‘Sip this,’ I say, kneeling next to him and handing him the bottle of water, ‘and then drink some of this.’ I pop the sports drink next to him. ‘You’ll be dehydrated after being so sick so you need to get some electrolytes into your system, too.’
He unscrews the cap quickly and begins to glug it down. I almost want to swat the bottle out of his hand because he’s only going to make himself throw up again doing that. Instead, I just steady his hand and hold the bottle for him. ‘Sip,’ I command, ‘otherwise you’re going to end up being sick again.’
He glares at me in response, almost as if he’s questioning why on earth he should listen to me. His stomach begins to grumble again, and he finally listens, restricting himself to small sips. Hey, he’s the one who called me instead of literally everyone else on the planet and I still don’t have a clue why.
Having done my job, I think about leaving. I really should … except his skin looks like death and his eyes are closed in pain. For the first time since we started working together, he looks vulnerable and alone. My sister might be the nurse in the family, but she’s not here and I can’t leave him on his own in this state. I need to look after him. No matter how annoying and infuriating he is. There’s a sheen of sweat across the top of his forehead and when I lean in to get an idea of his temperature, I can instantly feel he’s hot.
‘I think you’re running a fever. How about I go sort you out some fresh clothes and then you can get changed and get back into bed.’
He groans, but eventually nods.
It’s weird to be rifling through Harper’s messily packed kit bags, but I find what I’m looking for in the shape of a baggy T-shirt and some boxers, which look a size too big. Not that I know what he’s packing down there. I quickly shove that thought out of my brain.
I slip back into the bathroom, finding him exactly where I left him, pitifully clutching his stomach on the floor. ‘Do you think you can stand?’ I ask from the doorway and he shakes his head, before taking a couple more sips of water.
Christ, he’s really going to make me do this.
Crouching on the floor next to him, I gesture to the sweat-soaked T-shirt, which is clinging to his torso. ‘Am I okay to take this off?’
He nods, but the second my fingers skim the hem of his shirt he inhales a shaky breath. He doesn’t have to tell me this is awkward. I’m quick but careful as I strip him out of it; a sheen of sweat coats his chest and stomach.
‘One second.’ I pause, grabbing a washcloth from the hotel-provided pile and drench it in cold water before wiping him down.
His sweatpants are next, luckily with him being stretched out on the tiled floor I whip them off in one swift movement. I shouldn’t be surprised he’s naked beneath them, he seems like the type to enjoy going commando. Getting a clean pair of boxers on him proves to be much more difficult than taking off his sweats, but we make it work without the world ending over how weird this is.
I give him another second to enjoy the coolness of the cloth on his chest before drying him off with the hand towel and pulling the new, oversized T-shirt over his head.
The whole time, he’s been watching me, eyes half-lidded. I’d describe it as awe if he didn’t look moments from passing out.
‘Come on, let’s get you to bed.’ I tuck my arms under his shoulder to lift him off the floor and move one around his waist for support as we trudge back into the bedroom, before lowering him down on the bed.
He’s lethargic and looks damn exhausted as he shuffles across the bed. Why does this make me want to do nice things for him?
I find myself pulling back the duvet currently on his bed and grabbing a spare sheet from the wardrobe to drape over him. ‘You don’t want to overheat, so get comfy under this and then when your temperature comes down grab the duvet again. I should probably call the team doctor and ask for his opinion in case it isn’t just food poisoning and you have a stomach bug or something.’
‘No!’ he calls out, quickly interjecting. ‘Don’t notify them. They’ll just think I’m hungover and I don’t need a bollocking right now.’
‘Okay, okay.’ I’m holding my hands up defensively, but I can kind of see his point. We’ve both been chewed out enough recently by management. ‘I just don’t want you to get worse and not know what to do.’
A moment of realisation zings through me. ‘My sister is a nurse. How about I call her if you don’t perk up within the next twelve hours? Food poisoning – if that’s what this is – can get really bad, or it might be something else and you actually need medical attention.’
‘Sure. Not like she reports to the team or whatever, right?’ Harper’s struggling to keep his eyes open at this point, but every time he seemingly gets comfortable, he has to reach up and swipe his matted, sweaty curls off his head.
Something weird has come over me, because seconds later I’m in his bathroom, dampening yet another flannel with cold water, wringing it out and folding it into the perfect forehead size for Harper. Just call me Florence fucking Nightingale.
‘Am I okay to put this on your head?’ I dangle the cloth in front of him and he nods, so I sweep the curls off his forehead and replace them with the soothing flannel.
The noise that escapes his lips at the contact of the icy coolness on his forehead should be illegal, and my groin definitely shouldn’t be twitching.
The man is sick, Kian. Come on.
‘Thank you,’ he mumbles as he finally relaxes into his pillow.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been perched on the side of his bed for, but it’s definitely a couple of hours. Between scrolling social media and sending some emails, I’ve been checking on his fever every half hour or so, and I’ve done that at least three times. He’s still running warm, but nowhere near the scorching temperature his forehead was the first time I checked.
He’s not stirred for a while, either. For the first hour or so he thrashed under the sheet, arms wrapped around his stomach, and I was convinced he was going to wake up and be sick again. Eventually, however, he settled.
I check the world clock on my phone and it’s probably an okay time for me to call Elise, just to check I’m doing everything I should, so I slip into his bathroom and click her name on my phone.
