“Jesus, Cameron, you’re burning up. The last time I saw you, you were fine.”
He looks over at me. “Last night, I felt a little tickle in my throat and a slight stuffy nose, then when I woke up, everything had gotten ten times worse. Pretty sure it’s a head cold since I got the flu shot.”
Professor Mills comes in and I lower my voice. “Did you take your temperature? You can still have a fever with a head cold.”
His eyebrows furrow. “Do I look like someone who owns a thermometer?”
I roll my eyes. “Humor me, Kahlo. Why aren’t you in bed?”
“The health center would refuse to give me a note excusing me from class over a cold. They’d hand me some Tylenol, Vitamin C and kick me out,” he sniffs.
Unfortunately, he’s right.
“How many more classes do you have today?” I whisper now that the lecture has started.
“Two with a break in between, but it’s close to finals and I don’t want to miss them,” he sniffs again.
With a reluctant sigh, I turn to the board and try to pay as much attention as I can to the lecture.
An hour and fifteen minutes of torture later, we’re packing our bags to leave.
“Here.” I hand over my scarf to Cameron. He looks at it with a straight face.
“No thank you?” He stuffs it to my chest.
Stubborn ass.
“You have a fever and you’re only wearing a jacket and hat while it’s well below zero outside.” I stuff my scarf back into his chest. “Take the damn scarf.”
“I would rather not dirty your scarf. Also, red really isn’t my color, washes me out.” He smiles sarcastically, but it’s ruined with a loud and what sounds to be, painful cough. He straightens and puts his bag on his shoulder preparing to walk away. I narrow my eyes, and quickly hop on top of a chair, and wrap the scarf around his throat to pull him back. He makes a small choking noise and instinctively leans backward.
“Come on, I did not pull it that hard.”
“What the fuck?” He faces me with wide eyes, which gives me the opportunity to finish adjusting the scarf on his neck.
We’re almost at eye level with the help of the chair. I pat his chest, and my hand lingers while our eyes meet. Even with him being as sick as he is, the underlying tension between us that’s always present, triples.
Then he coughs on my face.
The spit and movement causes my eyes and mouth to close before any can get in.
“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he says between more coughs.
I take a tissue from my jacket pocket and wipe my face. “I’ll be fine.”
It’s odd how I’ve had so many bodily fluids of his all over me and inside of me, but this still grosses me out.
“At least now you’ll be all warm for the walk to your dorm.”
He looks at me like I’m crazy. “I don’t know what the hell was in your coffee this morning but I am not—” A loud sneeze that he thankfully covers, unlike the cough, spills out.
“You need to rest, and I’m sure once your other professors see you this way, they won’t want you anywhere near them.” I step down and grab my bag. “Have you skipped any of these classes this semester?”
He side-eyes me while we make our way to the door. “Once at the beginning, when you punched me.”
I wince at his harsh tone and my cringe-worthy behavior. “Oops. Still friends, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, still friends.” A small smile forms before he concedes. “Fine. I’ll go talk to the first one in person and email the second.”
