A Real Disaster (8 page)

After an hour and twenty minutes my hand
was cramped, my head throbbed, and my eyes were crossing. The notes that
started off neat and orderly were now scribbled every which way in my notebook.
I didn’t know where they began and where they ended.

“God, I forgot how intense professor
Salmon is,” Nash muttered as we exited the lecture hall.

“You had him before?”

“Once and obviously that was a time that
I chose to forget.” Nash rubbed his temples. “My head feels like it’s going to
explode.”

“Join the club,” I said.

“Mines from
boredom.”

I laughed.

We stepped off to the side and I looked
for Turner. I would probably walk back with him as long as he didn’t try to
kill Nash before we left.

“Hey,” Turner said when he finally
arrived. “Nash.”

“Turner.”

The two looked at each other but no
words were thrown. The air crackled with tension. Other kids pushed past us,
completely unaware of the scene in front of them. They wanted to get as far
away from the class room as much as I did.

“Did you love my sister?” Turner asked
suddenly.

I shrugged as Nash’s eyes slid towards
me and then the two of us stared at Turner.

“Yes man,” Nash said and it seemed like he
was being honest. He sounded the same way he did when he and I talked the night
of the concert. “I wanted her to be happy.”

“So then why were you trying to fuck
her?”

“We both wanted to be together. It was a
mutual thing. You had to have known that, Turner. It’s not like I raped her.”

The word stung my ears…

“What I know is what I saw and what I
saw was you taking advantage of my baby sister.”

“I told you she meant the world to me.”

“Like hell she did,” Turner snapped.

“Fuck you Turner.” Nash’s words began to
have a hard edge. “You don’t know because we didn’t tell you. It was our
business, hers and mine. Get over it. You’re becoming annoying.”

“Fuck you. I had every right to interfere.
I was trying to keep her safe.”

“She was fine!”

“You were using her.”

“You’re sister cared about me more than
you and that’s why you’re pissed.”

Suddenly Turner’s fist swung out and hit
Nash squarely in the jaw. Nash fell to the floor, clutching his mouth, and I
yelped. Turner was shaking his hand and hopping from foot to foot.

“What the hell did you do?” I cried.

I looked around but thankfully no one
else was there to witness it. Seeing this would surly get the two expelled.

 
“Turner what the hell
were
you thinking? Are you trying to get expelled or even arrested? You can’t go
around and punch people.”
 

“Take that you pussy,” Turner hissed.
“You self-centered asshole.”

He turned on his heel and walked briskly
away from Nash and
I
. I watched Turner
go,
torn between following and making sure he was okay or
staying with Nash.

I chose Nash…

Grabbing his arm, I pulled Nash up to a
standing position. Blood trickled down his mouth and to his chin where Nash
wiped it with his bare hand.

“I tried to tell him,” Nash said as we
watched Turner’s retreating form. “What a fucking baby.”

“He’s just in shock,” I said. “Are you
okay?”

I pulled Nash’s hand from his mouth and
wiped away the blood with a tissue I had in my bag. He had nothing but a busted
lip, not even requiring stitches. A bruise was already blossoming on his jaw.

“Do you want to go to the infirmary to
take care of this?”

“No, I’ll take care of it myself. I took
a beating from my brothers all the time so no big deal.”

“Let me come with you, maybe I can
help.”

Nash smiled and then winced.

“Want to go back to my place?”

I tried not to ask why it was his
‘place’ and not his dorm.

“Sure…”

Nash touched his face tenderly.

“Damn! I forgot how wicked his right
hooks were.”

“This isn't the first time this has
happened?”

 
“No,
we used to get in fights all the time. That shit happens though. It's just part
of growing up and having lots of disagreements. We were guys hanging out with
each other all the time so it was bound to happen.”

“I just don't get guys sometimes. I can
never imagine fighting with any of my friends. Then again, I didn't have many close
ones anyway.”

“You didn't have many friends? Well,
that is strange.”

“I guess if you want to call it that.”

Chapter
Eight

When we got to his house I hesitated at
the door. I was nervous and terrified to be alone with him. It wasn't that he
had done anything specific to be afraid of him but I was scared of being alone
with any guy because of my past. I knew I had to get over it though and I just
needed to be cautious instead of holding myself back all the time.

“Are you okay?” he asked with a
concerned look on his face.

The door was wide open and he was
standing inside on the rug. He smiled and waved me in.

“Yeah, I'll be okay,” I said, slowly walking
inside.

I sat him down and began to tend to his
mouth. The bleeding clotted and I gently wiped away the dried blood. His lip
was swollen, not unexpected, and on his jaw there was a nice flourishing
bruise. He winced as I cleaned him up but not once did he complain or tell me
to stop.

Finally, when I was finished, Nash took
my hand and led me around the house. We were ending our tour with his bedroom.

“And this is the bedroom. This is where
I do all of my best thinking and creating.”

“Nice,” I said as I took a tentative
step inside.

The last time I was near a bedroom with
Nash, he wanted to join me. The room was painted a deep blue with white
checkered curtains and lamps in each corner. There was a queen bed against one
wall and a desk on the other side. In the corner
was
a
guitar and a stand. Clothes littered the floor but the closet was closed.

