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As promised, I spent the last few days sleeping, sipping hot tea, eating decent food, and taking my antibiotics religiously every four hours.
I took Reed’s advice and drank lots of fluids. I made myself a delicious fruit smoothie filled with all the good things he bought for me. Honey, milk, a banana, and a couple of decent swigs of cough medicine. It did the trick nicely. Because I haven’t coughed or felt faint in over twenty-four hours and for that small mercy, I couldn’t be more grateful. My ribs are still sore, and my chest is tender, but I’m doing much better.
Reed has been texting me non-stop, checking on me. He’s very sweet when he wants to be. He stopped by for a couple of hours last night, with more groceries, and more medicine, as well as a block of chocolate that was easily as big as my head. I could have kissed him.
But alas, I did not.
It’s scary as hell to acknowledge the feelings I’m having for him. But when I’m not thinking about him, I’m imagining different scenarios where we might end up together. As in,together.
Yeah, that kind of together.
We watched a movie while he was here. NotThe Fallthis time, but a cheesy rom-com about a guy and a girl who take a road trip together across the country despite having only just met, and I could tell Reed wasn’t paying a whole lot of attention.
I asked him what he was thinking about, but he just shook his head and gestured for me to keep watching the movie. I must have fallen asleep at some point, because when I woke up again I was no longer on the couch, but rather tucked up in my bed, and Reed was nowhere to be found. He must have carried me, because I don’t recall getting up and going to bed myself. The blankets were over me and I was toasty warm.
Yes. I was warm.
Hallelujah.
The heat was officially on. There was no mistaking it. My bedroom was no longer freezing cold, instead it was warm and soothing and very comfortable, and I get the feeling Reed’s littlechatwith Ray may have totally worked in my favor.
I haven’t seen or heard from Reed today other than a quick text message this morning asking if I was feeling better. He attached a selfie, a shot of him standing at a microphone with the rest of the band behind him, at what looked like a rehearsal studio.
I saved it to my photos, as well as made it his caller ID. I figured making him my screen saver was taking things a tad too far. Baby steps and all that.
Heading into the bathroom, I take a hot shower, wash my hair, shave under my arms, and brush my teeth. Because God knows, it’s been a good while since I’ve done any of those things.
After that, I spend the rest of the day catching up on all my social media accounts, as well as doing some laundry and tidying up, tossing dirty tissues in the trash, and disinfecting the entire apartment with wet wipes and disinfectant spray.
An hour later, my cell phone signals an incoming text message, and I answer it too quickly with a smile when I see Reed’s face pop up on the screen. Why am I smiling? What is he doing to me? He’s turning me into something I’m not. I’m not one of his groupies, nor am I one of his fuck-buddies.
So what are we?That’s the million-dollar question.
Reed: Still feeling alright?
Me: Yes. Thank you. You rehearsing?
Reed: Yeah.
Me: Have fun.
Reed: I’ll try.
There’s a pause, and three little dots dance across the screen like he’s typing something else. This goes on for a good minute or more, but then they disappear and I don’t hear anything more from Reed for the rest of the day.
My sister’s high-pitched voice makes me yank the phone back an inch from my ear. “Wait, what? You’re sick?”
“I’m fine. Or I will be, at least.”
“You’re still coming to the wedding, aren’t you?”
I sit up slowly in my bed, using my elbow to push myself up against my pillow. Sighing, I rub my fingers across my forehead. Her concern is sweet. It’s late and I’m tired now, and I really just want to crawl into bed and go back to sleep. “Yes, Mia, I’m coming to the wedding.”
“You sound like shit!”
“Look like it too.”
I hear her gasp loudly, for dramatic effect, no doubt. Seriously, you would think Ohio’s running out of air it’s so over the top. “What about the wedding photos? Makeup can only cover so much –”
