My Mistake, So Predictable

Hailey’s POV

I was cleared from the hospital the day after the whole Jason incident. At my request, Alex had filed for a restraining order against him. Alex had told me that after he left the room he tried to come back in but someone called Zack had stopped him, giving him a nice sized bruise on the side of his face. I never want to see him again. I don’t know how I could have ever dated an asshole like that in the first place.

There was only one problem about leaving the hospital though; I don’t know where I’m going to stay. Apparently I live with my two best friends, Tabitha and Maxwell, but it would be weird because even though I’ve been talking with them the last two days, I still feel extremely uncomfortable and awkward around them. There’s only one person that I feel comfortable around, and that’s Alex. The moment my eyes had opened, I felt a sort of connection with him. Even though I have no memory of him whatsoever, he makes me feel more at ease than anyone else has been able to the last two days.

So that’s why when Alex offers to have me stay at his home for awhile, I say yes. The doctors were more convinced that I would be better off in my room where my familiar things could bring back memories, but Tabitha had assured them that my room was kept clean of anything close to me. So with everyone’s blessing, I was checked out and instead of heading back to my apartment, Alex drove me to his house; nervously looking over at me every few minutes.

“How do you feel, Hails?” He finally asks, after narrowly running a yellow light because he had been too preoccupied making sure that my seatbelt was tight enough.

“I’m perfectly fine, Alex.” I tell him for the fifth time since we had left the hospital, gently smacking his hands away from the seatbelt that’s now officially choking me. “Now, if you don’t mind, please pay attention to the damn road. I just got out of the hospital and I really don’t feel like dying today.” I say it lightheartedly but his face hardens and he turns away from me, silently finishing the drive to his house.

I have no idea what I said wrong but he seems majorly offended so when we pull into his driveway, I place my hand on his hand that’s putting the car into park.

“What’s wrong, Alex?” I ask, refusing to move my hand until he answers me.

His fingers fiddle beneath mine and his eyes wander out the window, “I just- I don’t want to think about you dying.” Alex says quietly, “The last few days I’ve been terrified, not knowing how you’re going to be. When I saw you fall on the stage I-“He sighs, “I don’t want to think about it anymore.”
“Alex, I promise you I’m fine.” I say earnestly, “Now stop worrying and help me get my damn bags out of the car.”

He chuckles and then removes his hand from mine before flinging open my door, screeching something at the top of his lungs when I move my hand to the handle of mine to open it. That guy’s mental I swear.

-

Later on after I had unpacked my bags and gotten settled in Alex’s guestroom, he had called me down to the living room for a movie and some dinner that he had cooked; well, threw in the microwave but it’s the thought that counts. I had attempted to help him for awhile but after closing the pantry door on my head, Alex had shooed me out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Apparently concussions make you lose your sense of where your body parts are. I have the bruise on the side of my forehead to prove it.

So now here we are later, me curled up at one end of his couch and him spread out on the other. Apparently The Nightmare Before Christmas is the best freaking movie that was ever freaking made according to Alex so that’s what he had put on. Occasionally I laugh at the cheesiness and Alex will give me a fake disapproving look and turn the volume up another notch.

It’s when I’m chuckling at something stupid they’re doing that I feel it and it doesn’t feel good. I sit up quickly my head reeling and nudge Alex who is humming along with whatever song they’re currently singing. He gives me one look and then shoots up off of the couch, grabbing my hand in his and dragging me down the hallway.

I totter for a second uneasily in the bathroom doorway and then I lunge for the toilet unsteadily. My knees hit the tile floor hard, and I brace myself against the toilet with my shaky hands, my heart racing a mile a minute. The doctor had warned me about possible nausea from my concussion but I didn’t take him seriously and I desperately wish that I had.

I gasp as another wave of sickness runs through me, forcing my face back into my porcelain savior. Alex tugs my hair back into a makeshift ponytail with his hand and the other reaches for my lower back, gently rubbing circles to calm me. I didn’t expect him to stay; I figured as soon as I started spilling my guts he would have disappeared.

When he realizes I’m done, he flushes the toilet and places his hands softly over my ears to muffle the thundering noise. “Upsie daisey,” His voice whispers from somewhere above me and then I feel myself being lifted again, but he doesn’t take me to my bed; instead he sits me down on the counter next to the sink and leans my exhausted body against the wall.

“Open.” He commands quietly. Is he? Oh god, he is. He’s brushing my teeth for me.

Without meaning to I can feel my eyes start to water and I rub the tears away shamefully. When had I been such a big baby? Alex notices and he pulls my hand away, dragging his thumb underneath my eyes instead.

“Hailey?” He asks quietly. I know he doesn’t want to ask if I’m okay, not after the incident in the car.

“Why are you so nice to me?” I ask, leaning over so I can spit out a mouthful of mint flavored toothpaste. His hands pull my hair back again and then release it when I sit up again.

“Turn around for a second.” He says without answering my question but I oblige anyway although a bit reluctantly. Alex’s fingers brush through the tangles in my hair for a moment and then I feel him make my hair into a ponytail and then he winds a ponytail holder around it.

“That’s what I mean about being nice!” I say, turning back around when he was done. “Why do you have ponytails just lying around?” I poke his stomach with my finger and he smacks it away playfully. “Don’t tell me you have a secret fetish with dressing up like a girl?”

He blushes, “I wanted to make sure you’d have everything you’d need.” He replies, helping me down from the counter. “And anyway, about the being nice thing,” he pauses, “it’s because I l-“
The doorbell rings, cutting him off.