Page 82 of Playing with Fire

I swear I can detect the faintest hint of pink appearing on his face when I look. His entire day in the sun prevents me from worrying about it.

But he could be

No. He's not. My thoughts of hope turned out to be incorrect.

He exits the kitchen without saying anything as I carefully descend from the counter and make my way back to the living room while dragging my feet.

Sabrina and Neha arrived to check on me after waiting for two hours. I sit curled up like a fetus while two blankets cover me. Nothing has ever made me feel this bad before.

This hangover is awful.

When someone refers to food from the other living room, I immediately find myself standing up. I go over to investigate but I find myself without the desire to eat anything. A delivery came from a local pizzeria, so I took a plain pizza slice to sit on the couch edge.

After staring at it for sixty seconds I took two tiny bites before my stomach forcefully told me not to continue. I put the food back down and closed my eyes when the screen lit up with a film.

A person sits next to me, but I refuse to look at them. The voice reveals the individual's identity to me. My brain tells me to refuse him, yet my body shows acceptance of his presence. My exhausted brain combined with my frail body leaves me feeling helpless.

I have no idea what actions to take or emotions to experience. My brain lacks the strength to instruct me on how to experience emotions.

I lift my blanket over my shoulders and then rest my head on him. I don't give any thought to his response, yet I believe this action is justified.

For four hours he slept on me the other day so now I should at least get something for that.

And it looks like he knows that. He shifts, but he doesn't move me. My body tenses when his hand pushes against the couch before sliding behind my back. His hand reaches my hip before pulling me closer to him. I enjoy his closeness and that I desire it excessively. I know from my body's response that this situation is negative.

Within just seven days I've realized that maintaining physical proximity to him deeply disturbs me. Occasionally I lack control over what harms me. I need to find a way to control this situation.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

JAMIE calls out from behind us that we need to turn right up this way before biking down to reach our destination.

I applied pressure to the pedals and made the turn to enter a busier street. Hazel ran behind Emerson who passed me at a fast pace because she felt better today than yesterday.

While remaining in the bike lane I looked at my phone to see what time it was. Tomorrow morning, we need to wake up early because tonight marks our final day in this location.

We ended our bike ride at a gelato shop we noticed earlier during our town walk. We secure our bicycles before breaking into the shop while laughter makes half of us struggle to breathe.

JAMIE failed to notice that Camden had come to a halt which led to him crashing into him. The argument that was pursued was hilarious. The line moved forward as people placed their orders with Em and I stationed right at the end. She placed her order first when we reached the front and then I quickly gave mine.

"Together?" The cashier asked.

"No." she shook her head.

"Yes." I interrupted her conversation and handed a twenty-dollar note to the cashier. She gave me a sharp gaze, but my infamous smile met her eyes which led her to roll them back in response.

"What a gentleman." she sneers.

You owe me some gratitude for this situation. I give a dismissive shrug before I take my change and toss the additional coins into the tip jar.

My gratitude would depend on my feelings toward you and the notion that tipping women goes beyond basic courtesy. She smiled, stating her case. The free dessert was your real contribution to the evening, Rowan.

"I acknowledge you at least," I informed her while leading the way.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." she scoffed, sliding into the booth.

The other person found a seat next to us while I moved beside her to her dismay. Is Rhodes asking us to practice on Friday? I ask.

"Unfortunately," Felix groaned, scooting closer to Hazel. We need to practice from four to six because he somehow predicts our return time.

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