Page 10 of Malaise
Two bottles get heaved in from the crowd. They bounce and roll at his feet as somebody snaps a picture with his or her phone. Hopefully the bonfire fucks with the lighting enough that I’m not recognisable. I’ll check Facebook in the morning.
Carver unscrews the cap and douses my arm with the first bottle. I hiss as the change in temperature sends needles piercing through the injured skin. My head feels as though a sparkler is alight inside, and the pinging sparks are ricocheting off the confines of my skull. Still, the heat radiating off me is unbearable. I clutch my elbow, as close as I dare touch to my wrist without brushing on the burnt skin, and squeeze hard while I will the pain to ease.
“Nobody can drive, Meg.” Or nobody wants to. Jasper sidesteps closer to screw his face up at the sight of my arm. “You need to call your parents or something.”
Fuck. No. They don’t need more worry. Another phone call about an injured child—even if I am still alive—and Dad’s likely to have a heart attack. “I’ll sawt it,” I grind out, irritated my words aren’t as clear as I’d like.
“Like fuck you will,” Carver murmurs.
He rips his T-shirt off over his head and drenches it with the second bottle before laying the wet fabric ever so gently over my arm. I register the cut and inked torso before me, but I’m way too preoccupied with the searing pain pulsing throughout me to care.
“But I need tago to Aftah Hours.” I shoot what I hope is a venomous stare Jasper’s way, trying to convey that this is in most part his fault for being AWOL. In my current state it probably comes off as more of a crazy cat lady hiss.
“I know you do,” Carver says while placing a hand under each elbow. “Up we go.”
I let him help me to stand as Jasper takes a step closer to announce, “I can take it from here.”
Satisfied I’m not about to fall flat on my arse, Carver lets go of my arm and whirls on Jasper, shunting him in the chest with both hands. “Really?” He shoves a stunned Jasper again as onlookers clear a space for a fight.
“Back off, arsehole.” Jasper steadies himself and steps into Carver’s space, chest to chest, his fiery stare locked on to an undeniably murderous one.
“Only letting this go so I can get her treated.” Carver jabs an angry hand in my direction, still staring Jasper down and staging for a brawl. “You’re fucking lucky, kid.”
“What the hell, man?” Jasper throws both hands in the air as Carver backs up a step. “Why are you being such a douche? It’s not as though I pushed her in.”
“You wanna know why I’m being such a jerk?” He laughs bitterly. “Because if you were a true friend, you’d be busting your arse to get her to an A and E. Not telling a girl who clearly has at least second-degree burns that she needs to sort her own shit out.”
Carver has no option but to follow me as I start away from the group, fed up with being the centre of attention. He catches up and grabs the end of his T-shirt together over my burnt arm so the excess water runs down the loose fabric to soak the rest. “You got a phone on you?”
“Yeah.” I fix my gaze on the dirt road that leads into the grove. “But I’m not calling anyone.” The crisp night air sobers me somewhat the second we step away from the heat of the fire.
Carver opens his mouth to protest, but before I can even blink, an airborne Jasper latching on to his back drives him into the ground.
“Hey!” I cry out as Carver rolls Jasper off him, flipping their positions.
Several partygoers come in for a closer look as Jasper thrashes like a rugby league player under Carver, managing to at least roll onto his back. Carver straddles his hips, fist reared back and ready to strike.
“Stop it!” I yell, squinting my eyes at the pain that sears through my skull from the effort.
One of Jasper’s buddies shunts Carver to tip him off balance, preventing the strike. My drinking buddy plants one strong hand on Jasper’s shoulder to pin him to the ground and looks around for who shoved him. I grab the chance to get in his line of sight and urge him to let it go. This shit is the last thing I need following me around: Meg Andrews—the girl who ruined the end of year party.
“Come on,” I damn near beg. “I need to get my arm looked at, right?”
Carver’s wild eyes flick to where I stand between him and the guy who shoved him off Jasper. The unchecked rage eases, and he pushes to stand, but not without thrusting his hand into Jasper’s shoulder first, causing him to grunt in pain.
“Meg,” Jasper pleads, changing tactics. “You can’t be seriously thinking about going with this weirdo? How do you know he’s even going to take you to the ER?”
Is he fucking serious? He honestly thinks that little of Carver that he assumes the guy is only out to take advantage of me? I glance over at Carver where he stands a few feet away and meet his intense gaze. A beat passes, the two of us simply staring at one another, and I see it: honesty.
“I don’t know for sure,” I reply to Jasper, eyes still on Carver. “But I trust him.”
Jasper shakes his head as one of his mates helps him to stand. “Whatever, Meg. I’m out. You’re on your own.”
Good. I’m starting to think it’s the way to be, given the complications that seem to come with suddenly being in demand.
Carver holds out his hand, urging me silently to join him. I step his way as Jasper heaves a laden breath and stomps off to join the dwindling crowd.
Carver’s hands wrap around my “bandaged” arm when I reach him, and he frowns. “I’m sorry I lost my shit then.”