him lightening the situation.
“It better, man. That shit was signed by Paul and Hannah,” I smirked then shrugged a shoulder, ‘Not that it fits anymore, anyways.”
The paramedic in the back now looked slightly amused by us, and took the t-shirt from him, replacing it with something slightly more sterile.
“So… When did you find out?” Ryan wondered as I took up his hand from off of my knee.
“A couple of weeks after I saw you last,” I admitted and sighed, now feeling horrible for not telling him sooner.
“So, how far along does that make you?” He looked pained by the whole subject, but was clearly asking questions to show me that he cared about the situation.
“You know,” I said reassuringly, “We don’t have to talk about this just yet.”
“Okay,” Ryan seemed thankful, but still let his gaze fall back to our touching knees, “I just… I want you to know that I um, I dunno. I’m just sorry, I guess.”
“It’s alright, it happens,” I shrugged and he glanced up at me in disbelief which made me smile, “Maybe I'm being naive but somehow I just think everything’s going to turn out alright.”
“You sure?”
"No, but hope is all I've got right now," I whispered and it was my turn to glance at our knees, "Don't take that away from me."
♠ ♠ ♠
Having a blah day.How 'bout you?