Twenty minutes later, Ramon parks in front of Jefferson Hall. “Hang here for a little bit.”
“Yes, sir,” he says.
I shiver at his words. He sounds like he’s talking to my father. And I hate that fucking prick.
Slinging the store bag over my shoulder, I climb the stairs in Briana’s dormitory. I run into a few people I know. They try to stop me, but I’m too determined to get to Briana’s room. She’s too stubborn to let anyone help her. I hope she doesn’t slam the door in my face. The halls are crowded with drunken idiots, music thumping from various rooms that have people flowing from them. How the hell is Briana supposed to get any rest living here?
I stop in front of room three twenty-seven and ball my hand into a fist to knock on her door. A few seconds pass where I don’t hear a single sound. So, I try again, this time with more force. Nothing. I slam my fist harder into the wood a few more times before the door swings open. A very angry looking brunette appears in the doorway, dressed in a Stark Industries T-shirt and pajama pants that have the Marvel’s Avengers logo on them. Briana’s hair is sweat-matted to her forehead, her normally clear blue eyes glassy and red-rimmed.
“What do you want?” Briana shouts, gripping the door in her hand.
“I came to check on you and see if you need anything.” I hand her the plastic bag. “How about a peace offering?”
She stares at it like the bag is about to spontaneously combust. “What’s in it?”
“A few things I’ve needed in the past when I had a concussion.” Holding out the open bag, I continue, “I got you some medicine to dull the pain, some ginger ale, and a few other things.”
She leans forward to scan the contents and then snatches the bag from my hands. Briana wobbles to the left, dropping the bag on the floor in the process. I bend forward to pick it up. By the time I gather everything in my hands, she’s disappeared into the room.
I stop myself, wondering if following her into her dorm uninvited is a good idea. But after considering the look on her face, I go against my better judgment and rush into the room after her. The only light is coming from an open door in the back of the place, where I can hear Briana throwing up. I knew it would only get worse for her. I should have come sooner.
I drop the items in my arms on the coffee table in the living room and then step into the small bathroom, where I find Briana on the floor in front of the toilet. She doesn’t look up at me as I brush her hair away from her face and hold it for her, rubbing her back as she dry heaves what’s left in her stomach.
“It’s okay, Bri,” I say in a hushed tone. “I’m here.”
After she cleans up and brushes her teeth, I carry her into the living room and set her on the couch. I sift through the stuff on the table and then hand her a few Tylenol to swallow down with some water. Briana doesn’t fight me. She’s too tired and weak to protest.
Sitting at the end of the microfiber couch with Briana, I lift her feet into my lap, smiling like an idiot. This feels like old times. I rub her bare feet for her, making slow circular movements with the pads of my thumbs. She hasn’t let me do this for her in years. And I missed it. I missed her so damn much.
“How come you’re sleeping on the couch?” I ask her.
She presses her cheek to the pillow and then looks up at me with one eye open. “I don’t have a TV in my room. Can’t afford one.”
“You should sleep in your bed.”
“Julian, please,” she growls. “Just let me do what I want without telling me how to live my life.”
“How many times have you thrown up since you left the locker room?”
A beat passes before she says, “Four, I think.”
Having gone through my fair share of concussions, I feel for her. I know what it’s like to not stop vomiting for days and feeling dizzy for even weeks afterward. One of my concussions lasted months in high school, which made it near impossible to play. I had to lie to my coach to get ice time, and even then, he still limited my play.
I stroke her back with my fingers. “You need to rest.”
She leans into my hand, allowing me to massage her. “I am resting.”
“You know what I mean. In a bed.”
Briana sighs. “Would it make you happy if I slept in my bed?”
“Yes, very.”
I only want what’s best for her.
“Fine.” She attempts to sit up and slide her legs off the couch and falls into my shoulder. “Shit, this sucks.”
“I know.” Without thinking, I kiss the top of her head. She stills in my arms but doesn’t say anything. “You’ll get through this. And I’ll be here for you every step of the way, okay?”