Page 55 of Over the Moon

“It’s 8:30, and I was just leaving your parents’ house. Your mom packaged up some food for you, and I said I’d drop it off on my way home.” She tucked her long brown hair behind her ear and avoided my gaze.

“My house is not on your way home,” I said, feeling horrible but also happy to see her standing at my front door.

“Well, it is if you go the long way.” She chuckled as she moved past me with the bag in her hand.

“You might not want to come in here. I’ve finally stopped puking, but I have a low-grade fever.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said, as she set the bag on the counter and turned to look at me. “I never get sick. I have the strongest immune system one can have.”

Now it was my turn to laugh. “All right, if you say so.”

“Good. So how are you feeling?”

“Like shit.”

She moved toward me, pushing up on her tiptoes, and placed the back of her hand on my forehead. “I don’t think that’s a low-grade fever. You’re burning up.”

“So, you are a doctor?” I smirked.

“Have you taken anything for your fever?”

“Nah. I just woke up right before you showed up. I’m actually feeling a lot better,” I said.

Maybe that’s because you’re here.

She reached for my hand and guided me to the couch. “Lie down. Where’s your medicine cabinet?”

I sat down, leaning forward to rub my head. “It’s in my bathroom.”

She disappeared down the hall and returned with ibuprofen and a glass of water. She also had a thermometer in her hand, and she ran her fingers through my hair, turning my head to the side, before pressing it into my ear. The little beep came, and she handed me the ibuprofen and the glass of water. “You’ve got a hundred and one-degree fever. You need to be taking both ibuprofen and Tylenol until this fever breaks. Lie down.”

I did what she asked after I set the glass on the table. She found the blanket at the other end of the couch and draped it over me as she dropped to sit on the floor next to me.

“I’d call you bossy, but I’m too tired to argue with you.”

She chuckled. “Good. Have you eaten anything?”

“No. I just stopped puking a few hours ago, and then I fell asleep.”

“All right. Let’s try to get some food in you,” she said.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll rally for practice tomorrow.”

Her eyes widened. “You will not be working out tomorrow. I’m not here to help you in hopes that you can get in a workout. I’m not a tyrant.”

“I don’t ever miss workouts.”

“Well, you’re missing tomorrow, because I won’t train you,” she said, before pushing to stand and walking toward the kitchen.

I didn’t argue.

I just lay there, listening to her move around my kitchen.

She returned with some toast and some cut-up banana. “Let’s try this. Take a few bites, and we’ll see how you feel.”

I sat forward and reached for the plate as she took a seat beside me on the couch. I ate a few bites and groaned because it was damn good. “I’m starving, so that’s a good sign.”

“Yeah, but you want to take it slow.”

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