I shake my head, and it’s a huge mistake. Pain wings across my temples.
“Wait, really? You’ve never had Covid? What planet are you from?”
“This one,” I mumble, even though everything feels alien right now. My head is hot, my throat is on fire and even my sheets feel scratchy. “Just go to California, already. Unless you can stop the walls from doing that…wiggling thing. Then do that first.”
“Uh, wiggling thing?” He glances around the room, looking uneasy. “Beck, who you gonna call if you feel worse? Or if you need help?”
“I won’t need help.” I close my eyes to end the conversation. “I just need sleep.”
“Your mom is all the way in Maine. But you could call Forest, right?”
“Sure.” As if I’d ever do that. The last thing he needs is to get sick, and he sure doesn’t need one more person to take care of. “You’ll miss the bus.”
“Okay, okay. I'm going. Call me tonight, though. I need proof of life.”
Just make it stop. “Why are you giving mother hen vibes, dude?”
“Because you seem so…” He bites his lip.
“Sick?” I cough, and my ribs hurt from the violence of it.
“Yeah, man.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Hang in there. Keep that fever down. Drink your ice water. And your next dose of Advil is in one hour.”
“Will do.” My eyes drift closed.
He finally leaves, and I lie very still, conserving my strength. I can’t afford to be sick. The Ice Cats will lose games, and the Cougars will forget my phone number.
I’m not taking that medicine, either. Fever is a natural process. I’m just gonna let the sickness burn right out of me.
Besides, it’s not all bad. I can hear colors now. Red and orange are nice. And the gray of my comforter makes kind of a hum. Blue is too fucking loud, though. “Keep that shit down,” I yell at my bathrobe, where it hangs on the back of my closet door.
It yells louder, and the walls do that shaky thing again. But whatever.
I’d drink the ice water, except it hurts to swallow.
Fuck it. Fuck the whole world.
It’s very dark in my room when I feel a presence. My eyes snap open. “Who’s there?” I croak, but my throat hurts so bad I hardly make a noise. I free my hands from the covers, just in case I need to fight off the bathrobe. After all that yelling, it might be coming for me.
God, it’s heavy, too, because I feel the mattress dip. I make two fists and punch in that direction.
“Whoa, buddy,” says a deep voice. A wonderful voice, actually. My favorite voice.
“Stop it,” I snarl. “You’re not Forest.”
There’s a low chuckle, and two strong hands catch mine. “It’s dark in here, I’ll give you that. It’s me, though. Promise.”
I take a deep breath, and his woodsy scent is right here. But it could still be a trick. “But I didn’t text you.” I think that over. “Did I?”
“No.” Kind fingers push the hair off my forehead, and then he sucks in a breath. “Jesus, you’re hot.”
“I know. That’s why Forest fucks me. I’d be history, otherwise.”
He makes a noise of dismay. “Beck, hon. I mean your temperature. It’s through the roof.”
“Oh. That’s just a fever.”
“Just a fever.” He sighs. “You feel like a Texas sidewalk in July. When’s the last time you had Advil?”
