He turned around and darted out of the laundry room.
All the heat in my body was replaced with a cold, icy sensation that filled my veins and doused all the hope I’d been feeling a minute ago.
I wasn’t sure how long I stood there, listening to the droning hum of the washing machine and letting it lull me into a fog-ridden space as I stared at nothing. When it beeped loudly to signal the cycle was completed, I finally pulled myself together. I put Reese’s blanket in the dryer, then sat down and hung my head in my hands.
13
DID I LOCK THE DOOR?
REESE
He’d infected my goddamn mind.
My mind, which felt like a foggy, jumbled mess.
God, what was Idoing? Seriously, what the fuck was I doing? Just grabbing Dakota’s dick because he was begging me to kiss him.
But the raw need in his voice, the way he’d looked at me, the intensity and the longing…
I wasn’t sure which one of us was more desperate and unhinged. It felt like me, at this point.
I’d wanted to do that. I’d wanted to kiss him so fucking badly, but instead I’d just rubbed him through his pants like a fiend. I was just as desperate as he was, and every word from his lips echoed in my head, taunting me and tempting me.
I wasn’t in my right mind and my body really wasn’t doing any better.
Maybe I could blame it all on whatever sickness was ailing me, because I was pretty sure I’d come down with something.
I stumbled through the door to our room and braced myself on my dresser, trying to catch my breath.
Was I really sick, though? I didn’t have a cough, I wasn’t congested. Just felt feverish and achy and weak. Like I could crawl under the covers and sleep for days.
Weeks.
Forever.
Yeah, that was a good idea. I’d go to sleep and wake up with a clearer head. Dakota had said I was sleepwalking again, so that must mean I wasn’t getting the right kind of rest, which was probably why I felt like this.
I wasn’t sick, just tired. Sleep would help.
But it felt like I was moving underwater, and pulling open a drawer was way harder than it should’ve been. I grabbed some sleep clothes and walked on unsteady legs to the bathroom.
Fuck, why was I sweating so much? Did Dakota turn the heat up? No, we weren’t able to control the temperature in the building. This was all me.
I shoved the door closed behind me, then threw the clean clothes on the counter, braced my hands on the cool granite and blinked at my reflection.
Wow. No wonder Dakota asked if I was feeling okay.
I lookedawful. My eyes were red, my face was red, and my hair was plastered to my sweaty forehead. Maybe I really was sick. I turned on the cold water and splashed it on my face, rubbing it over the back of my neck and in my hair.
That felt a little better, but leaning over like this was starting to make me dizzy and feel off-balance.
I sat down on the closed lid of the toilet and peeled my pants off. A wave of nausea rolled through me, and I pressed my trembling hand to my mouth, breathing deeply through my nose.
My head lolled to the side, and I jerked it upright, blinking fast.
“Get it together,” I muttered, smacking my cheeks a few times.
My eyes slid shut as I panted heavily. I slapped my palm into the wall to stop myself from falling over, then leaned my head and shoulder against the cool tile. It felt good against my cheek, and I let my heavy lids slide closed.
