A singular curl falls across her face, tipped in my direction on the pillow. I push it off her face, dampened with sweat, capturing it on my pointer finger. Twirling it, the strand gently wraps around my finger, like she has me wrapped around hers. If only she would realize it. Sutton blinks, and I think for a millisecond that maybe she does. That the past few days have been a facade.
A beeping sound cuts through the space between us. I drop the curl. She presses up, moving into more of a sitting position.
We both reach for the thermometer. I refrain, letting her remove it and read her temp. Ninety-nine point eight. Right under the threshold.
“I think it’s food poisoning,” she says before I can ask. “Whatever I had in the dining hall last—two nights ago—must have been bad.”
I snort a laugh. “Which one did you go to?”
“Cub Club.”
“And you didn’t remember how sick we all got our first semester on campus from there?”
“Apparently not, because I had the Mexicali Caesar wrap, too.”
“Oh, Dave.” My joking tone cracks a smile on her turned down mouth. “There’s no thinking. You have food poisoning for sure.” She huffs. “When’s the last time you ate?”
“Some time yesterday, I guess. Maybe breakfast. Or lunch?” Sutton pauses. “Lunch, but I couldn’t keep it down. I haven’t been able to keep anything down in”—she counts on her fingers—“thirty hours. Probably more.”
At the same time, I joke, “Yeah, I can tell.”
Her brows perk up, then fall with realization. She sniffs her sweatshirt, then pulls a chunk of hair in front of her nose. Sutton covers her mouth, pretending, maybe not, to gag.
“I smell disgusting.” Her nose scrunches.
“I think there’s throw up stuck in your hair here.” I gesture to other side of her head. “Let me go start you a bath.”
“That’s unnecessary. I can do it.”
“I know, but I want to.” Energy levels aside, I know she can do it. There’s no doubt in her independence and ability to take care of herself. But I meant what I said, I want to.
“Cooper.” It’s a hesitant warning, a quiet plea not to push us. The box we’ve drawn around us is bending; we’re pushing at its seams.
I shake my head. I don’t care. “Please, Dave. Let me take care of you.”
“You just want to see me naked.”
“True.” My chest laughs. “But baby, I wouldn’t need a bath to get you naked. If I wanted you naked, I’d already have your clothes off.” I lean forward. “Trust me.” Holding her chin, tone softer, I repeat myself, “I want to take care of you. Puke and all.”
Sutton finally relentsafter three long exhales. I carry her to her bathroom, after she once again tries to walk and looks like she is in a game of pinball in her hallway.
She sits on the counter while I start the bath. I work in silence, the only sound coming from the water falling from the faucet. Dipping my hand in the water, I turn the handle to the left, cutting off the water.
Lukewarm, because anything else won’t help her fever.
I shut the door behind me. Not quick enough. Not slow enough either.
As soon as I tell her the bath is ready, she starts slipping off her sweatshirt. That’s when I bolt.
I wasn’t lying when I said this wasn’t a ploy to get her naked. Sure, yeah, I wasn’t going into tonight thinking I’d get to see the sporty bralette she was wearing. The way the spandex fabric stretches across her breasts, the dusty pink color light enough that you can see her brown nipples. Or how when she breathes, her abs go taut, freckles kissing her skin like I wish I could.
Tonight, I thought would be like all the others. We’d meet on whatever she had planned this week. Watch or listen to a podcast, head to the rink to skate, or find an alternative form of movement.
Maybe I’d convince her to eat dinner with me, or watch this new show streaming online that I found and thought she’d like.
We’d run through whatever theoretical questions she assumes Zach would ask her on a first date because I know she probably has flash cards or some study material for it. As much as I hate the looming date, I still want her happy and confident.
I was lying when I said if I wanted her naked, I’d have her naked. I think I’ve wanted her naked since I was fourteen and realized what sex was. In those seven years, this is the closest I’ve ever been.
