Crushed (Crystal Brook Billionaires) (59 page)

And now he’s intruded in my apartment, and just like with work, taken away the sacredness from my own home.

I’m pretty angry by the time we get to my room. I’m also slightly embarrassed over the unmade bed and the clothes from yesterday laying on the floor. Nothing says
I’m a kid and not as mature as you
than a messy bedroom.

Walking across the floor, I quickly kick a pair of socks under the bed, hoping I’ve spared Simon’s eyes from at least one humiliating object. Or, rather, spared myself from the judgment stemming from him seeing my crap all over the place.

I sit down at the vanity with my arms crossed. He stands awkwardly in the doorway, his hands in his pockets. Only his eyes move, sweeping across the room and taking in my bed, my shelves of books and DVDs, and pictures of friends from high school and college.

“Speak,” I say, the word coming out a tad harsher than I meant it to.

His eyebrows shoot up. “Hello to you too.”

I angrily shake my head, my fingernails digging into the flesh of my arms. I have to keep my wrists locked in front of me, because if I don’t, I run the risk of reaching out and touching him. No matter how annoyed I am with him, he’s still just as attractive as he was the first day I saw him. Maybe even more so now that we’ve had sex.

“Don’t do that,” I say, partly to him and partly to myself. “Don’t act like everything is normal between us.”

“Why did you quit?”

“I got a different job. I want to be on set.”

He narrows his eyes. “That’s all?”

I sigh in exasperation. “No, that’s not all. Of course that’s not all!” I wave my hands around like a crazy person. “Look, I’ve been doing a good deal of thinking since I met you, and one thing I’ve figured out is that I ask a lot from men. I don’t want to do that with you anymore. It’s exhausting, and it doesn’t make either one of us happy. So I’m putting space between us, and just like I’m going to be me, I’m going to let you be you. You have…stuff. Reasons for being the way you are. We all do. I get that. But I’m not your therapist. It’s not my job to try and guess why you do the things you do. Why you’re so hot and cold.”

I pause for a breath. “That seems like it’s the only right thing to do. I’m not going to force you into anything… Simon.”

The name still feels slightly odd on my tongue, but I also love it. A big part of getting over him will be erasing the sweetness of his first name from my memory.

“Wow,” he breathes. He takes his hands from his pockets and walks across the floor, studying the DVD titles on the wall.

So many times I’ve fantasized about him being in this room with me, and now that it’s actually happening, it’s nothing like I hoped it would be. For one thing, I imagined it cleaner… and maybe with some candles lit.

Such is life.

He turns back to me, his eyes set on my face. “I wasn’t expecting any of that from you.”

“Well… there you have it. Do what you will with it.”

He glances down, and when he looks back up, his face is softer. “I’ve been spending my own time thinking as well.”

“Huh.” I’m curious of course, but I don’t want to appear too interested. If I want to leave this exchange with at least part of my heart still intact, I need to get him out of my apartment as soon as possible.

“It’s funny that you say you need to stop asking so much from people.” He pauses, his eyes flitting around as he gives some thought to his words. “I have things I want to change about myself too. I don’t like the direction I’ve been going in, Sydney. I haven’t liked it for years. I just haven’t known how to change course.”

I watch him, waiting for more.

“You made me want to,” he says.

My heart lifts at that, the warmth flowing out of it like it’s a flower blooming for the first time in years. God, I don’t want it to be that way, but it is.

“Can I take you somewhere?” he asks.

I warily tilt my head. “Where?”

“To my house. I want to show you something.”

I make a show out of ruefully laughing. “What’s going to happen if we’re alone at your house?”

“We’re alone in your bedroom,” he replies. I flush under the intense tone. “And I like flannel, by the way.” His eyes flick up and down my legs.

I gulp. “Okay. Let’s go. I need to change first.”

He nods and, surprisingly, goes to wait in the hallway. I shut the door halfway, aware of his presence on the other side the entire time I pull clothes out of the wardrobe. I excavate a pair of tight blue jeans and an old high school volleyball t-shirt and yank them on, my hands shaking slightly the entire time.

