Page 40 of The Pretender

I send him a glare that has no bite behind it. “How sweet of you,” I lie.

He shrugs. “I try.”

I notice the popsicle stick in his hand. “You want another one?”

He grimaces. “No, thank you.”

“Are you still feeling nauseous?”

He wiggles his hand, the universal sign for “so-so.”

I take the stick from him and motion to the bed. “Why don’t you try sleeping some?”

He eyes the bed longingly and I know he wants to. “I’ll come back later and check on you.”

His cheek twitches. “Or you could stay and watch a movie in your chair?”

Ugh. The man makes a good point. “You don’t think I will stab you in your sleep?”

He grins. “Nah, you only strike when it’s dark.”

His grin falls in an instant, and I know he’s thinking about all those times I tried to prank him.

“I’ll just go,” I say. “You won’t rest with me here.”

Frankly, neither will I. I’ll probably stare at him the whole time instead of my movie.

“Go get your stupid chair. You know you aren’t leaving.” He lumbers over to the bed and climbs in. I watch as he burrows down in his sheets, his eyes closing instantly.

For a man who is a whiny bitch about his pillow, he sure forgets it a lot.

I walk out to the living room and grab his drink and pillow, taking them back to the bedroom. I set the Gatorade on the bedside table and he stirs.

“Do you want your pillow?”

He nods, and I slide it under his head. “Try drinking just a sip of this Gatorade,” I encourage, and when he doesn’t shut me down, I grab the cup and ease it to his lips, but he stops me. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

He falls back onto the pillow. “Don’t help me anymore. Don’t remind me…”

He doesn’t finish his statement. He doesn’t need to. I know exactly what he doesn’t want me to remind him of.

We’ve been in this situation before. Back when we were friends.

“Don’t start. I’m not letting this kill you before I can.” I know a little case of food poisoning won’t kill him, but I had to say something to steer the conversation back into new friend territory.

That makes him crack a smile. “I knew you cared.”

He’s had to know I’ve always cared. That was the reason I blew the prank in the first place.

“Here.” I push the glass into his hand and wrap his fingers around it. “You got it?”

He nods, the icy frost of his blue eyes watching me as I pull the blankets up to his chest before he stops me with his hand, his fingers stroking down my face. “How did I not know?” he mumbles to himself, while the back of his hand grazes my cheekbone, stopping just before my lips.

I swallow a couple times, but my voice doesn’t make a sound.

Sebastian Carrington has always been the biggest pain in my ass, but he’s the only one who’s ever really known me. He may hate me for what I did to him, but he has to know we have history that no one can ever erase. We have something few people ever get to experience. No amount of time, hate, or separation will ever change that.

---