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I turn the faucet off and slowly straighten myself. Seth’s hands are on me, holding me steady. My stomach lurches at the smell of his deodorant and I stumble toward the toilet, opening my mouth for another wretch, but nothing escapes.
“Are you okay?”
I groan and push my hair away from my face, feeling sweat slicking my brow. “I will be,” I gasp.
”Is there anything I can do?”
I wrinkle my nose, my senses suffocated by the scent of him. “Can you take a shower?”
“Huh?” Seth steps back, his expression wounded, as if I slapped him.
“I don’t know why, but your deodorant is really making me sick.”
“My deodorant?” He sniffs both armpits before giving me the most appalled look I’ve ever seen. “Are you sure it’s that?”
I shrug. “Or the wings from last night.”
“No, it can’t be that. Me and the bros ate the same thing and we feel fine.”
Then what the hell can it possibly be?
“Just, take a shower, for me,” I say as sweetly as possible. I smile up at him, but it must look like a grimace, because Seth appears even more concerned. “I want you looking nice at the market.”
“Okay, but you better take it easy,” Seth says while stepping out of my way. I dash toward the door, needing to be as far away from that smell as possible. “At least let us do all the heavy lifting.”
“That won’t be needed!” I call while slamming the door shut.
I gasp and lean against the door, faintly hearing the shower being turned on. Three pairs of eyes turn to me, all worried. Lucas leans against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed, his mouth set in a firm line. Hunter hovers by the door, his head tilted, his blonde hair tied in a man bun. Alex sits on the couch, his brows furrowed, his big blue eyes reminding me of a puppy dog having lost its way.
“I’m fine,” I say, sounding exasperated, but even as the words leave me I feel a wavy of dizziness take over.
Lucas is the first to get to me, his hands circling my waist and pulling me close. My knees wobble while my feet try to regain their footing. “I’m fine,” I say again, weaker this time. Hell, I don’t even believe me, why should they?
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Lucas asks while Alex and Hunter step forward. “You’re obviously not feeling well.”
“Yes, there’s no way out of it,” I groan while pushing him away, taking in deep breaths while I shake the dizziness from me. “I already paid for the stall. Just get me a chair and prop me up somewhere shady.”
Lucas exchanges glances with Hunter and Alex.
“I really think you should stay home,” Hunter finally says after a very long moment of silence. “It’s just money.”
“It’s not about the money,” I groan, “it’s about me finally doing something with my art. I’m graduating next year and I have no clue what I’m going to do with my life.”
“But there will be more chances,” says Alex, ever the optimist. “This isn’t the only market.”
“Yeah, I’m sure there’s something for winter,” says Hunter while nodding.
“No,” I say, sliding between them and stalking toward my room, where all my paintings and photographs are waiting. “It has to be today. Now, either help me, or stay out of my way.”
I hear them sigh behind me as I enter my room, finding it in a complete mess with paintings propped against the wall. Paints stain my desk, still wet from the past week of me working. Maybe my illness can be blamed on lack of sleep, or from inhaling too many paint fumes. It should clear up with the fresh air. Light streams into the room, making my photographs glimmer within their frames. Footsteps sound behind me and I find Hunter leading the charge, looking defeated.
“Alright,” he grumbles, “how can we help, Rachel?”
I set my hands on my hips, ignoring another lurch inside me, bile threatening to claw up my throat. Dizziness seizes me again, but I ignore it as I force a smile and say, “Help me take these to the car?”
***
We arrive about an hour and a half earlier than the event start time, and I already feel like I am running late. People are running back and forth, carrying boxes back and forth. I already see several stands are completely set up. Many are selling jewelry and clothes, while others, like myself, are selling art.