I don’t know what’s about to happen, but I need to be careful. Just because Simon says he’s ready to chart a different course, doesn’t mean the two of us are sailing in the same direction. Hell, we could be in different seas.

I open the door all the way. He’s standing right where I left him, like a watch dog guarding my room. We silently look at each other and I resist the urge to just throw myself into his arms. If I go ahead and give myself over physically, all the things I want to say will be forgotten. Then we might end up back in this vicious cycle that’s so hard to escape from.

But, God, I want him in my bed. Smelly clothes on the floor be damned.

“I’m not a plaything,” I say. The words come out gentler than I had expected them to. Or maybe that’s the fear in me showing. His presence is tearing down my defenses, just like it always does.

“I know,” he responds in a voice so soft it curls my toes.

I study him, trying to figure out whether he truly means it or not. Slowly, I nod. I believe him. He’s made mistakes, just like everyone. And maybe he
is
trying to be better but is just having trouble figuring out how to do that.

He leads the way, taking me down the hall. I can’t help but stare at his back, the broad shoulders and tall frame. I press my lips together and suck in a breath through my nose. God, how I want to touch him again; to relive what happened in his dad’s library…

He stops so suddenly that I bump into him. A second later, he’s rushing forward into the living room.

“Eryk!” he shouts.

And then I see what made him stop. Eryk is laying on the floor next to the coffee table, rolled over on his side. His eyes are closed and he looks unnaturally pale.

Simon drops to his knees next to him and lifts his head. I try to take a step forward, but my veins are full of ice, holding me frozen in the spot where I stand.

“What’s wrong with him?” I ask in a weak, scared voice that sounds nothing like my own.

“I don’t know.” Simon lightly smacks Eryk’s cheek. “Eryk! Can you hear me? Wake up.”

I look at the coffee table only a couple feet away from them. “Did he hit his head?”

“I don’t know.” He lifts Eryk’s head into his lap, and Eryk doesn’t so much as sigh or flutter an eyelash. An icy hand squeezes around my heart, killing all hope left in it.

What if he’s dead?

Simon checks for a pulse and then bends his face close to Eryk’s.

“He’s breathing. Sydney, call an ambulance.”

I push my feet across the room and grab my backpack. Thank God I always put it in the same front pocket. My fingers shake as I dial 911.

The dispatcher comes on.

“My roommate is unconscious,” I quickly say. “I don’t know what happened.”

I glance over at the floor, where Simon is snapping in front of Eryk’s ear. I rattle off the address and apartment number and hang up.

“An ambulance is on the way,” I tell him.

“Hand me a pillow.”

I grab one from the couch and pass it over. He slips it under Eryk’s feet, propping them up high.

“What are you doing?”

“This helps get blood flow back to the brain.”

Eryk’s eyes open slightly and I gasp. “Simon!” I say.

Eryk blinks groggily then closes his eyes again.

“Hey!” Simon says, grabbing his shoulders. “Stay awake! Eryk, can you hear me? Stay awake.”

Eryk mumbles something incoherent. It sounds like babbling coming from a one-year-old.

“Sydney.” Simon points at the kitchen. “Get a glass of water.”

I clear the living room in a few leaps. The trickle from the fridge seems to move glacially slow. When the glass is half full, I carry it back to Simon and crouch down next to his side. Eryk’s eyes are almost fully open, but there’s something fuzzy about them. He looks around the living room like he’s uncertain about where he is.

“Can you drink this?” Simon asks.

Eryk takes the slightest sip before dropping his head back down. I hear the sirens coming down the street and rush to the courtyard to meet the people coming in. The medics are both young men, one short and one tall. They carry bags and a cot. I direct them to my apartment and stand in the hallway while they gather around Eryk.

“How long was he unconscious?” the tall one asks Simon.

“We don’t know. We were out of the room for not even ten minutes. When we came back in, we found him like this.”

The short EMT begins talking to Eryk, shining a light in his eyes and asking him his name. Simon backs out of the way, coming to stand next to me in the hallway by the door. His hand slips into mine, and I weave my fingers through his, not giving the action any thought.

Eryk’s awake. He’s not dead.

