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It’s nice to know I’m not in this alone.
* * *
After eating my half of the most delicious dessert I’ve ever had, we walk back to the car. The exercise will help my body use up some of this excess glucose, but I imagine I’m going to need more insulin soon. I enjoy watching the lake as the wind ripples across the surface of the water. Bright white sails stand out against the horizon. Tourist ships cruise along the shoreline, along with smaller speedboats and yachts.
When we reach the car and buckle in, I take the baseball cap off and drop it in my lap. I pull down the visor mirror to straighten my hair. “Thanks for the hat. It helped a lot.”
“Anytime, princess,” Jason says as he takes the cap from me and tosses it in the backseat.
I laugh. “I’m no princess.”
“You sure look like one,” he says as he starts the engine and backs out of our parking spot.
I try not to smile as we head home. I get compliments from guys all the time, but none of them ever made me feel the way this one did.
When we reach home, we walk in through the back door, into the kitchen. I grab a bottle of sparkling water from the fridge. Jason follows me up the stairs and down the hall to my room.
“So, what’s on the agenda for the afternoon?” he asks me at my bedroom door as I open my bottle of water.
“Homework.”
He pulls out his phone and checks my glucose monitor. “It’s still a little high, but that’s not surprising after what we ate. You need more insulin.”
I nod. “I’ll take care of it.”
He looks like he wants to say more, but instead he points to his room. “I’ll be right next door. Holler if you need me.”
“I will.” As he starts to walk away, I call him. “Jason.”
He turns back. “Yes?”
“Thanks for today. I had a wonderful time.”
He smiles. “My pleasure.” He stands there for a moment, looking as if he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. He nods toward his own door. “I’ll leave you alone so you can do your homework.”
I nod, hating to part from him. “Thanks. I guess I’ll see you at dinner then.”
He’s not your boyfriend.
I know that.
Then stop making a fool of yourself. He doesn’t even like you.
I let myself into my room and close the door behind me. I grab my anatomy textbook and study for an upcoming quiz. After I’m done with anatomy, I pick up my copy ofJane Eyreand curl up on the armchair in front of the hearth and open to the bookmarked spot. This must be where Jason left off reading last night. At least, I think it’s where he left off. I fell asleep, so I’m not quite sure where he stopped.
I turn back a few pages just to make sure I don’t miss anything. I’ve read this book a dozen times already, and I’ve watched all of the film versions, but this story never gets old. I’m a sucker for romance, and Mr. Rochester is a divine, dark romantic anti-hero. He harbors so much pain and suffering, and his longing for Jane is palpable.
After having such a big lunch, it’s not surprising my eyelids start to grow heavy, and I’m having trouble concentrating on what I’m reading. I lay my book down and close my eyes, just for a minute.
The sound of my glucose monitoring app alarm wakes me with a start as it warns me of a dangerous blood sugar low.Crap!I must have overestimated the amount of carbs in my lunch and my pod delivered too much insulin.
My head feels fuzzy, and my heart is racing. I try to stand, but I’m so dizzy I fall back onto my chair. I’m shaking and perspiring, my skin clammy. These are all symptoms I know well.
I keep a stash of apple juice boxes in my nightstand drawer for occasions like this, but my legs are so weak I don’t think I can walk that far.
My bedroom door crashes open, and Jason storms in, his expression tight. He received the alarm on his phone, as did my mom and brother.Great. Now I’ve worried everyone.
I point to my nightstand. “Juice box, top drawer.”
