“Whenever Rigsy made me. What are you even doing here?” I ask the stranger who’s imitating Forest. It’s totally not cool that this guy is in my room. Except his hands in my hair feel really nice.
“Got a text from Rigsy,” the guy says. “Told me you were sick, and he left the key under the mat.”
“Oh.” That’s plausible. Or else my delusions are super detailed. Could really go either way.
“Where’s the medicine, Beck?” He uses his dad voice.
“Don’t need it.” I close my eyes as those gentle fingers push the sweaty hair off my forehead. “Fever is a natural process.”
“Okay. Sure. But either you take the stuff, or you come to the ER with me just for a check-in on this natural process. Your call.”
Ugh. No. “Nice of you to stop by, but it’s all good. Now that it’s dark out, I can’t hear the bathrobe yelling at me anymore. I can sleep it off.”
There’s a silence, which hopefully means this guy has decided to see things my way. But then he speaks again, in another voice. It’s quiet, but it’s somehow even scarier than the dad voice, if I’m honest. “Beck, I’m going to find the Advil, and you’re going to take it. Or we go to the urgent care immediately.”
He gets up and disappears on quiet feet. I drift a little, my brain taking me on a strange tour of my junior high school. I whirl down the corridor toward the nurse’s office.
Becker James, you have a fever, the nurse says.
I turn and run from her, heading for the gymnasium, which is set up for bowling, instead of one of the cool activities like kickball or rock climbing.
“Bowling,” I mutter. “Almost as stupid as square dancing.”
“What’s wrong with bowling?” asks Forest’s voice. “I’m going to need you to sit up and explain.”
God it’s so obvious, so I do sit up to explain. “Gutter balls. Rental shoes. So much bacteria. But mostly there’s no goalie. What the fuck? The pins are just sitting there asking for it.”
Low laughter. And then somehow there are pills in my palm, and my hand is guided toward my mouth. I taste their sweet coatings a second later, and the only obvious solution is to swallow them.
A cold glass of water finds its way into my hand after that, and I take a sip to wash away the nasty taste of the pills. “Ugh. You happy?”
“I will be, once your temperature goes down. You own a thermometer?”
“No? Is that a thing people have?”
He sighs. “I’d feel better if a doctor saw you.”
“You’d feel better, but I wouldn’t.” I flop back onto my sweat-dampened pillow. “And who’s the priority here?”
My visitor lets out another sigh, and his hand finds its way onto my damp forehead again. “Okay. We’ll give it a couple hours.”
“Before what?”
“Before I panic,” he says tightly.
“Nah.” I yawn. “You won’t panic. You’re a stranger. Why would you care?”
The fingers go still on my head. “Beck, I’m not a stranger. Hey. You’re scaring me.”
“Well, you’re certainly not Forest. He wouldn’t be here. He doesn’t love me.”
Stunned silence.
“I mean…” I sigh. “It’s not his job to love me. It’s nobody’s job. I know this. The problem is that I love him, and that’s not allowed. I mean—if Forest was super sick, I’d lose my mind. Like, I can’t even think about it. Not sure what I’d do. Not supposed to care like that. It’s against the rules. I cheat all the time, though. It’s not like you can tell. Hockey rules? Break ’em and the ref is on your ass. But sex rules are easier. I can love Forest without anyone calling the penalty. I mean—even when it hurts. It hurts a lot lately.”
Only silence from fake-Forest. It must not really be him, then. Phew. Because I’m probably not supposed to talk like that. I yawn.
“We’ll sleep now,” comes a whisper. “More drugs in four hours.”
