twenty-four hours like a trained nurse. He guesses at my every need even before I do. My tea mug is constantly full of freshly made tea with honey. He’s been heaping blankets on top of one another when ever I shiver, and putting them away as my temperature comes down. He’s watched hours of stupid TV programs with me to keep me company. He massaged my feet, for chrissakes.
“ Are you sure you don’t want me to call your mom?” he asks for the third time.
“No. I’ll be fine by tomorrow. She doesn’t need to know.”
“Anything else I can do for you?” He looks at me as if he means that quite literally. There are plenty of things I want to ask of him, but none are very proper or even fair. So I just ask for a nother mug of tea and a thermometer to check my temperature.
His phone rings when he hands me the mug. He picks up, and from his answers I gather it is work.
“I’ve got a n extra delivery to make,” he says, and my mood sours.
“Do you have to?” I know I sound whiny, but I have a right to . I’m sick.
“I’m afraid so. I’ll be back in an hour tops. Do you need me to get you anything else before I go?”
“No, I’ll be fine. Bored as hell … but fine.”
“You can watch movies on my laptop ,” he says, and gestures to where his laptop is lying on the table.
I’m tempted. Peeking into his laptop would be like peeking into his soul, he spends so much of his free time on it. I have to remind myself that that is not who I am. I’m appalled at this person that’s suddenly taken my place. I don’t know her. She’s feverish and kooky.
Chris picks up his car keys and cell phone. At the door he hesitates and looks back at me. “Call me if you need anything.”
“Thanks.” This feeling of being taken care of is strange and unfamiliar. It scares me and reminds me once again why I shouldn’t get involved with him. But there are also other feelings, warmer and softer and consuming, that eat away at my resolve. God, how I want him to stay and cuddle with me under the blanket…
But he turns and leaves , and the door closes, and I fall back onto the pillows, deserted.
Chapter Sixteen
CHRIS
What does she want from me? Two days ago she pushed me away when I kissed her and told me that I’m her roommate and nothing more. Now she’s staring at me with those longing eyes. What’s with the mindfuck? Is that the fever scrambling her brain? It pisses me off that I don’t know where I’m at with her. I’m a simple guy, I like a simple life. I hate mixed messages and complications. I didn’t think she was one to play hard to get. But maybe that’s not it at all and I’m just misreading her signals.
When I stop at the bakery to pick up the pastries to deliver, Sal asks what’s wrong.
“You look worried,” he says with a smirk. He thinks I lead a charmed life––that my worries are insignificant, just something my mind makes up so I’m not bored. He always says that when I complain or worry about something.
“It’s nothing.” I’m not in the mood to share, but the past year he’s always been there for me in his strange, foul-mouthed way. He’s almost like family, and after this summer I’ll probably never see him again. I’ll miss him, his grumpiness and all.
“Chloe’s sick,” I say.
The smirk vanishes and his face goes dark. He reaches in the cupboard beneath the counter and pulls out a bag filled with pastries.
“Tell her this is from old Sal. She needs to get better ASAP, to make my boy here smile again.”
He slaps my shoulder , and I nearly buckle under the weight of his bear paw.
“Take a day off if she needs you,” he calls after me when I’m getting into my car.
Like I said, almost family.
It takes me half an hour to find the address for the delivery , but by the time I’m driving home I’ve already forgiven Chloe’s messing with my head and I just want to see her.
It’s hot as hell, and spending time in a bakery certainly
“ Are you sure you don’t want me to call your mom?” he asks for the third time.
“No. I’ll be fine by tomorrow. She doesn’t need to know.”
“Anything else I can do for you?” He looks at me as if he means that quite literally. There are plenty of things I want to ask of him, but none are very proper or even fair. So I just ask for a nother mug of tea and a thermometer to check my temperature.
His phone rings when he hands me the mug. He picks up, and from his answers I gather it is work.
“I’ve got a n extra delivery to make,” he says, and my mood sours.
“Do you have to?” I know I sound whiny, but I have a right to . I’m sick.
“I’m afraid so. I’ll be back in an hour tops. Do you need me to get you anything else before I go?”
“No, I’ll be fine. Bored as hell … but fine.”
“You can watch movies on my laptop ,” he says, and gestures to where his laptop is lying on the table.
I’m tempted. Peeking into his laptop would be like peeking into his soul, he spends so much of his free time on it. I have to remind myself that that is not who I am. I’m appalled at this person that’s suddenly taken my place. I don’t know her. She’s feverish and kooky.
Chris picks up his car keys and cell phone. At the door he hesitates and looks back at me. “Call me if you need anything.”
“Thanks.” This feeling of being taken care of is strange and unfamiliar. It scares me and reminds me once again why I shouldn’t get involved with him. But there are also other feelings, warmer and softer and consuming, that eat away at my resolve. God, how I want him to stay and cuddle with me under the blanket…
But he turns and leaves , and the door closes, and I fall back onto the pillows, deserted.
Chapter Sixteen
CHRIS
What does she want from me? Two days ago she pushed me away when I kissed her and told me that I’m her roommate and nothing more. Now she’s staring at me with those longing eyes. What’s with the mindfuck? Is that the fever scrambling her brain? It pisses me off that I don’t know where I’m at with her. I’m a simple guy, I like a simple life. I hate mixed messages and complications. I didn’t think she was one to play hard to get. But maybe that’s not it at all and I’m just misreading her signals.
When I stop at the bakery to pick up the pastries to deliver, Sal asks what’s wrong.
“You look worried,” he says with a smirk. He thinks I lead a charmed life––that my worries are insignificant, just something my mind makes up so I’m not bored. He always says that when I complain or worry about something.
“It’s nothing.” I’m not in the mood to share, but the past year he’s always been there for me in his strange, foul-mouthed way. He’s almost like family, and after this summer I’ll probably never see him again. I’ll miss him, his grumpiness and all.
“Chloe’s sick,” I say.
The smirk vanishes and his face goes dark. He reaches in the cupboard beneath the counter and pulls out a bag filled with pastries.
“Tell her this is from old Sal. She needs to get better ASAP, to make my boy here smile again.”
He slaps my shoulder , and I nearly buckle under the weight of his bear paw.
“Take a day off if she needs you,” he calls after me when I’m getting into my car.
Like I said, almost family.
It takes me half an hour to find the address for the delivery , but by the time I’m driving home I’ve already forgiven Chloe’s messing with my head and I just want to see her.
It’s hot as hell, and spending time in a bakery certainly
Similar Books