“Yeah, it’s one of my favorite places,” he
said, pushing the clothes out of the way and patting the bed. “Sit down for a
bit.”

“Nah, I’m okay,” I responded, eyeing the
bed. “I don’t need to sit, I’m not tired.”

“Lily, sit down,” Nash said as he patted
the bed again. “I’m not going to try and fuck you here.”

I cocked an eyebrow and Nash chuckled.

“Okay, I’ll try not to... I can’t make
any promises, though.”

That’s what I was afraid of.

After hesitating a moment, I sat next to
Nash on the bed. He grabbed my hand and squeezed.

“Thanks for taking care of me. You
didn’t have to come home with me or make sure I was okay.”

“
It’s
fine,” I
said as I waved away his thank you. “What kind of person would I be if I let
you go home by yourself? You looked half dazed when I pulled you up off the
floor. I’m not sure you would have been able to make it here by yourself,
honestly.”

“Well, I appreciate it either way.”

Nash dropped my hand and stared around
his room.

“So what kind of greatness happens in
here? And don’t say sex,” I said, smiling.

He laughed.

“Well, do you know how many songs I
wrote in this room? How many times I paced back and forth, thinking of the best
words to use or a new verse? I play my guitar for hours in here, sitting on the
bed, until my fingers are raw and my body is stiff.”

“So you’re passionate about your writing.
You’re passionate about your music.”

“Yeah, I always have been. Music is my
life; it has been since I learned how to play the guitar when I was kid. It was
an escape from everything.”

“An escape?”
 
I asked.
“An escape from
what?”

“Life… Reality… You know, just
everything. Writing and playing music has been my way to dealing with growing
up and the people around me. It helps me figure stuff out.”

“Life couldn't have been too hard for
you considering you are so popular.”

“I was anything but popular. Everyone
looked at me like I was just the guy in a rock band. It was nothing like how it
has been in college. I had a couple of
friends that were in a
band with me and that was
it.
No one else.”

I was surprised. After going to the
party and seeing all the girls that wanted his attention I never suspected that
it was any different when he was in high school. It felt good to be around
someone that felt alone in high school just like I did. Going to college has been
good for him and it is already pointing towards it being good for me too.

“Really?
You must be in heaven
with all these girls screaming your name now then.”

“I guess you could say that...” he said,
pausing. “So you don't have anything like singing to help you escape from
life?”

“I was really into chorus but it didn't
help me escape from anything. I just did it for an extra-curricular activity.
Sure, I loved it, but it didn't help with any of my life problems. All I really
did was study and read books. I always wanted to get perfect grades. That's
just who I was.”

Nash looked at me, tilting his head.

“Really?
There wasn't
anything that helped you get away for a bit and not worry about anything?
Reading books didn't even do it for you?”

I paused, thinking about it for a bit. I
thought back to my childhood, back to my family and school. I couldn’t think of
anything.

Nothing that I used to escape…

“No,” I said honestly. “I don’t think
there’s anything that I used to escape. But I’m not sure if I had a reason to
escape either. My life wasn’t bad…”

Well, for the most part.

Unless you count not having many friends
as being bad or the life changing event that caused that to happen.

But I didn’t want to tell him or anybody
about that.

“Life doesn’t have to be bad to escape.
My life wasn’t bad at all. It was hectic, sure, but it wasn’t bad. You really
had nothing you wanted to escape from?” he repeated again.

“Not one thing,” I lied to him.

I shrugged. Nash shifted on his bed
before lying down on his back.

“Damn my head hurts and I’m fucking
nauseous.”

Immediately I shifted on the bed before
I was on my hands and knees, leaning over Nash. I was looking at his head,
trying to see any cuts or bruises on any other surface of his skull. I tried to
remember: did Nash hit his head when he
fall
? Was
there anything in his way as he toppled over, anything that could have nicked
his head? I scrunched my eyes together, trying to reset the picture in my head,
but I came up with nothing. I couldn’t remember what happened after Turner
punched Nash except for the bloody lip and Turner storming away.

“Did you hit your head?” I asked Nash,
running my hand over his scalp. “When you fell did you hit anything?
The concrete?
Metal?
Anything?”

“I don’t think so. But everything is
kind of a blur. All I remember is Turner decking me and then being on the
ground with blood pouring from my lip.” Nash frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Checking for any bumps of cuts,” I
explained.

“Why?”

“Because if there’s a bump, you might
have a concussion,” I told him. “If you have a concussion then you need to go
to the hospital.”

“I don’t think I have a concussion. I’m
just a bit dizzy.”

 
“Nash,
I really think you should go to the hospital. This could be really bad.”

Nash didn’t answer me. A layer of sweat
gleamed on his body and, for lack of anything better to do, I rubbed Nash’s
back. His breathing was rugged and he looked pained when he rubbed his hand
across his mouth.

“Nash.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to go to the hospital?”

Nash shook his head.

“No. I don’t want to go anywhere
near
a hospital. Hospitals scare the
shit out of me.”

“But what about
your head?
What if you have a concussion?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve gotten punched
before and I’m pretty sure it’s not a concussion.”

“So what do you want me to do?”

“How about you kiss me and make it all
better?” Nash asked, winking at me.