The tall EMT comes over to us. “He’s speaking, but we’re going to take him to the hospital just to get him checked out. Since you don’t know how long he was unconscious, it’s best not to take any chances. We’ll take him to Hollywood Presbyterian.”

“We’ll go there now.” Simon squeezes my hand and we move out of the way. The medics put Eryk on the cot, strapping him in before lifting him up and carrying him down the stairs. A few neighbors stand in the hall, watching with great interest. I snatch my backpack and pull on my shoes, hopping towards the door while doing so.

“Come on.” The words are a half gasp, half sob.

Simon goes ahead of me and I follow, remembering last minute to shut and lock the door. My hand shakes against the railing and I try to focus on each step.

Make it down the stairs, then across the courtyard. That’s all I have to do.
One thing at a time.

The ambulance is pulling away by the time we get to where Simon’s car is parked on the street. He’s got the key in the ignition and the engine going before I’ve barely buckled my seat belt. I pull my phone out and send Crystal a text detailing everything that just happened.

After pressing send, I close my eyes and drop my head against the head rest.

“It’s going to be all right,” Simon says.

I open my eyes and look over at him. “Thank you.”

“What for?” He takes a turn, almost running a red.

My eyes burn. “For being there,” I croak.

He glances over at me, and I know he understands what I can’t find the strength to say. If it had been just me there, I wouldn’t have known how to act or what to do. I would have just fallen apart.

“What do you think happened?” I ask, my voice betraying just how close I am to crying.

“He either hit his head or just passed out… has he ever fainted before?”

“Not that I know of.” I give it some thought. “He’s been eating really weird, though. I’m not exactly sure what, but Crystal said he’s been on some crazy diet. She thinks he’s not getting enough food.”

Simon nods. “Make sure to tell them everything you know when we get there. The doctors will figure it out.”

We don’t say anything else for the rest of the drive. When we get to the hospital, we rush into the waiting room.

“My brother is here,” I lie to the nurse at the front desk, trying to get around the privacy laws. “Eryk Stevens.” I clutch the edge of the counter and hold my breath, waiting to see if she has any information on him.

She looks at a clipboard in front of her, trailing her finger down a list. “All right,” she says in a bored voice. “As of right now, we have no information. If you’ll have a seat, we’ll call you when something happens.”

“I need to speak to the staff,” I hurriedly say. “He might have fainted because of his diet. I need to let them know…”

She looks at me and slowly nods. “I’ll pass that on. If we need any information from you, someone will come out and get you.”

I run my palms over my face and work to steady my breathing. Next to me, Simon is cool as a cucumber.

“Okay,” I mutter. “Okay.”

“Here’s some information that needs to be filled out.” She hands me a clipboard. “Just enter whatever you know.”

I take the clipboard and shuffle over to the long rows of uncomfortable looking blue chairs and sit in one. Simon settles next to me. “Did Crystal text you back?”

I check my phone. “No.”

“Stay here. I’ll go get you some coffee.”

He leaves the waiting room, disappearing underneath the sign that points to the cafeteria. I start filling out the information, but there’s not much more I can answer other than the basics such as Eryk’s name and birth date.

I turn the papers into the desk and sit down heavily. My phone rings and I snatch it up like my life depends on it.

Crystal doesn’t give me a chance to say hello. “Oh my God, what happened?” she shrieks.

“He fainted. Or hit his head. We don’t really know.”

“Is he okay?”

“When the medics took him out, he was awake, but he was barely speaking.” My lower lip trembles over the last part and I have to press my palm against my mouth to still it.

“I’m on my way. You’re at Hollywood Presbyterian?”

“Yeah, in the waiting room. With Simon.”

There’s a little silence. “Simon?”

“He came over to talk to me about something and that’s when it happened.”

“Talk to you about what?”

“Crystal,” I gasp, honestly not able to believe she wants to talk about my love life when our roommate is laying — probably in seriously bad shape — in a hospital room somewhere.

“Is he there now?” she asks, her voice low.

“He went to get me coffee.”

“Oh… I still don’t get it. Why did he come over?”

“I think…” I pause and lick my dry lips. “Well, he wanted to talk about us. Me and him.”

“Wow… okay. I’ll be there soon.”