Page 30 of I Wanna Dance

“Yeah,” he muttered, clearing his throat. “I texted you.”

Guilt pricked at me, and I folded my arms over my chest, though I couldn’t quite muster the anger I’d felt a moment ago. “I thought…I thought you were skipping class and me like a...pendejo!”

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “You drove all the way here to call me apendejoin person?”

“Yes!” I shot back, but the fire in my voice was mostly gone.

Marco chuckled, but it quickly turned into another coughing fit. He winced, pressing a hand to his chest. “Would it be okay for me to lie back down?”

“Oh, God.” I immediately went to him and led him to his couch, where I saw he’d made a nest for himself with tissues and remote controls.

“You know, you’re sexy when you’re pissed with me.”

I sighed, shaking my head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re here.” His grin was weak but still charming.

I rolled my eyes. “Do you even have anything for this? Medicine, tea, soup?”

“Somewhere.”

“So, you were planning to just cough yourself to death alone?”

“Yep,” he admitted, slouching on the couch.

“Lie down, Marco. I’ll see what you’ve got in the kitchen.”

“Bossy,” he teased, but he did as I said.

He lay back with a groan, and I pulled a blanket over him. Placing my hand gently on his forehead, I could feel the heat radiating off him—he definitely had a fever. Yeah, I felt like an idiot for storming in here, guns blazing.

I rummaged through his cabinets, quickly finding some herbal tea and a half-empty jar of honey.

As the water boiled, I grabbed a mug and called out, “You don’t have anything better than chamomile?”

“It’s not a five-star kitchen, Leah,” he rasped back.

I rolled my eyes again, but a small smile crept onto my lips. I found some ibuprofen and once the tea was ready, I set it all on a tray. I brought it to him and put it on the coffee table.

“Here.” I watched as he leaned forward to take the mug. “Sip it slowly.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His voice was tinged with amusement.

“Now, have some ibuprofen.” I handed him pills, which he dutifully took.

I sank onto the couch beside him by his feet, crossing my legs and leaning back. For a moment, neither of us said anything.

“You didn’t have to come.” Marco stretched on the couch, and I put his feet on my lap, making sure the blanket covered him.

“I didn’t know you were sick,” I replied, meeting his gaze. “I thought you were avoiding me.”

He frowned, his expression earnest.

“I thought you fucked me and then…you know?”

“I’d never do that,cariño.”

How to tell him trust was hard? Almost impossible. I felt like a fool but a happy one. He hadn’t gotten to know me to decide I wasn’t worth the effort.

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