That Popular Guy, Yeah, I Destroyed Him - Chapter 7: Chapter 7
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A dark bruise marred his shoulder—undeniable proof that Parker hadn't pulled his punches.
If that had landed on me, the damage would've been unthinkable.
"Are you playing basketball or starting a brawl? Zero self-control," the school nurse chided, shaking her head. "A guy your size should know better. Hey, you—come here and help me patch him up."
I nodded and stepped closer.
The wound on his back was brutal.
"What's with the stare? Never seen a battle scar before?"
Luke flashed a careless grin. "Lucky it was me. If that hit you, you'd be bawling your eyes out—and trust me, that's not a good look."
I dabbed the medicine onto his skin, muttering, "Shut it."
Beyond the curtain, the nurse tended to other students.
"…Why are you so pissed?"
Luke sat shirtless, muscles tense.
My hands trembled slightly as I worked.
He turned his head, and for once, those usually playful eyes were dead serious.
"Aren't you mad about how he treats you?"
I shook my head. "I'm used to it."
"Why not fight back?"
"Pointless," I murmured, pressing the cotton gently to his skin. "The more I push back, the more he enjoys it. The guy's twisted—no reasoning with him. His whole family's messed up. If I snitch again, he'll just catch another beating and take it out on me twice as hard."
Luke fell silent.
Just as I finished applying the medicine and turned to wash my hands, he grabbed my wrist.
Slowly, deliberately, he wiped the ointment from my fingertips.
"Then look at me," he said, his voice low.
"Why are you running?"
The moment we stepped out of the infirmary, Luke caught up to me.
He was still shrugging into his school uniform as he jogged, the fabric doing little to hide his athletic build. "Do I scare you that much?"
"No."
"Then stop running."
He cut me off, his voice dropping to a murmur.
"You think I don't know about you and Parker? We're close, remember?"
"Then why are you still bothering with me?"
There was an edge to my words—accusation, maybe even hurt.
Luke paused, then laughed. "'Bothering you'? Seriously, desk mate, where's your gratitude? I took a ball to the face for you. Don't I deserve something in return?"
"...I have no gratitude."
Every inch of me screamed stay away.
But he just grinned and ruffled my hair like I was some stubborn kid.
"Fine, you little ingrate."
If that had landed on me, the damage would've been unthinkable.
"Are you playing basketball or starting a brawl? Zero self-control," the school nurse chided, shaking her head. "A guy your size should know better. Hey, you—come here and help me patch him up."
I nodded and stepped closer.
The wound on his back was brutal.
"What's with the stare? Never seen a battle scar before?"
Luke flashed a careless grin. "Lucky it was me. If that hit you, you'd be bawling your eyes out—and trust me, that's not a good look."
I dabbed the medicine onto his skin, muttering, "Shut it."
Beyond the curtain, the nurse tended to other students.
"…Why are you so pissed?"
Luke sat shirtless, muscles tense.
My hands trembled slightly as I worked.
He turned his head, and for once, those usually playful eyes were dead serious.
"Aren't you mad about how he treats you?"
I shook my head. "I'm used to it."
"Why not fight back?"
"Pointless," I murmured, pressing the cotton gently to his skin. "The more I push back, the more he enjoys it. The guy's twisted—no reasoning with him. His whole family's messed up. If I snitch again, he'll just catch another beating and take it out on me twice as hard."
Luke fell silent.
Just as I finished applying the medicine and turned to wash my hands, he grabbed my wrist.
Slowly, deliberately, he wiped the ointment from my fingertips.
"Then look at me," he said, his voice low.
"Why are you running?"
The moment we stepped out of the infirmary, Luke caught up to me.
He was still shrugging into his school uniform as he jogged, the fabric doing little to hide his athletic build. "Do I scare you that much?"
"No."
"Then stop running."
He cut me off, his voice dropping to a murmur.
"You think I don't know about you and Parker? We're close, remember?"
"Then why are you still bothering with me?"
There was an edge to my words—accusation, maybe even hurt.
Luke paused, then laughed. "'Bothering you'? Seriously, desk mate, where's your gratitude? I took a ball to the face for you. Don't I deserve something in return?"
"...I have no gratitude."
Every inch of me screamed stay away.
But he just grinned and ruffled my hair like I was some stubborn kid.
"Fine, you little ingrate."
End of That Popular Guy, Yeah, I Destroyed Him Chapter 7. Continue reading Chapter 8 or return to That Popular Guy, Yeah, I Destroyed Him book page.