Hayes’s BMW, just as he pulled up to the doors of the emergency room at the Stanford Medical Center. My head hurt like it’d never hurt before. Lucas—both of him—sort of swooped by in a lazy, sickening circle, holding the doors for us as Dr. Hayes carried me in, and then the black swarmed over my vision again. “I think she’s concussed,” I heard someone say off in the distance, and then time blinked out.Until a bright light shone in one eye. Then in the other. Ow.“Hello, young lady,” a deep voice said. “Decided to join us, did you?”“Unngh.”“I’m Dr. Matsuda. They tell me you tripped and fell.”“Uh-hunngh.”“Looks like you clipped your temple on the corner of a dresser or bed frame or some other hard object. We stitched you up while you were out.”Gross. Thank you for that.“How many?” Was I going to be bald on one side?“Just three. They’ll disappear on their own in a week or so.”“Thanks.”“Look up, then down, please.” I did. “Your responses are good.
What do You think about The Fruit Of My Lipstick (2008)?
