I take the bottle and drink a few sips, each one scratching my throat.The Doctor watches me with concern, then gently takes the bottle from my hand and sets it back.
“It’s only the flu.”
“I know, but you’ve only got it because of me.”
“Ah, stop.It’s on me.If I hadn’t been such a dick…”
“True.”
“I didn’t mean to be.”
He nods but still won’t look at me.
“It just sort of happened.”
“Because you’re someone who takes and then legs it.”
“Actually, I thought I’d given something as well.”
“Do you think this is the time for that?”
“I’m not used to this.It’s new.I don’t know if I can do it.”
“I get that, but you could’ve told me.You could’ve explained why this is so out of the question for you.”
“You know my rules,” I say, sharper than I mean to.
“You never mentioned that one.”
“I thought it was implied.”
“Not for me.I’d rather be told.”
“So I’ll be clearer next time.”
“N-next time?”he stammers, searching my face.
“If you want to see me again.”
“I brought you back to my house.You’re in my bed, you’re stark naked, and…”
“What?”I instinctively lift the blanket.
“You were soaked, and I’ve nothing here that’d fit you.”
“Grand excuse.And you loved undressing me.”
“You’re an arsehole.”
“And I’m dying with the flu.You should pity me.”
The Doctor sighs heavily, then asks, “Should I tell someone?”
“Mmm?”
“Well, you’re sick, you’re in my house, maybe someone is looking for you and…”
Without thinking, I reach out and catch his hand.He glances down at our hands, holds it there for a moment, then looks back at my face.
