“I don’t believe you. You’re sweating right now. Preston…what the fuck?” Jordan’s frown doubled in size.
“Just a little hot.” I pulled at the collar of my shirt, taking a deep breath and then proceeding to cough. My lungs burned, and my chest ached. “I should drink more water.”
“Are you sick?” Jordan asked, concern swirling in her eyes. “Are you not feeling well?”
“Oh, I’m fine.” I’d used my adrenaline for many other things, and I’d get through this. I refused to ruin her first date because my body was a little asshole and betraying me. “If you won the lottery today, what would you do?”
“Hey, honey,” she said, a new edge to her voice. “Your face is beet red, and you’re, like, gasping for air.”
“No. No, I’m okay.” I waved a hand in the air, the movement causing my head to ache even more. I closed my eyes, holding my breath for the wave to pass. “I’m the best. I’m with you.”
I heard her rustle, then felt her scoot next to me. She nudged my hip with hers, so we were that couple sitting on the same side of a booth. “What are you doing?”
“Taking care of you.” Her cool hand covered my forehead. “Preston, you are burning up. My hand is on fire.”
“You smell so good.” I inhaled, my nose brushing against her wrist as her spicy and delicious perfume filled my nose. “Damn woman, I want to lick you.”
“I like my men healthy, Charming. Not with a fever. We should get our food to go. I’ll flag our waiter.”
“No.” I forced my eyes open, grabbing her hand before she could raise it. “We’re on a date.”
“Sure, but you’re sick.” She smiled, a tender expression on her face. “We should get you back home and with some medicine.”
I shook my head, then winced. “This fucking sucks. I’ve… waited so long to do this. I can make it through.”
She brushed her fingers through my hair, her gaze assessing my face with an unreadable look. It could’ve been the sudden fever, but it seemed like she was scared. “I’m okay.”
Her hand rested against my cheek, her teeth coming down on her bottom lip.
“God, you’re sexy.”
She snorted. “We’re going home. Let me take care of you.”
“But this dress. The food. Our date.” I practically whined. I hated the needy sound of my voice right now, but it wasn’t fucking fair. This was my one chance. My opportunity to show her we were good together. “Jordan?—”
“Are you worried this is the only date we’ll go on?” she asked softly, understanding entering her eyes. “Is that why you’re refusing to leave?”
I swallowed the ball of emotion in my throat. I didn’t want to spook her. She was one comment away from bolting, but fuck. I rubbed my temples, the pain growing. I needed some Tylenol and to sleep, especially with the season. I couldn’t afford to get sick. My stomach rolled with worry, and Jordan studied my face. I couldn’t respond, and the silence went on too long before she clicked her tongue.
“I’ll get our food to go. You wait here.” She kissed my forehead before sliding out of the booth.
I rested my head in my hands, the body aches worsening the longer I sat here. The sounds of silverware were too loud, the smells of the kitchen wafting toward me and making me cringe. Overstimulated. Overheated.
“I’m with the woman of my dreams, and I’m sick,” I mumbled. “Un-fucking-believable.”
“Talking to yourself, Charming?” Jordan ran her hand over my shoulders. “They’re packing up our food in a bag, and I have an Uber on the way to pick us up. We’ll head back and put on comfy clothes. Already have someone delivering meds to the house.”
“I’m so sorry, Jordan.” Shame consumed me. “I wanted your first date to be memorable.”
“Oh, this is.” She laughed and kept drawing circles on my back. “I mean, what a story this is. The first date I ever go on, the guy gets sick before our food arrives. It’s pretty much the start of a standup routine.”
“Uhhhh, you’re not making me feel better.” I groaned into my hands, the throbbing in my head growing. “Can I make this up to you, please?”
“Let’s just get through tonight, Preston. You’re incredibly pale and hot right now.”
“Just what every man wants to hear.”
“Shut up. Let me take care of you.”
