Page 11 of Baby, It’s You (Clairesville #1)

Hunter

O h my god. I just saw the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life and now she’s lying on the ground unconscious because I gravely injured her.

She looks like Snow White with fair skin, dark hair, and full, red lips.

But unlike Snow White, I’m not going to bend down and kiss an unconscious woman I just met.

Whoever thought that was a promising idea for a children’s story?

I quickly kneel next to her, alongside many other bar patrons.

One of them puts a cold beer on her forehead and the older man in the fox mask touches her arm gently saying, “Olive, Olive.”

I keep looking around at everyone while apologizing.

I couldn’t feel worse right now, as a big mammoth of a man comes out of what I assume is the kitchen.

He bends down next to her just as she begins to wake.

As her eyes blink open, she glances up at him looking completely confused and dazed. He helps her sit up.

“You good, Olive?” the burly guy asks.

She nods a little while feeling around her face and wincing when she gets to her nose. Her gaze then shoots over to her right, and she’s looking me directly in the eyes.

“You,” she says.

“I am so, so sorry,” I begin to say. “Please let me know what you need. I can drive you to the hospital right now. I will pay any medical bills. I am so sorry. I’m an idiot.”

I stutter over my words and then trail off.

She holds up a hand to get me to stop talking. “It’s okay. I fainted because I hate bloo?—”

She begins to sway back again. Most likely from thinking about the state of her face right now. I swoop my hand behind her back at the same time as the big man to keep her from falling back again.

The guy that wears a big top hat, Johnny, walks over with a wet bar rag and tells her to close her eyes. She complies and he gently begins to wipe around her face, removing the blood that has crusted around her nose and lips. She winces slightly but thanks him.

I feel Wes’s hand on my back and see that he and Eddie have moved to stand behind me. They realize how anxious I am right now. I look up from my spot on the ground, at Wes and Eddie, pleading with my eyes for them to help me figure out what to do.

Wes leans towards the bartender while she is still getting her face wiped off. “I just wanted to let you know that I’ve been skateboarding for years, and you took that slam better than most guys I’m seen.”

I give him an “are you kidding me!” face, but to my surprise she lets out a snort and responds, “Well, I think the Fruity O’s box protected me a little bit.”

Eddie chimes in, “I’m supper impressed. Now every time I go to the breakfast aisle at the grocery store, I’ll think of you.”

At that she lets out a full-on laugh and begins to slowly stand up from the ground. I move towards her and reach out my hand to assist her. She looks at my hand like it's made of daggers.

“I’m fine,” she says and stands without my help.

I could crawl in a hole and die right now.

She won’t even look at me and I can’t stop staring at her.

I feel like a freak. I have never wanted to meet someone for the first time again so badly in my life.

I want to have a do over, to see her out in public and meet her in some normal way.

Knowing that I physically caused this girl pain makes my chest feel tight.

She has her back to me now and is talking to an older gentleman and the giant man, reassuring them that she’s fine.

“Please let me take you to the hospital, Olive,” I say from behind her, my voice hoarse with concern. I have never wanted to reach out and comfort a person so badly in my life.

She whips her head around and looks taken aback. “How do you know my name?”

“Oh. Everyone was saying it while you were unconscious.” I scratch at the back of my neck, feeling increasingly more awkward. “Also, you have on a nametag.”

She looks down and laughs, “Ha, oh my gosh, duh!” Then she playfully slaps herself on the forehead.

I wince, not wanting her to cause any more damage to her face.

“I’m fine, totally fine!” she yelps out, but she doesn’t seem fine as she quickly walks off through the swinging door the big guy came out of.

I wait for forty-five minutes, watching the door for her to come back out, but she never does.

Instead, the big guy comes out and begins making the drinks.

He apologizes to the crowds saying he doesn’t know how to set up the karaoke machine, but everyone gets a shot on the house tonight for coming.

The guests let out a cheer and don’t seem like they mind the change, but I feel even worse about ruining the planned event.

Wes and Eddie try to start up conversation with me to make me feel better, but all I can do is stare at the metal door, wishing for and wanting it to swing open.

Life does not prepare you for situations like this.

Where was my “you just smacked the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen in your life in the face by accident with a bar stool while balancing it on your head like a tool and now she disappeared” course in high school?

It’s getting late, and the bar crowd begins to thin out.

The guys tell me they are ready to leave but I can’t get the feeling in the pit of my stomach to go away.

I won’t be able to sleep tonight because I will be replaying my interaction with her in my head, indefinitely.

I do the only thing I can before we take off.

I grab a piece of paper and a pen that are next to the blue “Task” bucket and write a note. Then I hand it to the big guy behind the bar. I ask him—practically plead with him—to give it to Olive.

He must take pity on me because he looks down at the note and grunts out an “Okay” as he puts it in his pocket.