My Summer Roommate (12 page)

An hour into the wait, I get her a bottle of water. It’s cold from the vending machine, so I hold it in my hands to warm it up a bit. Freezing water can’t be good for her sore throat, I figure.

She rasps a quiet thanks.

“I think the fever’s … better. I’m not so … cold anymore,” she says after a long sip.

“It just means it’s stable, it’s not going up anymore. But that’s only because it’s super high already.”

She looks at me as if she’s alarmed by my words. I’ve only told her the truth. I’ve had sore throats plenty of times. I got them by being careless on the slopes, not putting my jacket on after a run. I’ve gotten an earful about it from my coach more than once.

“You’ll get
something for the fever. You’ll be fine in a day or two.”

It’s finally her turn to go in.
Thankfully, her visit with the doctor takes a fraction of the waiting time. She’s got a strep throat and a prescription for antibiotics.

She waits in the car when I go get her the pills from the pharmacist’s.

When I’m helping her up the stairs back home, she keeps thanking me. I think it’s the fever muddling her brain.

She gets under the blanket on the couch, shivering again. It’s painful to watch her like this. I keep expecting to hear her bones rattling, so violent is her trembling.

I run to get her a glass of water for the pills. While she drinks down the medicine, I make her some tea. It’s not just that she likes tea, the doctor apparently told her to keep hydrated and drink a lot of tea. So that’s what I’ll give her for a week if I have to. I really don’t want to watch her like this.

Chapter Fifteen

CHLOE

Thank god for antibiotics. With their help,
my temperature is almost back to normal after two days.

The visit to the doctor’s was torture. I was only half present. The bodily half. But Chris was there to help and hold on to me in case I wobbled and dropped to my knees. I catch myself thinking what a shame that my body was so numb from the fever. I barely felt his arm around my waist, or his palm checking my forehead. What a waste of perfectly nice, warm touches and caresses. I sigh.

“You okay?”

“As okay as I can be, feeling like a river of lava.”

He chuckles, and I even manage to smile.

“That
’s what I admire about you most—you’re positive in the face of suffering and pain,” he teases.

“Most?”

“Huh?”

“Does that mean … there are other things you admire about … me?” I have to pause every few words in order to swallow and alleviate the pain in my throat. I know I should shut up and let it heal, but I need his soft, low voice to lull me into relief. I need his green eyes to smile at me and speed up the effect of antibiotics. I’m aware thi
s is contrary to what I wanted two days ago, but I can’t help myself. I’m in love with this perfect boy and I’m too sick and weak to fight it.

“Are there any
things I don’t?” He grins and comes closer. He makes some space on the couch and sits down. The thought of how close he is only makes my temperature rise. This fever is doing strange things to my mind.

He’s been taking care of me for the past twenty-four hours like a trained nurse. He guesses at my every need even before I do. My tea mug is constantly full of freshly made tea with honey. He’s been heaping blankets on top of one another when
ever I shiver, and putting them away as my temperature comes down. He’s watched hours of stupid TV programs with me to keep me company. He massaged my feet, for chrissakes.

“
Are you sure you don’t want me to call your mom?” he asks for the third time.

“No. I’ll be fine
by tomorrow. She doesn’t need to know.”

“Anything else I can do for you?” He looks at me as if he means that quite literally. There are plenty of things I want to ask of him, but none are very proper or even fair. So I just ask for a
nother mug of tea and a thermometer to check my temperature.

His phone rings when he hands me the
mug. He picks up, and from his answers I gather it is work.

“I’ve got a
n extra delivery to make,” he says, and my mood sours.

“Do you have to?” I know I sound whiny, but I have a right to
. I’m sick.

“I’m afraid so. I’ll be back in an hour tops. Do you need me to get you anything else before I go?”

“No, I’ll be fine. Bored as hell … but fine.”

“You can watch movies on my laptop
,” he says, and gestures to where his laptop is lying on the table.

I’m tempted. Peeking into his laptop would be like peeking into his soul, he spends so much of his free time on it. I have to remind myself that that is not who I am. I’m appalled at this person that’s suddenly taken my place. I don’t know her. She’s feverish and
kooky.

Chris picks up his car keys and cell phone. At the door he hesitates and looks back at me. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Thanks.” This feeling of being taken care of is strange and unfamiliar. It scares me and reminds me once again why I shouldn’t get involved with him. But there are also other feelings, warmer and softer and consuming, that eat away at my resolve. God, how I want him to stay and cuddle with me under the blanket…

But he turns and leaves
, and the door closes, and I fall back onto the pillows, deserted.

Chapter
Sixteen

CHRIS

What does she want from me? Two days ago she pushed me away when I kissed her and told me that I’m her roommate and nothing more. Now she’s staring at me with those longing eyes. What’s with the mindfuck? Is that the fever scrambling her brain? It pisses me off that I don’t know where I’m at with her. I’m a simple guy, I like a simple life. I hate mixed messages and complications. I didn’t think she was one to play hard to get. But maybe that’s not it at all and I’m just misreading her signals.

When I stop at the bakery to pick up the pastries to deliver, Sal asks what’s wrong.

“You look worried,” he says with a smirk. He thinks I lead a charmed life––that my worries are insignificant, just something my mind makes up so I’m not bored. He always says that when I complain or worry about something.

“It’s nothing.” I’m not in the
mood to share, but the past year he’s always been there for me in his strange, foul-mouthed way. He’s almost like family, and after this summer I’ll probably never see him again. I’ll miss him, his grumpiness and all.

“Chloe’s sick,” I
say.

