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It takes some careful juggling to retrieve my phone. The anticipation crackling under my skin requires zero encouragement. Several notifications appear on the screen. None are from the one I want but can’t have. That doesn’t discourage me from typing out a message.
Me: Hey, Peachy Bottom Grace.
I immediately groan at myself. The emoji was over the top. Too late. Might as well make my craving for contact known.
Me: Joy said you’re sick. Need a pick-me-up?
When she doesn’t immediately respond, I take the initiative and snap a duo selfie of us. She won’t be able to resist replying. Belle is grinning in the shot, which I’m choosing to believe is her approval of my plan and not a warning that she’s about to fire one out.
Me: *image attached*
A weight is lifted off my chest and I sag into the cushions. A calm soon floods over the rest of me. “There. Now we can relax.”
In my fever-induced daze, I barely register the unmistakable jingle of keys from somewhere nearby. That alerts me to the deadbolt flipping to unlock. A creak from that squeaky floorboard in the foyer suggests someone just entered my apartment. Denial cinches on tighter than this insufferable illness. There’s a good chance this is a dream and I’m just hallucinating, too desperate for human contact.
As if mocking my loneliness, the front door clicks shut to slam a lid on any traces of doubt. This is real. A vise clamps around my windpipe. I couldn’t call for help if I wanted. Icy threads lash along my spine as footsteps approach from the main living area. I attempt to sit up, but immediately collapse into my sweaty sheets.
“Grace?”
Comfort swells through my sore muscles. Even with panic crawling over my logic, I recognize Garrett’s voice. “In here.”
His unexpected—although welcome—presence brightens my doorway a moment later. A grin that’s warm and gooey and rivals a tropical vacation is aimed at my rumpled form. “You’re okay.”
My swollen eyes sting at the relief in his voice. “For the most part.”
He strides toward my bed in a hurry. “I was beginning to take it personally that I hadn’t heard from you.”
“Wasn’t by choice,” I croak.
“That silence was deafening, but now I see why you were avoiding me.” Garrett’s eyes trace over every part of me that isn’t burrowed under layers. “You sound miserable.”
“Look it too.” I pat the nest that my hair has become over this past week.
“Didn’t say that.”
“Don’t have to. I can feel the grime and crust on my skin.” A shudder racks my weary limbs at the thought.
His unwavering focus doesn’t miss my reaction. “Need a hand getting to the shower? Or maybe a bath would be better.”
My lump of tangles catch on the pillow when I manage to shake my head. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m conserving my energy.”
“All right, we’ll stay put.” He parks his ass on the edge of my bed.
My stuffy nose wrinkles, knowing full well my blankets smell worse than a boys’ locker room before they discover the miracle of deodorant. Although, he’s probably used to the stench as a former athlete. That doesn’t mean I want to repel him with my odor.
“I’m probably contagious. You should stay away.” The fresh beads of perspiration dotting my forehead reveal I’m still feverish.
“Your germs don’t scare me, soulmate.” That statement offers too big of a dangling carrot to ignore.
“What does?”
“Believing you came to your senses and found a better friend than me.” The hurt in his voice would wobble my knees if I had the strength to stand.
“Unfortunately, I’m just sick.” A cramp chooses that instant to seize my stomach and I wince. “For the record, I’m not the type to cut and run. I’d at least flip you the bird first.”
“Glad to hear you didn’t ditch me.”
“Not yet,” I wheeze. “But the breaking and entering is a tad concerning. How’d you get in?”
