Page 37 of The Pretender

At least we’re in agreement.

“What’s wrong with you anyway?” I’m at his bathroom door with my hand on the knob.

“Go away! It’s your fault.”

What? “How is this my fault?” I inhale, not waiting for him to answer and open the door. If he’s naked, he’s naked. We all have to have scars. Seeing Sebastian naked will just have to be mine.

“No!” His raspy voice stops me. There, on the bathroom tile, is a man who looks a lot like my asshole neighbor, but instead of a smug grin and tanned skin, he lays on the floor, sweaty and pale, with a grimace and a pair of boxers that cling to his ass like a second skin.

“Oh my gosh!” I rush to his side and drop to my knees, putting my hand to his forehead.

“Go away,” he moans, trying to swat my hand away.

I roll my eyes and ignore his pitiful attempts to stop me. “You aren’t running a fever.”

He tries to push up from the floor but stops when he realizes he can’t lift his own body weight.

“Tell me what’s going on,” I try again.

His head rolls to the side, and his red-tinged eyes stare up at me hatefully. “What’s going on is that you had Juan poison my food.”

I burst out laughing. “No, I didn’t.” This man is delirious. Funny, but delirious.

“You did.” His eyes are hard. He really thinks I tried to poison him.

“Sebastian, I ate the same thing you did. You grabbed both plates, remember? You probably tried to poison me and switched our plates by accident.” Honestly, that sounds like something Bash-hole would do. He has the attention span of a gnat.

He groans and rolls away from me. “Just let me die in peace.”

I smother a laugh. “Since when have I ever let you do anything in peace?”

Please. He should know better.

He shivers, and his words come out broken. “Come on, Vee. Show a little mercy.”

What does he think I’m going to do to him? Force him up and make him recite the alphabet backwards?

“I am showing you mercy, dick. Come on, sit up.” Gah, here I am thinking I'm going to come over here and catch the douche in bed with another woman and end up helping the ass.

“Have you been able to keep anything down?” I pull him into a sitting position.

His head falls back onto my shoulder. “Nothing.”

Eww. That’s not good. I remember one time when I had this virus, I ended up having to suck on ice chips just to get something into my stomach.

“You think you can shower?”

His chest rises with a sarcastic scoff. “Yeah, sure. I just slept in the bathroom all night because it was comfortable.”

At least his sarcasm is still strong.

“You never know with you,” I say, untangling myself from behind him, and stand. I reach for his hands. “Will you puke on me if I help you up?”

He gives me a flat look. “I haven’t thrown up since around three this morning.”

Good to know. “Come on.” I shake my hands and after staring at them angrily, he finally takes them and lets me pull him up. It’s not easy. I almost fall backwards, but I don’t.

“Brace yourself against the cabinets,” I tell him, before turning to the tub and seeing my chair. “What’s the combination?”

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