Chapter 11
“I’m so, so sorry,” I say, running a frantic hand through my hair. I nod toward Bryce, who’s standing twenty feet away, his back to us while he talks on the phone. “That jackass was supposed to catch the football, then he just walked off to answer his phone after I threw it.”
The girl glances at Bryce. It could be my imagination, but it seems like she grimaces when she sees him. Maybe she’s a victim of his incessant flirting. The idiot can’t let a single pretty girl walk by without hitting on her.
“It’s okay, really,” she says with a shrug. I get the feeling she wants to walk away and get as far from me as possible, but I have to make sure she’s okay.
“Where were you hit? I was looking for Bryce and then heard you cry out and realized I hit you. God, I’m so sorry.”
“Just um, my shoulder,” she says, reaching for her sleeve. She looks over and pushes the fabric aside, revealing the skin below her collar bone.
“Oh, shit,” I say, wincing in sympathy with her. Her skin is all red and scraped like road rash. It’s even bleeding in a few places.
Her eyes widen as she looks at the injury; I’m guessing she had no idea it was that bad.
“Please, let me help,” I say. “Come with me to my store and I’ll get some ice and bandages for you.”
“Oh, I’m fine,” she says, glancing back toward the parking lot. “I was on my way home anyway.”
“It’s the least I can do,” I say, running a hand through my hair again. I’ve already done that, but I can’t help myself. I need something to do with my hands. This girl makes me nervous in the pit of my stomach, and it’s not just because I slammed her with a football. “It’d really help assuage my guilt from hurting you,” I say with a goofy smile that I hope convinces her to come back to the shop with me.
She regards me suspiciously. “What store?” she asks.
“The Flying Mermaid. It’s just right over there,” I say, pointing back toward the strip. “We have a first aid kit with this numbing pain spray,” I say, wiggling my eyebrows to show how enticing my offer is.
She laughs, and it makes her even more beautiful. “Okay, I guess some numbing spray would be nice.”
“Great,” I say, unable to hide my big ass grin.
I really am trying to be a nice human being here, and not a horn dog, but it doesn’t escape my notice that this girl also fits the first two requirements on my list.
Cool it, Josh. You hurt her and now you need to make up for it. Stop imagining her as your girlfriend, you asshat.
I take her in the back door to the shop, the one that leads into the break room. I can hear Dad up front talking to some guy about surfboards. Although The Flying Mermaid closes around seven every night, those hours have always been open to interpretation. If Dad gets caught up with a customer, he’ll stay open until midnight or later.
I shove a beach towel off the bench in the breakroom. “You can sit here,” I tell her, then I grab the first aid kit off the wall.
She sits quietly, holding down her shirt to keep the drops of blood off it. With my hands full of gauze, big bandages, alcohol and the pain spray, I sit next to her and drop all the stuff into my lap.
“You really don’t have to go through all of this trouble,” she says quietly.
I shake my head. “I don’t mind. I should go grab my jackass friend and make him apologize to you as well.”
“I don’t even think he’s aware of what happened,” she says.
“Typical Bryce.”
She looks up at me as I pour some alcohol on a cotton ball. “Bryce from Robert Cullen High School?” she asks.
I nod. “So his reputation precedes him.”
She shrugs. “I thought he looked familiar. I don’t know him though.”
“Did you go to RCHS?” I ask.
She nods. “You?”
“Same,” I say with a grin. “I just graduated. I’ve never seen you before. I’m Josh, by the way. Josh Graham.”
