Save Me

I drummed my fingers against the mattress that I was laying on restlessly, silently begging Tryce to just hurry up already and come and get me before I slowly went insane due to lack of seeing nothing but the color white. I hate hospitals, I really do. They smell bad and they basically signify death in my eyes. They're so willing to bandage up the injured then they slap a crap load of bills onto you since you were in need of their expert services. Ugh. I just really hate hospitals.

I tilted my head back against the scratchy pillows as an uncomfortable groan broke free from my throat, resonating throughout the quiet and lonely hospital room. I called Tryce over fifteen minutes ago! Forgive me for my impatience, but I really just want to get out of here! This hospital makes my dad's house look like a gift from God!

A low, throaty yet extremely amused chuckle coming from the direction of the doorway quickly floated to my ears, making me jump slightly since it was very unexpected. My head tilted to the side and I immediately noticed Tryce leaning against the doorway to my hospital room, arms loosely slipped into the front pocket's of his worn down jeans.

"Well, don't you look like a little ball of sunshine," he said around one of his infamous smiles, his pearly white's standing out against his tanned skin beautifully.

"Hospital's fucking suck," I explained in a grumble, crossing my arms over my chest childishly as he slowly walked over to my hospital bed, tapping his hands in an unknown beat against the metal railing.

"So, what's the verdict?" He asked as his eyes blatantly scanned my body, searching for any bandages besides the quite obvious one on my foot.

"Nothing's wrong," I muttered. "They took the glass out and said to keep it wrapped while I walk around for a bit so that I don't get anything in the wound. Otherwise, it's as if nothing happened."

"You got lucky," he said matter-of-factly.

"I have to walk around with a fucking bandage on my foot," I shot back, staring at him. "How is that lucky?"

"You could have died out there," he said simply, his eyes slowly hardening, going from their once light and carefree shade of blue to a dark, almost sinister and unforgiving shade of blue. It was so unlike the boy that I used to know, the boy that I used to call my best friend, and I can't help but feel uncomfortable and unwanted goosebumps slowly arose on my pale arms.

"Well, I didn't," I muttered indignantly, throwing my legs over the edge of the bed and standing up, starting to walk. The doctor's gave me painkillers that allowed me to walk regularly, probably with a slight limp once they wear off. "You saved me," I reminded him as he eventually fell into step besides me, though it was obvious he was walking quite slowly as not to go ahead of me.

He just grunted, his mind wandering as we continued to walk towards his Impala. He's hiding something from me, keeping secrets, and I can honestly say that I don't like it. Sure, I haven't talked to him for about nine years, but it still hurts to know that your old best friend is keeping things from you. We've both changed, but we couldn't have changed that much... right?

However, one thing is for sure, and that is that the ride back to my dad's house is going to be awkward as fuck.

*

I couldn't help but chuckle a bit as I watched Tryce's mouth drop in amazement once we pulled up to my father's house. It's quite obvious that it really is a huge and beautiful house. It's too bad that the two people that it belongs to are both such ugly and hideous monster's, both on the inside and the outside.

"Can I see the inside?" Tryce asked me excitedly, parking his car before jumping out and walking towards the front door.

"No!" I screamed, eyes widening the second I realized how bad it would be to let Tryce see what my home life was now like. Plus, I can't have my father figure out that I have been out of the house most of the time when he thinks I'm just holed up in my room, shying away from the sunlight. "The maids are... cleaning it," I muttered, my eyebrows knitting together as I struggled to come up with an excuse, becoming somewhat proud of myself when I realized that it didn't suck all that much and was actually pretty realistic.

"Oh, well can I see it another day then?" He asked hopefully, walking over to the bench that was in the garden on the side of the house. There's no way that Patricia could make that garden. It was too pretty and well put together and it obviously took time and effort. God forbid Patricia had to get down on her knees and dig around in the dirt, though she's probably no stranger to having to get down on her knee's.

"Why don't we go in the garage or something?" I muttered. "I can practically feel my skin burning off of my body."

"You're so pale," Tryce said around a chuckle, but he chose to follow me nonetheless, stopping and staring in awe at the first car we walked up to. "Your Dad... drives a lambo..." He said, eyes widening to the point that I thought they would pop out of his head.

"He gave it to me," I muttered, slapping the hood lightly as I walked to a couch that was conveniently placed in the corner of the garage, next to a refrigerator full of beer and other things one would want when going out to the beach.

"You have to take me for a ride one day!" He said excitedly, coming to sit by me.

"If ya earn it," I shot back, peeking at him slightly as I hesitantly picked my injured foot off of the ground, slowly slipping it onto his lap so that I could stretch it out.

He sighed before clasping one hand on my ankle, the other resting comfortably in the middle of my shin as his fingers drummed random patterns against my muscled legs. "You're so thin, but you got muscles," he observed.

"Football," I muttered as if that explained everything in the world.

"You always used to be obsessed with football," he mused, his eyes glazing over as he remembered the old times we spent together.

"I'm a captain this year," I said proudly.

"That's awesome," he said around a smile. "Though you don't look like the typical jock," he observed.

"I don't look like the typical Floridian, but here I am," I muttered, raising my hands in the air.

"Yeah. Most Floridian's know how to swim too."

"I never learned! Sue me!" I defended.

"You can't go back into the water without learning how to swim, Morgie," he said seriously, using my old nickname. I wanted so badly to tell him to stop, but the way my old nickname rolled off of his tongue didn't hesitate to make me smile and send pleasant shivers down my spine. "I can teach you if you want me to," he continued.

"Maybe," I agreed. The truth is, I really have no desire to learn how to swim, but it would get me closer to Tryce and who wouldn't want that? I mean, the years have certainly been kind to him, turning him from an awkward little kid to a sexy man that could only be compared to sex on legs. Plus, I could always say that I wanted to rekindle our friendship from the past. He's possibly the only person that I have a chance of befriending in Florida until I turn eighteen. Well, him and Jensen of course.

"Not maybe, yes," he said, staying persistent just like he used to.

I rolled my eyes and smiled at him. "I have to think about it," I murmured. I'd rather save myself the embarrassment, thank you very much.

"Well, while you're thinking about it," he said craftily, shifting in his seat slightly. "Why don't you and your family come to dinner at my house one day? My parent's want to see you again. They miss you..." he trailed off.

"And you didn't miss me?" I inquired playfully, poking him in the thigh with my toes.

He looked up at me seriously, his voice dropping so that it was barely audible. "Of course I missed you, Morgie."

I sighed before looking at him, my eyes trailing over his body as I realized that I really did miss him. As little as we may have been, Tryce was always a better friend to me then any of the people I would call friends now. "I missed you too..." I trailed off awkwardly, knowing that I wasn't all that good with this emotional crap. Having to deal with my mother inching closer and closer to death as each day passes is truly taking a lot out of me.

Tryce shook his head, as if to forget about the tense atmosphere he had accidentally set up. "I have to get going for dinner," he muttered. "My house at six?" He questioned.

I just nodded my head, waving good-bye as he walked to his Impala and buckled himself in, slowly backing out of my driveway as he honked the horn.

Tryce and I had so easily lapsed back into talking to each other as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if we didn't spend practically a decade without speaking to each other. It truly makes me miss all of the old times we shared, but maybe since I'm back, we could make some new memories. He'd be the only thing worth looking forward to this summer.