What if she spikes a fever in the middle of the night and doesn’t wake up to take the pills? What if she needs more water but is too weak to get out of bed? Or worse... what if she gets out of bed and collapses halfway to the kitchen?
I won’t hear that if I’m in here.
I fling my legs over the edge of the bed, cross the hall, and walk back into her room. The mattress dips under my weight as I sneak in beside Thalia, replacing the pillow she’s cuddling with my body. She stirs again, still asleep when her fingers spread on my chest and her face buries in the crook of my neck.
Nothing has ever felt this fucking good.
She stays in the same position throughout the night. On the other hand, I wake up too often, pressing my lips to her temple every time to check her temperature. Around four in the morning, she’s way too hot again.
“Thalia,” I whisper, grazing my knuckles across her cheek. “Thalia, wake up.” I brush the damp hair away from her face and flick the nightlamp.
She shudders, swallows hard as if her throat hurts, and opens her eyes slowly, squinting against the brightness of the room. “What’s wrong? What are you doing here?”
“Obviously, I’m taking advantage of the situation.” I help her to a seating position. “What do you think I’m doing? I’m looking after you. You’re burning up again.”
She rubs the sleep away, touching her forehead, brown eyes searching my face, frowning still as if her processing speed didn’t wake up with her. “What time is it?”
“Just past four in the morning.” I watch her wash two Tylenol pills down with water and set the glass aside. “Where the hell did you catch a cold in summer?”
She inches closer, draping one hand over my stomach as I pull her to me, already addicted to feeling her this close. “I don’t know, maybe the storm this morning. Some golfers don’t mind playing in the rain,” she whispers, nuzzling her nose into my neck. “You smell so nice,” she breathes, half asleep already.
“You always say that.”
“Because you do... so nice.”
I stamp a kiss on her head. “Sleep,omorfiá.”
FOURTEEN
Theo
THALIA'S NOT IN BED when I wake up in the morning. There’s no clock in her bedroom, but judging by the sun’s position in the sky, my alarm has been going off behind the wall for quite some time.
Although, I didn’t plug the phone to charge last night, so it probably died long before seven.
I drag myself out of bed, expecting to find Thalia in the kitchen with a cup of coffee or maybe taking a shower, but as I step out of her bedroom, I’m hit by the silence of the condo. No sign of Thalia in the kitchen, bathroom, or the terrace.
Pissed off, I enter my bedroom, plug in the phone and wait for it to power on. It’s eight thirty-two. I ignore the influx of notifications and dial Thalia’s number. It rings once, twice, and a few more times before I let out a litany of swear words when a text comes through.
Thalia: Can’t talk until break time.
Me: Why the fuck are you at work?!
Thalia: I’m better.
Four hours ago, she was hotter than hell, and now she’s all good? No way.
Me: I’ll pick you up in ten minutes. You’re going to bed.
Thalia: I can’t just leave. I promise I’m fine. I’ve got Tylenol in my locker just in case.
I’m swearing again. In my head, that is. I’m swearing, the words so creative that if my thoughts were broadcast over the radio, you’d hear one long beep.
Me: Call me when you’re on your break, and call me if you start feeling worse. I’ll cuff you to bed when you come back.
Thalia: Promises, promises.
She’s got me there.