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My blood boils beneath my skin. I’m in no shape to go anywhere, but every word out of his mouth just rubs me all the wrong way. Worse than my sandpaper eyelids. Before I can reply, they turn and head out.
“You should totally have her blow you with her eyes like that,” Vince states before they’ve even disappeared from the room.
“No way, bro.”
“Dude, it’d be freaky, though.”
“What if it’s contagious?”
“What, like some zombie disease?”
They both laugh as the door opens and closes.
I turn back toward the mirror, my bottom lip wobbling. If my eyes didn’t still burn so much, I’m sure the water works would have already started.
If this was the first time my eyes had changed like this, I might agree with them. But it’s not. Don knows this. Still, I let him talk me into a week-long trip in the Caribbean with his buddies from school and their girlfriends. Still, I agreed to spend the day on the beach, because that’s what normal people do. That’s all he wanted to do.And I wanted to be the perfect girlfriend for him, just like he expects.
My bottom lip trembles again, my dry eyes blinking back nonexistent tears. Heading out of the bathroom, I curl up in the bed I never got to use last night and hug one of the fluffy, white pillows.
“Yo, Asra,” Don callsout, “you up for dinner?”
Groaning, I pull the pillow off of my head and pry my eyes open. It’s dark inside the hotel room, thankfully. And judging by the lack of light creeping through the cracks in the curtains, dark outside, too.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I drag myself to a sitting position. My head protests. Pain radiates from my stomach.
“Yeah, no. Sorry, I-I think I need more rest.”
“For real?” He flicks the lights on.
I flinch, trying to cover my face as pain pierces my eyes, like being stabbed with an ice pick.
“You’ve been sleeping all day. You need to get up and spend time with me.”
“Sleeping?” My hand falls to my side as I pry myself off the bed and stand to face him. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve thrown up?” With my leaden feet, I force a step toward him. “I’ve gotten maybe,” I glance at the clock, “maybe two hours of rest. But most of the time, I’ve been puking my guts up, or hugging a pillow trying not to scream because it feels like my insides are being ripped out through my bellybutton with a giant, dull spoon.” He takes a step back, holding his hands up, but I can’t stop. Not when I’ve said this much. “Do I look like I’m all better? Do I look like I’ve rested all day?”
I cross my arms over my chest as he takes another step back and appraises me. His eyes flare from sympathetic to that look when I try to get him to eat broccoli.
“You look like shit, Asra. Why don’t you take a shower, get fixed up, come out to eat with me, then you can sleep the rest of the night?”
“Seriously,” I shake my head, biting my lip so it doesn’t tremble, “I don’t want to go anywhere.”
“Come on, you’re making me look bad. I’ve been the only one without a date all day.”
“It’s just one meal.”
“Exactly. Can you just try to act normal for one meal? Go to dinner with me like a normal girlfriend would? Not be the freak that refuses to do anything fun.”
A tear slips from the corner of my eye. “So now I’m a freak?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Yes it is. This morning I just looked freaky, but now apparently I’m a full-blown freak.”
“Look,” he runs his hands through his hair, “you weren’t supposed to hear that. Can we just go?”
I take a deep breath, folding my arms tighter. “No.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t believe this. After everything I’ve done for you.”