The smirk vanishes and his face goes dark. He reaches in the cupboard beneath the counter and pulls out a bag filled with pastries.

“Tell her this is from old Sal. She needs to get better ASAP, to make my boy here smile again.”

He slaps my shoulder
, and I nearly buckle under the weight of his bear paw.

“Take a day off if she needs you,” he calls after me when I’m getting into my car.

Like I said, almost family.

It takes me half an hour to find the address for the delivery
, but by the time I’m driving home I’ve already forgiven Chloe’s messing with my head and I just want to see her.

It’s hot as hell, and spending time in a bakery certainly doesn’t cool you down. As I run up the stai
rs, sweat starts dripping down my back.

Chloe is right where I left her, only she’s asleep. I worry that her condition has worsened, but when I close the
front door softly, she opens her eyes. She lifts herself on her elbows.

“Don’t get up,” I tell her,
dropping the bag with the pastries on the table and walking to the couch. “How are you?” I feel her forehead, but I’m so hot that I can’t really tell if she’s still feverish.

“Better,” she whispers.

A drop of sweat rolls down my nose and drops onto her hand.

“Sorry.”
I wipe my face in the hem of my t-shirt. It’ll probably gross her out, but what can I do.

She lies back and makes a strange moaning sound. Her throat must be killing her.

“The fever’s gone,” she says.

“That’s good. That’s really good.” I notice how flushed her cheeks are. She looks sweet and vulnerable
. Delicious. My eyes drop to her mouth and I catch myself wanting to kiss her again. Then I remember how that ended last time, and I hold back.

I have to get up before I do something stupid. “I have to take a shower.”

****

I leave the bathroom with apprehension. I’m not sure I can trust myself around Chloe while she is in her damsel-in-distress mode and all cute about it. I hope she’s at least regained her sense now that the fever is gone. At least one of us needs a cool head if we are going to keep up with this ‘only roommates’ plan.

Feeling so tense around her is strange
. I’m not used to it. It makes me jumpy, like my heart has gone into overdrive. I panic every time she speaks to me. The whole situation has become bizarre. When I offered her to crash at my place more than a month ago, this was not what I imagined. I was trying to help her out, and then I was trying to get her to like me. Now I am in a situation where I have to stop her from doing something stupid, something that she would later regret. Although I’d like nothing more than for her to do something stupid.

Like I said, bizarre.

When I enter the living room, she’s not there.

“Chloe?”

I look around and see the door to her bedroom open. I don’t dare go in there.

“I’m in here
, reading,” she calls back, and she sounds better. There’s no more of that rasping in her voice.

I’m actually relieved that she’s out of the room.

I take a croissant from the bag Sal gave me for Chloe (there’s plenty left in there for her) and make myself a cup of coffee. I haven’t had lunch today, but I don’t feel very hungry. I’m too nervous for that. Shit, it’s like I’m back on that slope up in Tahoe poised to do my first double cork. My stomach is in knots, and I think I’d feel more relaxed competing against Stale Sandbech at the Olympics. Which says something about the state Chloe’s gotten me into.

I try to distract myself by checking my mail (two shredding vids from my brother, and a message from Mike that I have to read three times to understand). I get my
earphones and watch some videos. Time is crawling by.

Despite the loud music, my mind keeps going back to the girl in the next room. I catch myself sighing loudly every two minutes. I’m desperate here, man. What do I do? I want her, and she says she doesn’t want me. But her behavior is confusing, so I’m not sure I should believe her. Is it worse that she’s lying about not wanting me
, or that she truly doesn’t want me? This is getting borderline insane.

I just wanted a fun last vacation before college. Now I’ve got a
huge mess instead.

I pull the
earphones out, tired of staring at the screen and not seeing anything. Even the music didn’t manage to calm me down. The situation is dire.

I hear Chloe move around her bedroom. She could’ve at least closed the doors to spare me. Now I just keep wondering what she’s doing in there. Chloe and a bed in the same context is not a good thing for a guy who’s
lusting after her. Badly.

Suddenly,
I hear her make a surprised sound and then a crash follows.

“You okay?” I
ditch the laptop and run to her room. I find her slumping on the edge of the bed, and the first thought that crosses my mind is ‘thank god, she’s dressed’.

She smiles confused at me, but her eyes are all crossed. “I’m dizzy,” she says like it’s funny.

I notice she toppled a glass to the floor where it shattered, the water seeping into the frayed rug.

“Did you cut yourself?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Lie back.” She tries to resist at first, but I push her shoulder until her head touches the pillow. “You’re weak. You shouldn’t be walking around just yet.”

“I’m fine. I just got up too quickly.” Despite her words, she’s breathing deeply and slowly, as if being careful not to faint again.

I clear up the mess of the spilt water and glass shards on the floor. All the while she’s lying there and watching me
––I can see it out of the corner of my eye. When I look at her, she smiles dreamily.

Is she playing with me? Is she doing this on purpose? Was I naïve for thinking she was honest and uncomplicated? My mind’s a mess, thanks to her.
I don’t know what to think anymore, but I know, right down to the last atom in my body, that I need to touch her, to feel her skin under my fingertips. I need to kiss that full mouth of hers to stop her from uttering any more baffling and distracting words. I plain need her.

I stifle
a groan as I get up from the floor and carry the shards to the trashcan in the kitchen. I swallow a large glass of frigid water, but that only chills my stomach, not my crazy, horny thoughts. I have to get away, but I know I can’t leave her alone. She’s not well yet, and she needs me. Or so I tell myself, just to have an excuse to return to her bedroom.