“What?” Shit. “Are you dizzy? Do you feel like you’re going to throw up?” Maybe he’d gotten hurt worse than she’d suspected.
“No. It’s blood,” Sebastian said, his voice faint. He’d wrapped his arms around himself and had tucked his hands into his armpits. “I get sick if I look at blood.”
Awesome, Abby thought. This day just kept getting better. “Okay. Don’t look. Just keep your eyes closed.” Except she was worried that if he tried to stay perched on the guardrail with his eyes shut, he’d end up falling backward into the culvert, and she’d have to go pull him out, and wouldn’t that just be the cherry on top of the day’s mud-and-misery sundae? “Can you stand up? Good. Hold my arm. Come with me.” She led him, hobbling, down the street, to where a tree in the middle of an empty lot gave some shelter from the wind and rain. It probably made an excellent target for the lightning, too, but Abby couldn’t worry about too many things at once. When they arrived, she put her hand on his shoulder, half-coaxing, half-pushing him down onto the wet grass. “Put your head between your legs. Take deep breaths.” She could see him shivering, could hear his inhalations, but at least he wasn’t arguing. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his lips were pressed together so tightly that they’d all but disappeared.
“Deep breaths,” Abby repeated, crouching down to inspect the wounds, which seemed to be lots of long but shallow scratches. “In for a count of four, hold for a count of four, blow out for a count of four. I’m going to clean your knees off, then bandage them. And then I’ll see about getting us an Uber. Okay? You just keep breathing, and keep your eyes shut.” She squirted off the bulk of the grit with her water bottle, then tore open an alcohol-soaked gauze pad. “Little sting,” she murmured, before swiping his knee. She saw him flinch, heard a tiny moan as she worked. She tried to be quick and as gentle as possible as she cleaned the scrapes.
“It’s not everyone’s blood. Not blood in general. Just my own,” Sebastian said. His eyes were still shut, face still pale as skim milk.
Okay, tough guy, Abby thought.
“I’m not a tough guy,” Sebastian said, and made a noise that sounded like laughter but contained very little humor. Abby realized she’d been talking out loud. Oops.
“No,” she said, mostly to herself, “you’re just inconsiderate.”
“You’re right,” he said, through his chattering teeth. “You’re right and I’m sorry.”
She washed the grit and rainwater off her fingers before opening the packets of Neosporin and starting to dab it onto his scratches.
“It’s easier if you just keep moving,” he said.
Abby looked up. His eyes were shut, lips pressed tight together, rain streaming down his face. “What’s easier?”
“Everything.”
She wondered if he was talking only about the day’s ride, or if he was referring to something else. The TikTok mess? Their own history?
“You were right about me. I’ve never had a girlfriend. Not a real one.”
“That’s okay,” Abby said. She finished with his left kneecap and moved on to his right. “Maybe you just haven’t met the right person yet.”
“No. That’s not it. I just”—he extended his arm, palm flat—“kept it moving. Different girls, all the time. Maybe one of them was the right person.” He made a rueful noise. “Maybe it was even the girl who made that first video.”
Abby considered. She’d seen the first video, and the petite, dark-haired girl who’d made it. The girl had been pretty. She looked like a good fit for Sebastian. No one would stare at the two of them and wonder at the mismatch.
In a voice almost too soft for her to hear, Sebastian said, “Or maybe it was you.”
Abby felt herself stiffen, her face suddenly warm in spite of the rain. “Oh, I don’t think…”
“It’s okay,” he said. Kindly. “I just want to be your friend.”
Which should not have been a disappointing thing to hear, Abby thought. She should have felt relieved, if she felt anything at all. And yet.
She finished his second leg, considered patting his thigh, or even squeezing it, and decided, instead, to say, in a cheery, chipper tone, “All done!”
“Great.” He got to his feet, wobbling slightly, with his eyes still shut. “You go ahead and I’ll catch up.”
Abby stared at him. “Sebastian,” she said, slowly and clearly. “We’re not riding anymore. We need to go to a hospital. Remember?”