“You can’t say that. What the fuck?” her friend Olivia said in a scream-whisper. “You’re going to get suspended.”
“Yes,” I told her flatly. “If you stress me out to the point I keep dropping stuff, they’re going to have to cut both my armsoff, and it’ll be your fault. You really want to live with that?” I felt a little bit like an asshole.
At the occupational therapy center that I’d gone to for the few weeks between my accident and getting my prosthesis, there’d been a man who’d lost both arms at the elbow and one of his feet in an electrical accident.
The guy had a much better attitude than me, so maybe I shouldn’t be using that as a threat.
But kids were vicious, and I had to compromise my morals sometimes. And, at the very least, it was a distraction from the reason I’d dropped my damn phone in the first place. I’d been half-joking about asking Creek if it was a date.
Well, no. That was me lying to myself. I’d very much wanted it to be a date. I’d been in a damn near blind worry for the last two days of total radio silence, thinking he’d settled into bi-panic and was going to change his mind.
So the joking part was all self-preservation.
I bent over, ignoring the strain on my knee, as I swooped my phone back up and waved at the kids. “Finish the game, or I’m going to make you run laps.”
Basketballs hit the court again, and I limped over to the benches and sat, stretching both feet out. My prosthesis looked a little shorter than my other leg, which probably meant my stump was still shrinking and explained why my hip was fucking killing me.
I made a quick note to call my prosthetist before finally—finally—getting the balls to open up Creek’s text thread again.
Heath
A date it is. Where are you taking me?
Sergeant Grumpy :(
You pick.
Heath
Nuh uh uh. You asked you choose
Sergeant Grumpy :(
I ain’t good at that kind of thing.
Heath
AIN’T??? You’re so cute
Sergeant Grumpy :(
Stop.
Heath
I will not pick a place. I’m not picky about food
Sergeant Grumpy :(
It’s a surprise.
I grinned at my phone, then looked up when I felt eyes on me. I waved at the kids. “Two miles of laps. Don’t think I won’t.”
“Are you in love, sir?”
I damn near choked on my own tongue. “Uh. No?”
“He’s lying,” Chad said. He threw the ball behind him, and of course, it went in the basket. He was mobbed by five of his friends as the girls started loudly debating on whether or not they could make the same shot.
