Quote by Laura Tims

“It’s the first time a boy has been in my room, but Eliot probably doesn’t qualify as a boy in the boy sense. I shove aside dirty clothes on my bed to make space. I’ve taken care of enough injured teammates to know what to do. “How’s your head?” “More functional than most.” “Are you dizzy?” “What about you? Are you all right?” “Answer, don’t ask.” “Typical ISFJ, playing doctor.” “Oh, Jesus. Tell me what just happened. Do you remember?” “You were there.” “Eliot.” “I may not have thought it through. But that’s a rarity, I promise.” “That is so obviously a true thing you just said.” I shine my phone flashlight in Eliot’s face. He squints. Regular dilation. “I don’t think you have a concussion. Does anything feel broken?” “Just my dignity.” “It’ll recover.” I dip a clean sock in the glass of water on my bedside table and wipe blood off his jaw. “Thank you,” he says quietly.”

Quote by Laura Tims