Page 25 of Pucking the Enemy

“I’m sure he could, but you’ve got other things to be focusing on.”

Seb pouted as we approached the English building. “No fun!”

“Here’s my stop,” I said, pausing at the door.

Seb returned my bag with a sad face. My vision blurred as I tried to focus on him. His face went from pouting to concerned in a split second as I swayed on the spot.

“Hazelnut?” He reached out with a frown, steadying me. I wanted to answer, but nausea welled up, and I knew for a fact that, if I opened my mouth, I was going to hurl. “You really don’t look good. Are you sure you’re okay for class?”

Shaking my head, I took several deep breaths before trying to speak. “I can’t miss this class—but I will book an appointment with the doctor once I’m done, okay?”

“Do you want me to take you to the doc?”

I shook my head again. “I’ll just go to the student clinic. They can prescribe me something for the nausea.” My family doctor was an hour drive away, and that was the last thing I felt up to. If I went for an appointment there, it was guaranteed my mother would call me the next day, demanding to know what was wrong with me. The family doctors weren’t exactly big on privacy, not when my parents paid their exorbitant fees.

“Make sure you do, Hazelnut. You’ve been out of sorts for a while.”

Class was miserable. The entire time the professor droned on, all I could focus on was how crappy I felt. My head ached, and my stomach flip-flopped. Homework was assigned, but I had no idea what it was. My focus was completely shot.

Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I gathered my books. I needed to go to the campus doctor immediately. If they could give me some anti-nausea medication, my situation would improve dramatically.

Luckily, the clinic was only a few buildings over, a five-minute walk. I took my time, since my feet were heavy, like they were weighed down.

After what felt like an eternity, I was walking through the doors of the clinic.

“Hello there, honey!” the sweet, elderly receptionist greeted me. “Do you have an appointment?”

I shook my head. “I don’t. I’ve been feeling really sick for a few days and I thought I should come in,” I admitted weakly.

The receptionist’s brow furrowed as she took me in. “You really do look under the weather. Come take a seat, and I’ll get you in to see the doctor as soon as possible.” She moved from behind her desk and ushered me to a seat nearby, which I sank into gratefully.

My head was fuzzy, and my mouth felt like I had shoved it full of cotton. Combined with the constant churning of my stomach, I had definitely had better days.

The sweet receptionist must have told the staff I was urgent, because I was being summoned into the exam room only a few moments later.

The doctor was young—he probably wasn’t even a full doctor yet. With short brown hair and puppy dog eyes, he couldn’t have been older than twenty-two.

“Hello! What brings you in today?” he asked softly.

“I’ve not been feeling very well. It’s like I’ve had the flu for weeks now,” I told him.

“Okay, let’s get you checked out, then. Take a seat.”

I did as I was told as he placed a blood pressure cuff on me and took my temperature.

“You don’t have a fever, which I would expect with the flu. You do seem a little pale and clammy, though.” He frowned. “How do you feel about a blood test? We have a great little lab here and can get basic results in under an hour.” He beamed at me.

While some might have found his perky bedside manner endearing, when I felt like ass, it was only irritating.

“Do it.” I nodded.

He made quick work of taking my blood sample, passed me a water, and instructed me to sit in the waiting room until the blood test results came back.

Nursing my drink, I took a seat, pulling out my phone and texting Seb.

Hazel:

At the clinic now

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