- Brandon's POV -
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“Yeah, so I really was struck by lightning.” I leaned against the side of the hospital bed while I talked to Aiden on my phone. “They brought me here, ran some tests, took some MRIs, did doctor-y stuff, and now they’re releasing me. They didn’t find anything wrong.”
“That’s whack,” Aiden said from the other end of the phone. He sounded disbelieving, but not like he didn’t believe me. Just that he was trying to wrap his head around the concept.
“Yeah, I felt that way at first too.” Walking around aimlessly, I thumped a bag of liquid hanging from a stand. “But it happened, for sure.”
“Man. That’s crazy. But you’re okay and everything?”
“Yep. Totally fine. A bit tired, but nothing’s wrong with me.”
“Well. That’s just…that’s insane.” Aiden laughed. “Crazy. Who else have you told?”
“No one, really,” I admitted. “My parents know, obviously. And you. And my friends from volleyball. But no one else.”
“Are you going to tell anyone?”
“Nah. No need to advertise.”
“Makes sense.” I could imagine Aiden shaking his head on the other end. “Man. Brandon, you’re nuts. Why don’t these things happen to me? Jamie would be so proud to have a boyfriend who got struck with lightning.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, because a completely random event makes you cool and talented.”
“Oh shut up.”
“Hey, I need to go,” I said. “I gotta gather all my stuff to drop it off, and then I’m gonna get to work.”
“They’re gonna let you do that?”
“Well,” I said, drawing out the word. “Not technically. I’m supposed to rest. But honestly my job isn’t that strenuous, so it’s not a big deal.”
“I guess not. Well then, go ahead and get outta that place. Hospitals are creepy anyway. I’ll see ya later!”
“Later, bro.” Pressing the ‘end call’ button, I slipped my phone into my back pocket and grabbed my duffel bag. I hadn’t been entirely truthful when I told Aiden I needed to gather up my stuff—I had already stuffed it all into the duffel bag Mom had brought me. I just wanted to get back to work on my mystery novel cover art. And think about what happened.
I walked downstairs to check out of the hospital, which didn’t take long, and then dropped my stuff off at my apartment.
Hopefully no one asks me any serious questions, I thought. I’d called my boss and said I was sick, but I didn’t tell him with what. Maybe I can get by with saying I had a cold or something.
It was lunchtime when I walked into my building, but I wasn’t hungry. Layla was sitting at the reception desk chatting with one of her girlfriends, a brunette with eyelashes that were unnaturally long.
I froze in the foyer. Maybe I can get away with not talking to her. Putting on my most confident and purposeful walk, I strode past the reception desk.
Despite my best efforts, Layla glanced up when I passed. "Hey Brandon,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes and giving me a too-sweet smile.
“Hey Layla,” I said in my best I’m-busy-don’t-talk-to-me voice.
“Heard you’ve been sick, huh?” Layla widened her eyes and pouted her lip just the slightest bit. “What was it?”
Can the woman not take a hint? I thought, inwardly shaking my head. “Uh, it was a cold,” I replied, adding a sniff to make it seem more believable.
“Aww.” She shared a pitying look with her girlfriend, who winked at me. I was getting very flustered. It was time to make an exit.
“I gotta, um, go work on some stuff,” I said hurriedly as my cheeks heated up. “See you later.”
“Bye Brandon!”
I heard them giggling as I stumbled away. I wish she wouldn’t do that, I thought. Girls are fine by me, but not when they flirt shamelessly.
Sitting back down at my desk was a relief. I let out a breath I didn’t know I had been holding. A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as I cracked my knuckles, turned on my music, and opened my drawing program. Time to get down to business.
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