Within The Bonds

57: I Need To Get Help

My mind's divided into two halves with my logic in the middle. My glowing phone screen a window into the mystery of the box and Liam's impassive gaze a window into my near future.

Standing at yet another crossroad, I decide to take a leap of faith and pick the one gazing right at me over the one I'm gazing at. Sighing in hesitance, I shove my phone back into my pocket.

"Can I explain later? my knuckle kinda hurt," I explain hoping my scrambled mind can reassemble itself by then.

Wordlessly he pushes open the door a little more granting me access. Frowning my brows when I get a glance at his room, I look at him surprised. 'What creature keeps his room this clean!'

With not a single drawer open or thing out of place and a perfectly made bed, his room is concussively tidier than mine! His olive-green walls with a subtle white accent to them seem to suit his personality perfectly.

With dumbbells stacked on a rack in a corner of the room and a neatly organized fitness and diet chart mounted next to a whiteboard near his desk, he has this distinctive aura surrounding his room.

A swat to the back of my head is quick to snap me out of my daze, leaving me with a glare pasted on my face directed towards Liam.

"Come on," he says motioning towards the bathroom with his head with amusement lingering in his eyes.

While he ransacks his cabinet for the first aid kit, I jump up on the counter and take a seat. Rolling the sleeves of my jacket, I wince at the sight of the bruise.

My mind immediately goes to coach's reaction if he sees this making me cringe. That man literally has no chill. The clicking sound of the first aid box being opened rings in my ears gaining my attention at once.

"How many punches did you get in?" Liam inquires as he drenches the cotton ball with my sworn enemy—disinfectant.

"You're just going to assume I was in a fight?" I counter question with a raised brow that soon creases into a frown as I wince at the sting when the cotton ball makes contact with my hand.

"Seen plenty of these," he remarks with his eyes focused on my hand.

"Just a disagreement turned violent," I try to dismiss, 'try' being the operative word.

A single raised brow from him is enough to let me know that he isn't going to let this topic go unexploded. But I didn't expect anything else, well I was hoping he would but I know better.

"Just got into a fight with these junior jocks that were harassing a freshman, but then that's what happens during hell week and you won't know that that is and I really don't want to explain that so can we drop it?"

My rant starts off in a fast-paced normal tone and ends in a whiny tone because all I can think of right now is the lecture coming my way and the mystery text sitting in my phone that I'm yet to look into.

"Varsity state captain 2018," he replies promptly as he dabs a clear ointment on my knuckles. This newly found information taking me by surprise.

"Okay, so you do know what hell week is. So, you don't really need me to exactly explain what happened," I add trying to get out of this conversation.

"That wasn't my initial question, was it?" He points out glancing at me briefly as he wraps my hand in gauze.

"I didn't count the number of times I hit them, Liam," I reply flatly when realization smacks me in the head.

"How many were they?" He inquires ignoring my reply.

"Five, well four fought, one stood and watched," I sum up unclear why he wants to know this.