awkward.
I touch my palm to her forehead and she’s burning. “You need a doctor.”
She nods, but it’s barely perceptible with her entire body shaking. She looks small and miserable.
She says she’ll get to the car on her own, but after she slips twice on the steps, I practically carry her most of the way. She’s shivering so hard, I’m afraid she’ll slip out of my hands.
There’s a line at the doctor’s. Chloe sits on the only available chair. She seems out of it. Her head keeps leaning onto my side as I stand next to her. But every time, she jerks away and tries to sit up.
“Relax,” I say quietly and pat her head awkwardly when she leans onto me again. There’s really no point in feeling awkward when she’s only half alive. She seems to get the message and stays put.
An hour into the wait, I get her a bottle of water. It’s cold from the vending machine, so I hold it in my hands to warm it up a bit. Freezing water can’t be good for her sore throat, I figure.
She rasps a quiet thanks.
“I think the fever’s … better. I’m not so … cold anymore,” she says after a long sip.
“It just means it’s stable, it’s not going up anymore. But that’s only because it’s super high already.”
She looks at me as if she’s alarmed by my words. I’ve only told her the truth. I’ve had sore throats plenty of times. I got them by being careless on the slopes, not putting my jacket on after a run. I’ve gotten an earful about it from my coach more than once.
“You’ll get something for the fever. You’ll be fine in a day or two.”
It’s finally her turn to go in. Thankfully, her visit with the doctor takes a fraction of the waiting time. She’s got a strep throat and a prescription for antibiotics.
She waits in the car when I go get her the pills from the pharmacist’s.
When I’m helping her up the stairs back home, she keeps thanking me. I think it’s the fever muddling her brain.
She gets under the blanket on the couch, shivering again. It’s painful to watch her like this. I keep expecting to hear her bones rattling, so violent is her trembling.
I run to get her a glass of water for the pills. While she drinks down the medicine, I make her some tea. It’s not just that she likes tea, the doctor apparently told her to keep hydrated and drink a lot of tea. So that’s what I’ll give her for a week if I have to. I really don’t want to watch her like this.
Chapter Fifteen
CHLOE
Thank god for antibiotics. With their help, my temperature is almost back to normal after two days.
The visit to the doctor’s was torture. I was only half present. The bodily half. But Chris was there to help and hold on to me in case I wobbled and dropped to my knees. I catch myself thinking what a shame that my body was so numb from the fever. I barely felt his arm around my waist, or his palm checking my forehead. What a waste of perfectly nice, warm touches and caresses. I sigh.
“You okay?”
“As okay as I can be, feeling like a river of lava.”
He chuckles, and I even manage to smile.
“That ’s what I admire about you most—you’re positive in the face of suffering and pain,” he teases.
“Most?”
“Huh?”
“Does that mean … there are other things you admire about … me?” I have to pause every few words in order to swallow and alleviate the pain in my throat. I know I should shut up and let it heal, but I need his soft, low voice to lull me into relief. I need his green eyes to smile at me and speed up the effect of antibiotics. I’m aware thi s is contrary to what I wanted two days ago, but I can’t help myself. I’m in love with this perfect boy and I’m too sick and weak to fight it.
“Are there any things I don’t?” He grins and comes closer. He makes some space on the couch and sits down. The thought of how close he is only makes my temperature rise. This fever is doing strange things to my mind.
He’s been taking care of me for the past
I touch my palm to her forehead and she’s burning. “You need a doctor.”
She nods, but it’s barely perceptible with her entire body shaking. She looks small and miserable.
She says she’ll get to the car on her own, but after she slips twice on the steps, I practically carry her most of the way. She’s shivering so hard, I’m afraid she’ll slip out of my hands.
There’s a line at the doctor’s. Chloe sits on the only available chair. She seems out of it. Her head keeps leaning onto my side as I stand next to her. But every time, she jerks away and tries to sit up.
“Relax,” I say quietly and pat her head awkwardly when she leans onto me again. There’s really no point in feeling awkward when she’s only half alive. She seems to get the message and stays put.
An hour into the wait, I get her a bottle of water. It’s cold from the vending machine, so I hold it in my hands to warm it up a bit. Freezing water can’t be good for her sore throat, I figure.
She rasps a quiet thanks.
“I think the fever’s … better. I’m not so … cold anymore,” she says after a long sip.
“It just means it’s stable, it’s not going up anymore. But that’s only because it’s super high already.”
She looks at me as if she’s alarmed by my words. I’ve only told her the truth. I’ve had sore throats plenty of times. I got them by being careless on the slopes, not putting my jacket on after a run. I’ve gotten an earful about it from my coach more than once.
“You’ll get something for the fever. You’ll be fine in a day or two.”
It’s finally her turn to go in. Thankfully, her visit with the doctor takes a fraction of the waiting time. She’s got a strep throat and a prescription for antibiotics.
She waits in the car when I go get her the pills from the pharmacist’s.
When I’m helping her up the stairs back home, she keeps thanking me. I think it’s the fever muddling her brain.
She gets under the blanket on the couch, shivering again. It’s painful to watch her like this. I keep expecting to hear her bones rattling, so violent is her trembling.
I run to get her a glass of water for the pills. While she drinks down the medicine, I make her some tea. It’s not just that she likes tea, the doctor apparently told her to keep hydrated and drink a lot of tea. So that’s what I’ll give her for a week if I have to. I really don’t want to watch her like this.
Chapter Fifteen
CHLOE
Thank god for antibiotics. With their help, my temperature is almost back to normal after two days.
The visit to the doctor’s was torture. I was only half present. The bodily half. But Chris was there to help and hold on to me in case I wobbled and dropped to my knees. I catch myself thinking what a shame that my body was so numb from the fever. I barely felt his arm around my waist, or his palm checking my forehead. What a waste of perfectly nice, warm touches and caresses. I sigh.
“You okay?”
“As okay as I can be, feeling like a river of lava.”
He chuckles, and I even manage to smile.
“That ’s what I admire about you most—you’re positive in the face of suffering and pain,” he teases.
“Most?”
“Huh?”
“Does that mean … there are other things you admire about … me?” I have to pause every few words in order to swallow and alleviate the pain in my throat. I know I should shut up and let it heal, but I need his soft, low voice to lull me into relief. I need his green eyes to smile at me and speed up the effect of antibiotics. I’m aware thi s is contrary to what I wanted two days ago, but I can’t help myself. I’m in love with this perfect boy and I’m too sick and weak to fight it.
“Are there any things I don’t?” He grins and comes closer. He makes some space on the couch and sits down. The thought of how close he is only makes my temperature rise. This fever is doing strange things to my mind.
He’s been taking care of me for the past
Similar Books
