Page 16

Olga

Iwas dying. There was no other explanation for how bad I felt. I was dimly aware of Michael coming in to ask me about work, then making me sit up to take some Tylenol and drink a glass of water. After that I fell into a fitful sleep, full of fever dreams. The next time Michael came into my room I was shivering so hard my teeth were chattering.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice soft and kind. “You’ve been sleeping for a while.”

“Can’t. Warm. Up.” I moaned.

“Let me get you another blanket,” he said. “Where do you keep them?”

“Closet.” I was shaking so bad I could hardly talk.

Michael returned with a blanket, pulling it over the blanket and comforter I already had on top of me. I registered the weight of it, but it didn’t seem to add any warmth.

“How about I make you some hot tea?” he suggested. “That might help.”

“Okay.”

I didn’t really want tea, but I could tell Michael wanted to be helpful. I must have fallen asleep because when I opened my eyes again, there was a cup of tea on the table and a warm body behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see Michael spooning me, his large body wrapped around mine, one thick arm banded across my waist.

“What are you doing?” I croaked, noticing that he was sleeping on top of the blankets.

“You asked me to hold you to help you warm up,” he reminded me, his voice sounding kind of weird.

As soon as he said it, I remembered. My head was on his biceps and my ass was nestled against his hips. I hoped I hadn’t said anything else embarrassing in my fevered state, like the fact that I regularly fantasized about having sex with him.

“You’re going to get sick too,” I said, trying to pull away from him, even though it was the last thing I wanted to do.

His arm tightened, keeping my body pressed against his. I didn’t hate it.

“Don’t worry about me, baby. Just feel better.”

I glowed under the affectionate name that I was pretty sure he didn’t mean to say. It made me wonder if Michael was feeling even a little bit of the attraction for me that I was feeling for him.

Not right now of course. I was too miserable to think about anything other than how miserable I felt. But the longer I lived here, the more obsessed with him I seemed to become.

Every time we were close, it was all I could do to resist grabbing his head and bringing him in close for a kiss. Sometimes I caught myself staring at him like the lovesick schoolgirl I was so many years ago. We were friends, and roommates. I knew it was wrong, but I was having feelings for him that were decidedly not friendly.

Maybe I was just suggestible or something. My parents and sister teasing me about us being in love must be messing with my head. I was sure Michael didn’t see me like that. Pretty sure, anyway.

Then again, a few nights ago when I was in the kitchen with him treating his scratched ankle, there was a moment where I was on my knees next to him and he gave me a look that made me think he was going to kiss me. Then he’d pushed to his feet and practically ran out of the kitchen, leaving me feeling both confused and horny.

“Thanks for warming me up,” I said, grateful that the shivering had stopped and I was feeling the tiniest bit better. “I really need to pee. And brush my teeth.”

“Are you up to eating some soup?” he asked. “You haven’t eaten all day.”

“What time is it?” I frowned.

“A little after nine p.m.”

A glance towards the window confirmed that it was nighttime. How was it that I’d slept all day, and I still was feeling pretty terrible? I wasn’t particularly hungry, truth be told, but Michael was right, I should eat at least a little something.

“Yeah, soup would be good,” I agreed. “If it’s no trouble.”

“It’s no trouble. Do you want me to bring it in here, or would you like to go out and eat it on the couch?”

“Couch,” I said quickly.

Sick or not, if I spent too much more time snuggled in bed next to Michael I was going to grab him and kiss him or start wiggling my ass against the hard length of him I felt against my ass.