“Well, you look like shit,” I say.
Beck blinks rapidly, looking startled as hell to see me. “What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice rough.
“Move,” I tell him, not unkindly but with the tone that always makes him straighten up without thinking.
His eyes widen and he steps back almost on instinct. It’s different from his usual reaction, but then I realize by the way he’s looking over my shoulders that he doesn’t want anyone in the hall hearing me. Even sick and miserable, he doesn't want anyone picking up on what we are. Or whatever this is.
I don’t like that.
The second I’m inside, I set the bags down on the small kitchenette counter and begin unpacking them like I own the place.
“What are you doing?” he asks again.
“I came to be your sexy nurse,” I say, setting out the meds and unboxing the humidifier. “Duh.”
“I’m fine,” he lies, swaying slightly as he follows me to the only bedroom door that’s open. I can tell it’s his before I even step in. It smells like him. Well, him plus body sweat. “You don’t need to?—”
“Sit,” I interrupt, using the same voice as before.
He sits.
He scowls angrily, but sits and watches me move around his room, clearing off his nightstand to plug in the humidifier. I point at him to tell him to stay before walking back to the kitchenette to grab more items.
I don’t bother with bowls, just open the soup container and hand him a spoon. He takes it reluctantly, but the moment he tastes the broth, his shoulders drop just a little. The pharmacy clerk told me that this deli’s hot and sour soup could cure just about anything. I suppose we’ll see.
“Have you taken anything?”
“I don’t need?—”
“Shut up and answer the question.”
He shakes his head, and I grab some of the nighttime cold tablets. It’s early evening, but I know from experience that this stuff works great and will help him sleep off the worst of his aches and pains. Beck swallows them with some of the sports drink I got, and settles back, apparently done with eating for now.
I see his laptop on his desk, so I pick it up and search for a streaming app, then climb onto the bed next to him once he’s propped up against the wall. He’s acting annoyed, like he doesn’t want me to be here. But I know it’s really because he doesn’t want me to see him sick and vulnerable and wearing wrinkled pajamas. He doesn’t push me away, though. He doesn’t have the energy to.
At some point, his head tilts and lands against my shoulder. He mumbles something incoherent about the episode ofTed Lassowe’re watching. I pretend I don’t notice how close he is or how much warmth rolls off his skin. That could just be the fever.
He shifts slightly, looking at me with eyes that are clearer but softer too.
“You didn’t have to come,” he murmurs.
“Yeah,” I say quietly, brushing my fingers through his hair. “I did.”
He stares at me like he’s unsure what to think about that. Then he leans forward, and before I can think or second-guess, his lipspress against mine in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s not heated, or desperate, or even all that sexy.
It’s slow. Warm. Almost unbearably gentle.
It tastes like cherry cough drops and exhaustion and involuntary trust.
When he falls asleep half on top of me, hand fisted against my side as if to stop me from going anywhere, I pull the blanket over both of us and let him rest.
I don’t fall asleep until much later, but when I do, it’s with my arm curled around him and the quiet realization that I’m screwed.
Without really realizing it, I kind of fell in deep, and I’m falling deeper by the second.
I wake up to sunlight hitting my face and the sound of Beck shifting beside me, his forehead pressed against my collarbone, his breath warm and a little congested against my skin. For a moment, I just lie there, letting myself enjoy the weight of him draped half across my torso. It feels illicit and domestic at the same time. Like something I was never supposed to experience.
Eventually, I maneuver him off me and slip out of bed. I use the restroom and start some hot water brewing in the tiny coffee maker. I have some tea back in my room that I’ll bring back with some clothes and toiletries. I’ve decided I’m staying, whether he likes it or not.
