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“Do you have class this morning?”
“What time is it?” I ask.
“Quarter to nine.”
“I don’t have class until eleven.” I swing my legs over the side of his bed, then wince as my head goes fuzzy.
“Shit.” I grab onto the mattress, trying to get my bearings, but the dizziness intensifies.
An alarmed look crosses Eli’s face, and he places his hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”
To be honest, I don’t think I am. I feel really weird. Like my limbs are weighted down. My head begins to pound, and I realize that my t-shirt is sticking to me from sweat.
I didn’t drink enough to have a hangover, so what the eff is going on?
“I don’t know.”
“Your eyes are all glassy.” He touches my cheek with his hand. “And you feel pretty warm. Do you feel sick?”
“Sick? Oh, no,” I groan. “I wonder if I’ve got Beckett’s bug. He looked pretty bad yesterday.”
Eli swears under his breath. “Were you around himbeforeyesterday?”
“Yeah. For our Philosophy study group. Me and Jasmine.”
“I think you better skip class today.”
“Maybe,” I mutter. “I’ll see how I feel.”
“Can you get back to your dorm okay?” he asks. “Do you need some help?”
I give him a scornful look. “Why, are you going to carry me there or something? Swing me over your shoulder?”
“Hey, I’m trying to be gentlemanly over here.” He gives me a mock wounded look. “Cut me some slack.”
“I’m sorry. That was shitty of me,” I mumble. “I’m just grumpy. Go to class. I’ll be fine.”
He pauses in the doorway. “Okay. I hope you feel better.”
I attempt a wave. “K. Thanks.”
Once he’s gone, I flop back down onto his bed and rest my arm over my eyes.
I just have to get dressed and get back to my dorm room. I can do this. Though with how I’m feeling at the moment, crawling might be my best option. I probably should have let him help me.
Rubbing my temples doesn’t give me any relief, and the dizziness is ridiculous. Everything is spinning, even with me lying down. I squeeze my eyes closed and let out another groan.
My day started with Eli calling me sweetheart, then went from bad to worse in the span of a few seconds.
I guess it’s just my luck.
* * *
An hour later, I’m lying on my bed in utter misery, sweating and shivering under the covers.
Mandi’s on her side of the room, shoving clothes into a duffel bag.
“I’m sorry, Holland, I just can’t get sick. I’m a terrible sick person. Johanna said I could crash at her place until you’re better.”
