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“Oh, come on. You know you’re crazy smart. That debate you got into with the history prof last week blew me away. How do you know so much about what we’re studying if you’ve never even opened our textbook?”
“I said I don’t open textbooks. That doesn’t mean I don’t openotherbooks,” he says, winking. “I don’t know. School’s always been no big deal for me. I’m really lucky that way. I retain information very easily.”
“School’s never come easy to me,” I say, tucking my hair behind my ears. “I have to work really hard for every single grade. I’ve always done well, but it’s not easy.”
“All your hard work will pay off some day when you’re a music journalist, right?”
“Hopefully.”
He leans his head back against the bed, then turns to look at me and flashes a sexy smile that shows his dimples. The effect it has on me is instantaneous, and I feel heat begin to climb up my neck and into my cheeks.
“Eli, why did you help me when I was sick?” I ask suddenly. “Not many people would have done that.”
He lifts the beer can to his lips, then pauses. “Because I know what it’s like to need help and have no one around to give it. I wasn’t going to let you go through that.”
“What do you mean?”
He wipes off his mouth with the back of his hand. “My first semester here, there was a mix-up, and I ended up with a single room. Most people would love that, you know? But I really wanted a roommate. Anyway, the first week I was here, my superhuman immune system failed me. I got really sick with some kind of lung infection. Bronchitis, maybe? I don’t know. I just know that I’ve never been so fucking sick in my entire life. I lost like six pounds.”
He takes another drink of his beer. “I laid in bed hacking up a lung, a total fevered mess for most of the week. And because I was alone, I didn’t have anyone to help me.”
“Thankfully, my mom had packed me a bunch of stuff like Tylenol and cough drops before I left. Came in handy. So did the hundred bucks she’d slipped me. That paid for the pizza I ordered all week. Not that I was able to get much of it down, but it kept me from starving.”
“Holy shit. That sucks.”
“It did,” he agrees.
“I know it’s not much, but that’s why I wanted to bring over dinner—to thank you for all your help.”
“And it was delicious,” he says with a smile. “You saved me from another boring meal at the cafeteria.”
My phone buzzes with a text, and I fish it out of my pocket. It’s Beckett, and he wants me to come to another one of his shows next week.
“Fuck,” I mumble. I really don’t want to spend another evening boiling to death in a tiny hole-in-the-wall place.
Eli nods toward my phone. “What’s up?”
“Beckett. There’s another FearAttack show next week, and he wants me to come.”
Eli shoots me an annoyed look. “Did he even bother to ask how you were feeling after he infected you with his motherfucking germs?”
Glancing back down at my phone, I try not to visibly react to his outburst. It’s no secret he’s not Beckett’s biggest fan. “Yeah. He checked in a few days ago.”
I reply with a “maybe” to Beckett, then shove the phone into my pocket.
Eli lets out a snort. “Yeah, I’m sure he felt really bad.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know, Holland. He’s supposedly into you, but from what I’ve seen, he just acts like a fucking dick.”
“You’ve met himonetime,” I argue. “How does that make you an expert on whether or not he’s a dick?”
His tone turns icy. “Because I justknow, that’s how.”
“Oh, well that changes everything,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Come on, Eli. I know he’s not your favorite person, but he’s still my friend.”
“If that’s the case, then maybe you should take a class on how to pick out better fucking friends, because you sure could use the help.” He balls up the burger wrapper and hurls it at the wastebasket.
