Sometimes, we meet people who challenge us on every front and see through our façades. And we hate them for it until we can't lie to ourselves anymore. Then, it becomes scary. Loving someone we hated so passionately.

• • •

"He's fine, right?" I inquired impatiently as the attending doctor took his sweet time in examining the X-ray  of Zach's wrist.

Please don't let anything be broken.

Seconds ticked by. For all I knew, he didn't even hear me speak.

I wasn't comfortable with how much time he was spending on the black and white image. There really was no need for him to study it so closely.

A glance at Zach's forlorn expression informed me he was anticipating the worst and that he also considered how much time the doctor was spending on the X-ray a bad sign.

Please, no. Please.

"Fortunately, he will be," The doctor answered finally, absent mindedly pushing his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose.

"See, you're fine," I declared, hoping I was the only one who took note of the 'will'.

The flat look Zach flashed me made it clear he not only noticed that the doctor said he will be fine, not that he was fine, but that he also knew I was only trying to evade a hefty medical bill.

I turned my face away and rolled my eyes. Boo-freaking-hoo.

"So everything's okay?" His friend asked anxiously.

If I didn't know better, -which I did because Zach rolled his eyes every time she opened her mouth- I would've thought she was his girlfriend.

She insisted on tagging along to the hospital despite my glare and Zach's protests. If only she knew how to drive, I could've left him in her care.

I had been trying to ignore the steadily mounting dread and panic building in my chest but I was starting to fail. I was in my least favourite place with my least favourite person. All I wanted was to leave as soon as possible.

I hadn't stepped foot in a hospital in years and it was still too soon.

"His hamate is broken," The doctor announced, carefully setting the x-ray down.

"Broken?" I echoed, shaking my head in denial as I picked up the x-ray. "But it wasn't that high. Like three feet, tops."

I held it up to my nose, trying to make sense of the black and white image.

"I don't see a break," I stated with the confidence of a clueless person willing to fake it till she made it.

The doctor smiled, amused and resigned at all once.

He got up, walked around the desk, stopping at my shoulder.

"Right there." He tapped a blurry, white, wedge shaped part. "That's the break. Luckily, it should heal fast, thanks to the tendons holding it in place."

I didn't see anything other than blurry stone-like shapes but he was trained to detect this kind of thing while I, sometimes, couldn't tell coloured mascara from liquid lipstick.

"It's really broken?" I asked, a wave of cold washing over me. I could feel Zach rolling his eyes. "You're a hundred percent sure?"

He nodded.

My vision dipped and blurred. I forced myself to remember that it wasn't the same, that Zach was going to be fine, even as pressure built up in my lungs signalling that I'd hyperventilate soon if I wasn't careful.

I hated it.

This was all his fault. If he hadn't stupidly moved in front of my foot, none of this would've happened. I wouldn't be here.

"What were you thinking moving in front of me like that!" I snapped, frustration pouring into my tone and a tinge of hysteria.

"That my feet were cramping up and I needed to change positions," he replied blandly.

My annoyance doubled.

"And what? You didn't see my foot swinging out?"

"Are you always this annoying?" He continued in the same lazy drawl, effortlessly returning my hostile look.

"Says the dumbass stupid enough to get himself kicked off an elevated surface!" I fisted my hands to avoid doing something rash like reaching for his throat.

"Wow, you're irritating," he muttered lowly but loud enough for me to hear before glancing away as though I wasn't worth the effort.

I ground my molars. The little brat.

"Sorry to interrupt," the doctor chipped in, stepping between us.

It was probably for the best because he might not have appreciated me doing bodily harm to his patient.

"Interrupt away. He's not worth talking to."

"He's going to need a cast. You can get him fitted for one on the second floor."

"Perfect," I spat.

My tone made it clear it was anything but that.

Somehow, I restrained myself. I didn't strangle him on our way to getting him outfitted for a cast. I didn't do it when he grumbled and accused me of purposely trying to kill him for Josh's sake. I really wanted to but I didn't. I didn't do it when he refused to shut up about how I was a 'vindictive psychopath'. It took all the self-control I had but I managed it.

But as I listened to him -my eyes twitching spastically- explain why I had to be the one to drive him home, I was afraid I had reached my limit.

My patience had been tested. I was negative. My mum would understand that I had given the high road a chance.

"You're the reason this happened. The least you could do is drive. Do you seriously expect me to trouble Amy?" he asked.

What he really wanted to say was clear: are you really that shameless?

"It's not trouble if she's happy to do it," I ground out.

"I don't mind helping." She shrugged oh so casually.

I somehow refrained from rolling my eyes.

"She's happy to help," I seconded, a fake smile plastered to my cheeks.

"You're driving me home..." He trailed off, a frown marring his features.

"What now?" I snapped.

We already decided I would repay the medical bill in favour installments. I didn't love the idea but I couldn't complain since I had no money. All I wanted right now was to be away from him.

"What's your name?" he inquired.

"What?" My brows rose, confusion on my face.

"Your name," he reiterated.

"Tyler."

A moment of silence followed as he regarded me skeptically. Then, he rolled his eyes.

"You could have just said you didn't want to tell me."

My eyes rolled to the back of my head and returned.

"Why would you be worth a lie when I can just say no?"

"Sure." He drawled the word condescendingly. "So your name is actually Tyler."

His tone, his face, the way he hooked his unbroken hand in his belt loop made it perfectly clear he still thought I was lying.

I ground my molars and drew in a deep breath.

My hands fisted at my side and Amy stepped between us in case I tried anything drastic. Our eyes met easily above her head. Unlike Zach and I, she was barely five ft five.

"You're about to get into a car," I stated, eyes narrowing to slits. "Your hand is broken. I'm driving and in total control of your safety. I'd be careful about pissing me off if I were you. Now, get in the damn car."

• • •

Author's Note:

Sorry this is late and poorly written. I'm a bit ill and my head is all fuzzy.