Page 37 of Cruising with You

It’ll have to do.

Once I’m finished, I toss the used towel beneath the sink and wash my hands with soap while popping my head out of the bathroom door to make sure Nora is still resting. As if she canfeel my gaze, she opens her heavy lids and looks over at me but doesn’t say a word.

“How’d you sleep?” My gritty voice breaks the silence while I dry my hands.

“Better, actually. Thank you.”

“I didn’t do much.”

“And I beg to differ. Did you clean?”

I shrug. “Not really. Just a little here and there.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes before burying her face in her hands.

Walking back to the bed, I sit on the side and push aside some of her hair in hopes of getting a better glimpse of her. “Why the hell are you sorry?”

She keeps her face buried as she answers, “Because I feel like I conned you into helping me or something. If I hadn’t given you that stupid pin, you wouldn’t feel obligated to be here.” I hear the sniffle before I see any evidence that she’s crying, but I know her well enough to put two and two together.

“Baaabe,” I drag out the word then pull her back into my chest. “Why are you crying?”

“I don’t know,” she cries with another sniffle.

Chuckling, I admit, “Want to know something funny?”

She nods against me, but I can still feel the moisture from her tears sinking into my T-shirt.

“I always hated criers.” I laugh a little harder. “I thought they were doing it just to get attention and shit.”

“I’m not––”

“I know. And that’s why it’s so funny.” Rubbing my hand against her threadbare T-shirt that swallows her whole, I continue. “You’re one of the most genuine people I’ve ever met, and I kind of love that about you.”

She freezes when she recognizes the four-letter word, but what’s really weird is that I don’t rush to correct myself. Besides,I didn’t say I loved her. I said I loved something about her. There’s a difference. But even as I justify my comment, a tiny voice in the back of my head still argues,Yeah, but you’ve never said it in that context to a girl you barely know, either.

And I don’t regret it in the slightest.

“Well…,” she mutters, her voice trailing off. “I’m, uh…I’m glad that you can still find me appealing after seeing me like this.”

“Like what? Vulnerable? Sick? A hobo?”

Smacking me against my chest, she scowls up at me. “Hey! That’s not very nice!”

“I’m kidding. And I definitely still find you appealing. So much so, that if I weren’t afraid that you might be contagious, I might even prove it to you.”

“I’m sure you’d love that,” she teases. “Always a sucker for brownie batter, right, Gage?”

I know she’s joking, but it doesn’t take away the sting of truth.

“Who doesn’t love brownie batter,” I mutter sarcastically.

Sensing my deflated attitude, she adds, “Exactly. I know what the deal is. I know what I agreed to, so don’t worry about me catching feelings or anything.”

That’s the problem, though, isn’t it? I think I’m starting to.

I shift on the mattress to get a little more comfortable but don’t respond.

“I don’t think it’s the flu,” she mentions as the silence grows more uncomfortable around us. “I’m feeling a lot better after finally getting some sleep, and I think I got all the bad brownie out of me last night. I’ll probably be right as rain after a shower.”

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