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I knock. “Anthony? Are you okay?”
A faint rustle on the other side, and then his voice. It’s hoarse. “Yes!”
“Are you hungry?”
“No,” he says. There’s a long pause. “Coffee might help.”
“I can get you coffee.”
“Okay.”
I make a cup in record time and return to his bedroom door. “Can I come in?”
It takes him longer than it should to answer. “Yeah.”
I push open the door just as he props himself up in bed. The drapes are half-drawn and the sunlight that filters in sends uneven patterns across his king-size bed.
“Summer?” he asks. He’s shirtless, dark hair dusting across his chest. The sheet pools around his waist.
“Yes, it’s me. I’ve got your coffee. Here. Be careful, it’s hot.”
“Mmm.” He closes his eyes as soon as he has the cup in hand and leans against the headrest. Raises it to his lips and takes a sip.
“Are you okay?”
He lowers the cup with a sigh. “Yes. It’ll pass.”
“What is it?”
“Migraine.”
“Oh.” I take the cup from him and put it on his bedside table, beside an ebook reader and a pair of glasses. I’d never seen him wear them. “Do you want me to pull the drapes?”
“No. Thanks.” He sinks back down on the pillow, eyes closed. The lines of his face are drawn.
My mother used to have migraines. Not this bad, perhaps, but I remember what she used to do.
“I’ll be right back,” I say.
Anthony doesn’t reply.
But when I return and place a cold towel across his brow, he lets out a low groan. “Is that nice?”
“It’s very cold,” he breathes. “Christ, I think I can taste blood.”
Shit. I sit down beside him on the bed and he cracks open one eye. “Summer?”
“I’m here. Do you get them often?”
“Sometimes.”
Had he been lying like this all night? A quick glance across the bed confirms what I already know. There’s more than enough space.
“You don’t have to stay.” Anthony presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, teeth gritting together. “Shit.”
I climb onto the bed beside him, sitting cross-legged. Grab one of his spare pillows and put it in my lap. “I can rub your temples, if you think it’ll help?”
He peels his hands away from his eyes, but doesn’t open them. “Fuck, Summer, you should be lying on the beach or something.”
