I couldn't recall anything about the accident. All I knew was that I was ecstatic one moment, then I awoke in agonizing pain. My arm was on fire and throbbing. People hovered around me, spouting out words I didn't understand. They shined lights in my eyes. Made me follow along with their finger. They asked my name, the year, the current president. I answered them all, but I had my own questions:

"Where is Clay?"

"What happened to Clay?"

"Is Clay alright?"

If I was in that kind of pain, what must've happened to him? He was much closer to the impact.

The doctors shot something into my IV to calm me down, to stop me trying to escape to find Clay. He was all that mattered.

A different class of pain arose once my mother arrived, furious and terrified. She barked at me for skipping school one second, then kissed my face the next. If the accident didn't give me whiplash, her mood shifts certainly did.

Seeing Clay in one piece flooded me with ebullience—one of Carrie's words. I'd never been so happy to see another human's face in my entire life. Not even that time I got a meet-and-greet with Taylor Swift.

When I first heard about the accident, I worried Clay might take this as some sign from the universe that we were making a mistake. I worried even more when Carrie and Jackson caught us kissing. Clay went so pale, I wondered if he was going to pass out.

I tried to stay focused on him, but Carrie rushed me and started mumbling in my ear. "I love you so much, Emmie. Don't you ever leave me. And don't ever scare me like that again. I can't live without you."

"I'll do my best," I whispered, giving her cheek a kiss.

Thankfully, it seemed like Jackson accepted the information without struggle or prejudice. Though Clay remained tense—even his jaw muscles were rigid—until they left.

A couple hours after Mrs. Miller left, Clay sent Mr. Miller out for drinks, and I sent my mother in search of a better pillow and more blankets. I didn't really need them. I just wanted time alone with Clay. "I'm sorry I called you my boyfriend in front of Jackson. I didn't mean to out you. I'm just kinda scrambled."

Clay placed his arm around me, bringing me close. He kissed my temple. "I'm pretty sure my tongue being down your throat is what outed me."

"So, you aren't mad at me?"

Clay reached up to stroke my cheek. "With this face. How could I ever be mad at you?"

We made out until our parents returned, at which point we cuddled under the blanket my mother brought back, and watched old sitcoms until I fell asleep.

When Janine woke me for my head check, Clay was gone. I scanned the room, only to find it empty. It was dark outside now, where it had been fully daylight just a moment ago.

Noticing my search, Janine said, "Your mom went down to the cafeteria a minute ago. I'm sure she'll be right back."

"Where is Clay?"

"Your boyfriend got tossed out. Visiting hours ended twenty minutes ago." She pointed to the clock on the wall. It was almost nine o'clock. That meant he stayed with me for over an hour while I just slept.

"Oh."

"He did not look happy to leave, though. In case you were wondering."

I smiled.

"He almost ran into a wall because he was staring back at your door like it might disappear if he took his eyes off it."

"How long do I have to stay in here?"

"Normally, we would've discharged you by now. But your mother insisted that we keep you overnight."

"She's way overprotective."

Janine chuckled. "Apparently, she knows some bigwigs on the hospital board and got some strings pulled to keep you in for observation."

"She probably asked Mom," I said this mostly to myself. I didn't even really mean to say it out loud.

"Sweetheart, your mom is the one who did the asking." Janine brought out her pen light again, asking those same dumbass questions everyone kept repeating.

"It's not the concussion." I pushed her hand away. "I'm talking about someone else."

"You have two moms?"

"Sort of." I explained about Dr. Herrera.

"That makes sense," Janine said, returning the light to her pocket. "Dr. Herrera definitely has a lot of pull around here."

That much, I knew. Carrie's mother was the head of the psychiatric department for this hospital.

"So, I can't leave, right?"

"Are you sick of me already? Or have you got big plans?"

"Clay and I were supposed to have a date—our first date—tonight."

"You haven't even had your first date, and he's already told you he loves you. How'd you manage that?" She poked my shoulder and chuckled.

"Our situation is kinda complicated."

"Just wait until your twenties, handsome. You ain't seen complicated yet. The stories I could tell." Janine shook her head, making a humming sound in the back of her throat.

"Can I ask you something? Medically speaking."

Janine gripped the ends of her stethoscope, raising her brows. "That's what I'm here for."

"Can I have sex? Like with the thing?" I pointed to my head.

Her lips spread into a wide grin. She patted my shoulder. "No strenuous physical activity for at least a week, the doctor said."

"Okay. But what about like oral? That's hardly strenuous."

Janine shook her head and placed her hand on her hip. "What makes you think that boy even wants to do that? You just said you haven't even been on a first date."

"We've been friends for a while now, and we've both had feelings for each other the whole time. And what seventeen-year-old guy doesn't want sex all the time? Besides, you saw him. I really want to get on that."

Janine snorted, trying not to laugh. "You are a mess, Mr. Noble."

"It's not my fault that my boyfriend is smoking hot. Can you blame me for wanting to see him naked?"

"Emmett!"

I looked past Janine to see my mother in the doorway, holding a plastic carryout box. "Hi, Mom. We're just talking about my activities after the concussion."

"I heard what you were talking about. And you should leave poor Janine out of it."

I wish she hadn't heard that. But there was nothing I could do about it now. We had "the talk" three years ago. It was uncomfortable, to say the least. For both of us. I still wasn't sure I was over that humiliation yet.

"It's her job to answer my questions." I pointed at the nurse. "She said so."

Janine grinned at me and rubbed my shoulder. "It's about time for me to clock out, anyway. I probably won't see you again before you leave, but it was really nice to meet you, Emmett. I hope everything works out with your boyfriend. You two seem sweet together."

"Thanks, Janine." I saluted her. "It was a pleasure to be in your care. Even if I wanted to strangle you with your stethoscope a couple times."

"Emmett Andreas Noble!" My mother sounded outraged. She even used my middle name. I loved my grandpa dearly, but why did I have to get stuck with his name? I had six male cousins to take the mantle. Thinking on it, I was almost certain at least one of the younger ones did have it as their first name, but no one called him that. He had some nickname in Greek that I couldn't recall at the moment. I wasn't sure if it was the concussion clouding my mind or the fact that I only knew about twenty words of the language. Six of those were numbers (including zero). Most of the rest were swear words.

Janine just laughed and waved as she headed out.

"She knows I was kidding," I said.

Mom walked around the bed to set her plate on the rolling tray table. The salad inside was so brightly colored it almost looked fake. Like the manicured hamburgers they used in commercials for fast-food chains. The food never looked that good at the restaurant because the commercials used everything from glue to hairspray to make it look appealing.

She carefully drizzled the salad dressing from a plastic pouch. "Honey, I was talking to Clay's mother. She said Clay is just now starting to come out to people."

"I know. He just came out to me today. Sorta."

Clay never actually said the words. He never labeled himself. So I wasn't even sure if he was bisexual or something else. He had mentioned at least three girlfriends to me, so it seemed like the most logical label, but there were others that might fit. Then again, he might just be a gay guy who dated a few girls. They existed too.

Mom nodded, as if my statement confirmed whatever she was thinking. "You should take things slow with him. He may not be ready to jump into the more serious stuff just yet."

"I think I was his first boy kiss." Those weren't exactly the words I meant, but they got my point across.

"See, that's what I mean," she said. "Just because you've done things, and might want to do them with him, it doesn't mean he's ready for that."

I nodded. She had a point. I would have to let Clay lead the way on this. Which was exactly what Dr. Herrera instructed me to do, before I ignored her professional advice and confronted Clay about his feelings. Maybe this time it would stick.