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This is the make-it-or-break-it moment where I have to use my brain, not my heart. I have to do something to divert Manasseh's attention.
Sean's still hanging around, and I can't tell if he's asking for it or just plain clueless. No one wants to mess with Manasseh. Maybe at first, he didn't realize it's him, because of the tense atmosphere.
Manasseh gets snapped out of his thoughts, his focus snatched by Samael, who slides one hand under my knees and the other behind my back, lifting me up effortlessly off the ground.
His smell and the feeling of his damp skin totally numb me out, making me forget how totally awkward I must look.
“I’ve got her,” he says as we step away from the field.
I sneak a sly peek at Manasseh from behind Sami's arm, catching him looking at us quietly and I can't even guess what's running through his head, but it scares me, like his eyes are accusing me for getting carried by his brother, not him.
I bet he wanted to save me, to play the hero.
But his not the hero. He is the defiant devil.
As for Sami and me, neither of us dares to say anything till we're almost at the nurse office. I notice some eyes on us and hushed whispers, and it makes me blush even more.
I bet he looks like some prince, carrying me like this. But me? I wouldn't look like a princess in a million years.
I'd totally hide against his chest right now if he wasn't shirtless. I’m trying to play it cool, not to touch him any more than I already am, because my hand's hanging around his neck, and I'm hiding my face behind my arm out of embarrassment. I'm being careful with his jacket, making sure it doesn't slip off his shoulders. My fingers barely brush his damp neck, and his fresh sweat is soaking into my shirt.
“Thanks,” I mumble before we step into the nurse's office.
Samael doesn't say anything, but I can feel his heart racing and his breath getting all hurried.
Am I seriously that heavy?
When Miss Cherry spots me, she waves us over to one of the beds, where Sami sets me down. Right then, his jacket slips off his shoulders, and he's left shirtless. He bends down to pick it up, the sight on his back leaving me breathless.
There's a huge pentagram tattooed on Samael's back. It's flipped, and I can tell it's etched deep because of the irregular dark lines.
Without a word, he slides on the jacket and just stands next to the bed like a statue. His demeanor is hostile, and I can tell he's uncomfortable, but he clenches his jaw and endures it.
Suddenly, a pang of guilt burns in my chest, and no matter how hard I choke back the sob, I can't stop tears from streaming down my face. It's my fault that everyone saw his scar. If I hadn't tripped, Sami wouldn't be a hot topic among the high school kids.
I turn my back to him and keep crying in silence. I don't want him to see me like this.
“Does it hurt?” His voice twists my stomach.
“Yeah,” I barely whisper, because I don't wanna spill the whole truth.
“Wait outside now, young man,” Miss Cherry comes up to the bed.
“Is it serious?”
“Not looking like anything too concerning. No worries, your girlfriend's gonna be alright.”
“I'm not...” I quickly set things straight. “I mean… we're not together,” I blurt out awkwardly, my voice dying out as I glimpse his red face.
“I'll wait outside,” Samael heads out of the room, and I bury my face in the soft pillow that smells like a hospital, tears still flowing.
Damn it! I really don’t have time for this. I gotta help Sami find a place to sleep, not hobble my way there. And now I'm freaked I won't be able to give him the full support he needs, because after what I just saw I just have more questions. Where did that thing on his back come from? Last time I checked, he didn't have it. That was ages ago, back when we were kids. Now I’m even more worried.
Miss Cherry is the school nurse, a drop-dead gorgeous young woman, brunette with a sleek low bun and two strands framing her feline face. She's modern, with winged eyeliner that elongates her way-too-blue eyes for such dark hair, giving off a sleek and professional aura. She's like Megan Fox, if you ask me.
She's skilled, her slim hands with long fingers move like magic. She's not just good-looking, she's smart too.
She patches up my wounds and puts a massive bandage on my knee, covering up the whole scratch. Whatever's in it, I can feel an instant cooling relief as she applies it. She disinfects my palms, then puts on some ointment and heads out of the room to take a call, hinting I can just hang here until the bell rings.
