He hit me. He fucking hit me.
Sitting on the bed with Jagger, I just stare at nothing. The voices in the room are just static as my head starts to pound. The side of my face is hot to the touch, and it feels like it's already starting to swell. I can't believe he punched me. I know he meant to hit Jagger, but I couldn't let it keep happening. I didn't want them to fight anymore, so I tried to stop it.
Jagger said that my whole body gave out as I took the punch, but I don’t really remember. He must have hit me pretty hard. I stare at the wall while somebody asks me a million questions I don’t want to answer.
Do I want my brother to get in trouble for this? No. I just want him to get some help. The drugs are making him angry and violent. He was never that type of person before. Sure, they all fought growing up, but nothing like this.
They never let anything get in between their friendship…until now.
Once the person is done asking questions, he tells Jagger a few things before handing me an ice pack for my head. I don’t even bother saying thank you as he walks away. The security people speak to Jagger a little longer before they leave with my brother, holding his arms.
They had talked about pressing charges, but I told them I didn't want to. I just wanted him out of my dorm. If he’s really back on drugs, he needs to get some help. Help none of us are capable of providing.
Jagger kneels in front of me, his hands on my thighs. "Hey." His voice is a quiet whisper, and I hate it. He isn't the reason I got hit. My brother was the one who did that. He chose to swing, even though I know he saw me walk in front of him.
“I don’t blame you, Jagger.” My voice cracks, but I don’t care. I want him to know that it isn’t his fault, no matter what he thinks. “He was the one who came in here pissed from the beginning. He did this.” I point to the side of my face.
He lifts me up and sits me in his lap on the floor. "Your face looks terrible." His lips trail gently along the other side of my face. "I sent a text to Mad and Beck. They are on the way. They couldn't fucking believe he hit you, so they want to see it for themselves before we decide what to do."
I nod slightly, wincing.
I sit with his arms wrapped around me until we hear a knock on the door. I know it’s them, but I can’t bring myself to get out of his lap. I bury my face into his neck and stay there until I hear their voices.
“Jagger,” Maddox murmurs before taking a seat on the chair in front of us.
"Hey, guys." His chest vibrates with every word. "She hasn't moved in a half-hour." His hand runs down the back of my head, but I still don't move.
"Bresin." A hand touches my back, but it doesn't fill me with the same warmth Jagger’s does. When I turn my head slightly, I see Beckett kneeling next to us. "Let us see your face." I don’t know how his voice can be so calm and collected right now. I can feel the anger coursing through Jagger, but Beckett looks like he doesn't have a care in the world.
I turn my body in Jagger’s lap so they can see.
"Fuck," Maddox breathes. His eyes narrow as he stares at me. "He seriously clocked you, Bresin." He reaches out to grab my chin to move my face, making me groan. The whole side of my face hurts, even the part that isn’t swollen.
"We need to get him help," Beckett states. "How the fuck did this happen?"
"He banged on the door this morning.” They both nod. "Ridge was pissed I was here. He said she wouldn’t want anything to do with me while I rotted in jail. We exchanged some punches, then Bresin stepped in front of me as he tried to get another cheap shot in.”
I watch as anger fills both of their expressions. "Let us deal with Ridge. You make sure she's okay," Beck says, frowning. "Can't fucking believe this shit. If it’s the last damn thing I do, I'll get his ass into rehab again.” He mutters something else, but I don't catch it all. My head is throbbing. All I want to do is sleep.
Closing my eyes, I lean my head against Jagger's chest and listen to them talk about how they plan on getting Ridge back into rehab. The details become fuzzy as I get more and more tired. Soon, everything goes silent. The throbbing disappears as I drift off to sleep.
My eyes flutter open as the throbbing in my face gets worse. I groan, rolling over to my side before I bump into a body. I cover my face as gently as I can. “You okay?” His voice is raspy with sleep, but I love hearing it at any hour of the day.
"It hurts so much," I whimper. I hate being in pain. It is one thing that I've never been good at.
He wraps his arm around me and pulls me into his chest. "Close your eyes,” he whispers. He starts to massage the side of my temple that doesn't hurt, relaxing me. The pain isn't as terrible as I fall back to sleep.
My stomach rumbles as I turn over. My face feels even more swollen, but I can't stay asleep any longer. We've pretty much been in bed all damn day, and my body is completely stiff. My face hurts, but an hour ago, Jagger forced me to take some Ibuprofen crap that left a weird taste in my mouth. Luckily, some of the pain went away, but not all of it.
“What is there to eat in this place?” he asks, rolling off the bed. I close my eyes and try to think if I even have any food here.
"Nothing," I mutter, pulling the blankets back up to cover my thighs.
“You want to head to my place and get a pizza?”
I groan at the thought. It’s been so damn long since I’ve had any pizza. I wanted to be able to fit into my cute little white-and-black bikini, and the only way that will happen is if I lay off the damn greasy yumminess.
I poke out my lip. "But pizza will make my ass big, then I won't fit into my bikini this summer. I only have four more weeks of torture before summer and my big birthday bash.”
He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. "I don't give a shit if you look like you have two pieces of pizza glued to your damn thighs this summer. You'll still be hot as fuck and all mine. Don't care. If you want to eat the pizza, eat the fucking pizza." I glare at him the best I can, but the smug bastard just grins back. "I don't care if you gain weight and can't wear your bikini. I'll buy you a new one. I'll still think you're the sexiest woman out there." He comes back over to the bed and sits next to me. "You are beautiful just the way you are." He kisses my forehead, and I melt into his embrace.
"Thank you," I whisper against his neck. My lips are right next to the tattoo of them on his skin.
I grin as I think about that game of Truth or Dare. Even then he was able to surprise me. It's what I love about him. He always finds a way to make things fun. Most people wouldn't agree to a dare like getting lips tattooed on your neck, but he did. What made it even better is that they are my lips. It's like he always has a part of me with him.
“Why did you do it?” I ask.
He absently rubs at his neck. "You mean the dare?" I nod. He looks down at me for a second before he answers. "I don't know. I thought it was funny. You thought it was such a good dare, too. In a way, I guess I always wanted a piece of you with me. You were too young for me then, so I took the next best thing.”
I laugh at his cheesiness as he wraps his arms around me and pulls me on top of him. "So… Pizza, Netflix, and chill?" I roll my eyes and push at his chest. "You're not saying no, so I'll take that as a yes."
“I don’t see how you can think this face is attractive right now. I know what Netflix and chill means.” I poke out my bottom lip and point to my puffy, bruised face.
"I'd still bang the shit out of you, no matter what you looked like. I'm fucking crazy about you." He kisses me on the lips. "So get your sexy, banged-up ass out of bed and get some damn clothes on because I'm not letting you out of here unless your pussy is covered. Enough people have gotten a look at what's mine in the last twelve hours. I'm not good with that." A growl rumbles in his chest, which makes me fall more in love with him.
"Okay, fine. I'll put some sweats on. But you can't expect me to go to school looking like this."
He places a kiss on my nose. “I don’t. I’m looking forward to having you in my bed every day until you decide you can cake on enough makeup to cover the bruise.”
I flip him the bird before getting off the bed and making my way toward the closet to find something to wear. I grab a bag and throw a couple pairs of leggings and baggy tees in it before making my way over to my dresser to find some camis and a few pairs of underwear. Once I get everything I need for a few days, I slip his shirt off and walk back to the closet wearing nothing. His groan fills my ears. Even though I know my face looks terrible, it's nice to hear him still want me.
In a way, it makes me feel better about myself. Like he might still like me, even if I did gain some weight or cut my hair off in some hideous little bob cut that does nothing for me. He'd still like me for me.