Page 35 of Lift Me Up

Georgie nods. “She and I had a… fight, kind of. She felt I should go to the hospital, I felt I should not.”

I ignore the intense thump in my chest, that pang of worry, the sirens going off yelling take care of her, take care of her. I don’t want to push her to tell me. I want her to want to tell me.

I look up at the ceiling, and I can’t stop myself from grinning when I notice them, “Do my eyes deceive me, or do you have glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling?”

“Shut up.” Georgie whines, hiding her face.

“As much as I love our conversation in the dark, would it be okay to turn the light on?” I ask, “I want to see you.”

“Um—” There’s a break in her voice, a fight or flight response as she burrows deeper in the blankets to stave off a chill only she feels. “I guess?”

I do turn on the light, a metal base with a white lampshade that glows a faint amber yellow and lights the room enough that I can see Georgie in her blanket burrito, her flushed cheeks, and her dark circles under her eyes and… tear track marks that makes me feel sick.

Why is the sniffling from crying? Is she in pain? Is there anything I can do to help?

“Hi,” I say instead.

“Hi…” She says back, glancing away. “I’m going to have to raincheck my reward for winning the bet another time. If that’s okay.”

“Of course it is,” I reach under the blanket to find her hand. It’s fire to the touch. “Holy shit, Georgie.”

“I know. I know. Just… don’t say anything; I can handle this myself.”

But can she? Because she clearly isn’t okay right now. I stand, knees and back cracking as I do so and twist. I try to distract myself from wanting to climb into that bed with her, to hold her, to take care of her in the ways that comfort me when I’m sick. Touch has always been my love language, and I am starving for more. But right now, she needs me, and that trumps everything else at the moment. Whatever she needs, I’m here.

I look around her room, her simple furniture suits her all-natural wood and white accents. Her bed has no headboard, a loft style bed that you can put things under. I can see storage containers under there, which I can only assume are filled with yarn. She has a crafting corner where her started projects sit, and next to it is the bookshelf of spicy books. She watches me take everything in, slowly pulls herself out of the blanket cocoon and props herself up against her wall. The chill of the wall likely feels amazing against her brazen skin right now.

I pluck a book off the shelf without looking at the title, and I come back to my original place beside her bed. I settle myself on the fluffy white throw rug on her floor facing the window, my back against the side of her bed. I can feel her eyes on me, but I say nothing as asked, crack open the book and nearly snort when I read the first line to myself.

“What are you doing?” She asks calmly.

“Reading.” I murmur, glancing over my shoulder, resting my head back against the top of her mattress to meet her gaze. She holds the blanket up against her chest, trying to figure me out.

“Why?”

“You’re not feeling well, you need someone here to make sure you’re okay⁠—”

“I’m fine⁠—”

“—and that’s going to be me. I will sit, and I will read, and when you’re ready to tell me whatever it is, I’ll be here to listen. If you have a thermometer, I’d like to find it so I can see how bad that fever is, and I can make you food or get you ice cream if it helps. But I’m not going anywhere unless you want me to leave.”

She sighs, slips into a lay down position. “Fine. I have a thermometer that you can find later in the medicine cabinet.” Satisfied with her acceptance and the plan, I pretend to read the first page of the book I’m going into blind.

“Isn’t your book right there? Why read something different if you haven’t finished it?” Georgie notes and she’s not wrong, the book I brought back is right next to me. I set down the new spicy read and she laughs, “Also, that one is a mafia romance, 3rd book in the series too.”

“Oops.” I say innocently, picking up the already finished book our bet was based off. I flip to the last chapter, pretending that this is where I left off, and I settle into rereading it as if it’s my first time.

“Read to me?” Georgie asks as she settles in on her back, blankets tucked in around her again, staring at the ceiling.

So I do. I read to her out loud, about Dean and Erin realizing that their lives are better than ever when they’re together, about their friendship with a person ending because of the judgement the friend had about their relationship. In the end, it’s their happily ever after. When I finish, I sigh happily as I did the first time I finished it, grinning. I look back at Georgie who’s laying on her side facing me, smiling, watching me calmly.

“What did you think?”

“I want the second book.”

“It’s out on the other shelf. Go grab it and maybe a glass of water?”

“You got it. Anything else?” I ask as I stand from my spot on the floor.