Page 35 of Cruising with You

Three-Two-Zero-Four.

After tapping my knuckles against the thick metal door, I wait.

And wait.

And wait.

No one answers, so I try again, then rock back on my heels.

Still, there’s only silence.

What if something’s wrong? What if something happened? Is she okay?The questions hit me from all sides as my anxiety peaks.

“Nora?” I call, my voice sounding gruff. Glancing over my shoulder, I confirm I’m not disturbing anyone in the hall. It’s empty. “Nora? It’s me. Gage. Are you okay in there?”

Another few seconds of silence tick by before the door creaks softly as it begins to open, and I release all the pent-up oxygen in my lungs.

She’s okay.

When it opens fully, I want to laugh.

Nora’s dark, wavy hair looks like a rat’s nest on the right side of her head, and her eyes are barely halfway open as she squints up at me.

“Gage?” she croaks. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard you were sick.”

Waving her finger through the air like a celebratory flag, she mutters, “Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner.”

As I witness how adorable she looks even when she’s obviously sicker than a dog, I bite back a chuckle before offering, “I brought you some breakfast. Maybe it’ll help settle your stomach?”

Her expression sours as she eyes the food warily.

“You don’t have to eat anything unless you’re feeling up to it. Would some Tylenol or something help? I can go check out the gift shops….” My voice trails off as an overwhelming sense of helplessness crashes into me.

She looks like shit. Adorable shit. But shit, nonetheless.

With her head resting against the doorjamb, she shrugs one of her shoulders. The movement causes her oversized, white T-shirt to slip and exposes a few inches of her freckled skin. It looks a little red from all the sunshine yesterday.

“I don’t think it’s the flu. I think I ate something that didn’t sit well.”

“What could you have eaten?”

She thinks for a second before rolling her eyes. “A freaking brownie.”

The irony isn’t lost on me, and her gaze narrows as she takes in my amused smirk.

“Not funny,” she bosses, daring me to argue with her.

“It’s a little funny.”

“No, it’s not.”

I can’t help but poke the bear one more time. “Kinda is. But you can argue with me later. Let’s get you back into bed, okay?”

Without waiting for her to invite me in, I guide her back into the closet-sized room, then help her slide between the sheets.

Once she’s comfortable, she studies me carefully. “What are you really doing here, Gage?”

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