Sitting on the curb, I watched as Andre was hauled into the ambulance.

He was such an idiot, look where that got him--hurt!

The motorcycle was heading straight for me; tears blurred my vision.

I was sure that I would get hit, I wanted to move, but I couldn't.

"Quinn!" Andre pushed me out of the way.

I cried on the ground. Now he was going to get hit!

Why couldn't he leave me alone?

"Quinn, you okay?" We were now in the hospital waiting room. Andre was said to be okay; he hurt his leg and just needed a little rest.

"I'm fine, mom." I pulled a jacket over me. I was perfectly fine, physically. I was a little shaken up, guilt taking over my thoughts.

I kept blaming myself for this accident. Maybe a sign from destiny to tell me I'm too dramatic for my own good.

This drama was a lot to handle emotionally, and I was causing this.

But what else can I do?

I liked Andre so much that I was afraid of losing him like my father!

"Quinn, I think I can help you," Dad said. We were riding in the car.

"How so?" I asked. At the time, I had no friends and was alone.

I quit cheerleading because all of my old friends were there too and seemed to hate me.

"I'm going to take you to a counselor." He said, looking straight ahead.

"What? No!" I protested.

"Quinn, there's nothing to fear."

I shook my head. "In not going!" I yelled; I didn't need a therapist.

"You need to talk to someone!"

I shook my head, "no, I don't!" My dad became silent.

"Dad, look at me." He glanced over. "I'm not going."

The next happened so fast yet so slow.

Dad wasn't paying attention. Two cars from the left crashed straight into us—crushing dad's side of the vehicle.

I never want to go through that again.

My mom wrapped her arm around my shoulder, "quit it, Quinn."

She said sternly. "Don't blame yourself, don't do this. Andre needs you."

Those cliché words made my stomach churn. Andre couldn't possibly need me; I caused this!

"Mom, I know you're trying to help but," she hushed me.

"I know you better than you think; you're practically having an emotional war inside your head." I chuckled at the way she described it. I mean, it was exaggerated but accurate.

"Didn't you ever think that pushing Andre away might cause you to lose him?" No, I hadn't really imagined that to be a possibility.

"I've never seen you act this way around a boy Quinn, I think you love him." I actually laughed at her words.

"No disrespect, mom, but you're insane. I wouldn't call it love." She mocked me with a hum. "Okay, Quinn, if you say so."

~~~~~~~~~

My hand was inches away from Andre's room doorknob.

"Quinn, Andre really wants to see you," Angie said. The woman really looked tired.

I felt terrible, and I hope I didn't upset her. "O-okay," I mumbled, not wanting to cause any more trouble.

Mr. Sanders looked down at me, smiling. "Go get 'em." He whispered, cheering me on. That put a small smile on my face.

I opened the door, thinking of how Andre's father cheered me on.

I walked into the room, looking at Andre as he laid on the hospital bed.

Scratches and bruises on his body, his right leg was wrapped in a cast.

I quietly sat on the chair. Andre looked at me, smiling. "Don't smile like that!" I blushed, turning away.

Andre chuckled, "I can't help it."

I frowned, "how can you be so happy?"

He rolled his eyes. "I'm alive, and a pretty girl is sitting right in front of me. What more do I need?"

It was silent in the room; neither of us spoke. It was a peaceful silence, something I enjoyed very much.

Andre broke the silence, smiling as always.

"Give us a chance, Quinn." I was so tired of fighting with my emotions.

I slowly nodded my head, prepared for whatever was going to happen.

He yawned, then grinned like an idiot.

"No take-backs." He dozed off to sleep. What did I do to deserve a great person?