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I wasn’t fine.
Damned hot dogs.
Most things made me sick to some degree, unless they were made with almost completely whole, natural foods. Spices didn’t upset my stomach—it was the processed shit that pissed my body off.
I should’ve realized the hot dogs were a bad idea, but the last few weeks of being able to eat everything without any consequences had spoiled me.
“Shit,” I mumbled, my palm landing on the side of the shower as I bent over further.
Throwing hot dogs into my empty stomach had been one of my worst decisions yet, and I had a habit of making terrible decisions.
Zed pulled the curtain to the side, peering down at me with narrowed eyes. “You don’t look fine.”
My stomach made an awful, churning noise.
Luckily, it usually decided to make me vomit whatever it didn’t like, rather than sending it out the other end.
“You’re going to want to leave,” I managed, starting to feel really damned sweaty.
Shampoo was dripping down my face, into my eyes, making them sting, but that was far from my main worry.
“Was it the food?” he glanced back at the hot dog wrappers on the counter.
“My stomach,” I mumbled, turning my forehead to rest against the shower.
Yep.
Wow.
Didn’t feel great.
Zed tugged the curtain further out of the way and stepped in behind me. “How long until you’re puking?”
“Not long.”
“Let’s get this shit out of your hair, then.” He tilted my head back a bit, and somehow managed to start rinsing bubbles from my hair.
Another moan escaped me when my belly made another awful noise.
“Those aren’t my favorite of your moans,” Zed remarked, his voice light.
“Don’t make me laugh,” I groaned at him.
“Sorry.” His hand ran over my shoulder smoothly, and the touch was calming. “Almost done. I’ll braid it for you, so it’s out of the way. Any idea what you might be able to eat around here?”
“Baked potatoes. Salads. Fruit. Vegetables. Water.”
“Got it.” His lips brushed the shoulder he hadn’t touched, and I felt his light tugging on my hair as he worked it into what would probably be a horribly-tangled braid.
I didn’t give a shit about the tangles, though.
“Hell,” I moaned, as my stomach rolled.
Zed grabbed me by the hips and swiftly lifted me out of the shower, setting me down on my knees in front of the toilet just in time.
