Seeing her porcelain face trying hard to cover the agony from her fall, jabbed that pain in my chest. Whilst biting my lip to make an easier decision that would lessen her torment brightened the lightbulb in my head.

Piggyback rides are as cliché as they sound, but if it helps, then it helps.

I was holding the door open – common curtesy – that leads into the gymnasium was when I took notice of her tousled demeanor. She was limping on both feet with her fists clenching to their sides. Her milky sculpted legs were drizzled in both scratches and blood marks.

Although a blank expression was all she sported, her cherry red lips were victims of those slightly crooked front teeth. It barely stopped the hummed whimpers escaping the bitten lips; the image doused my annoyance to a minimum. Those enthralling green eyes were barely professed in the sight before me.

The warmth of her hands putting light pressure on my shoulders brings me back to reality, unintentionally flinching at the contact of them being separated from my t-s.h.i.+rt and the sweat off her palms.

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Feeling them were as gone as it felt, furrowing my brows in confusion; I am about to speak—

"Sorry," a soft mumble behind me giving myself odd chills. I strengthen my resolve and ignore the feeling, it's just a body part, I snark to myself. I turn my head baring my boring blue eyes into her emerald orbs.

I breathe slowly, teeth grinding against one another; unconsciously dragging my eyes further down without control. Absorbing her wrinkly music tee marked in several sand patches to her bunched-up running shorts – higher one showing off that silky—

Blinking, I slowly look up only to see what an innocent look could've been, a tiny, tiny curve of her red-wine lips turn into a side smirk.

f.u.c.k, we both know I just checked her out—

again.

Internally groaning, I mutter, "'tis kay," and turn my head around wiggling my hands. In mere seconds, her small hands clench my shoulders and her legs nudge my hands to grab her steady.

Now my palms are sweaty. It's a f.u.c.king girl.

Gulping, grip her thighs, relis.h.i.+ng how tantalizing they feel against my finger pads. In mere seconds, her arms wrap around my neck and instantly I am hit with the compelling smell of coconut. I have to breathe deeply, very slowly when the rest of her body leaned on my back.

I am this close to stumbling. The thought of worsening her pain reeled in all the glorious balance G.o.ds I need.

"Hold on," I ch.o.r.e out under my breath and lift her up, the grip of her arms tightening further has me trying desperately blinking away the skin on skin contact dangerously rubbing my ticklish spot, my f.u.c.king neck.

Jesus-f.u.c.king-Christ.