Page 260 of Lilah
"No, we're not."
"Yes, we are," I assure him, "get dressed."
"I don't want to," he argues.
"I don't care, you're pitiful, you're going."
"I'm not pitiful," he disagrees.
"You look like you've been dragged behind a horse," I push his wild dark hair back and he closes his eyes briefly.
"I don't like going there," he grumbles.
"But you know it'll make you feel better so get up and put clothes on. I'll even drive, you can sleep in the car," I persuade him.
He stands slowly and I smile. I smile up until he mumbles something about throwing himself off a bridge but I choose to ignore the comment.
I follow him into the bedroom to monitor him. He doesn't evenlookat the closet as he lowers himself down onto the bed. I let out a groan.
"Grey, I'm going to tie a rope around your ankle and connect it to the back of my car and drag you to the doctor."
"I'm not going."
"You're not winning this."
"Yes, I am," he argues.
Jokes on him because the longer he's sick, the longer I don't want his lips on me.
"You're being ridiculous," I sit on the bed next to him.
"No."
"We can do anything you want after, but you need to go," I try and convince him. There's plenty of stuff to do after. We could go eat, we could go get him all the jerky he wants, anything.
"We can't do what I want," he flits his eyes up at me.
"Why?"
"I wanna fuck you but obviously you're not going to let that happen," he grumbles. Can he be any more of a hornish man?
"You're gosh darn right I'm not gonna let you do that to me. Now if you go to the doctor," I trail off.
"It would still be a no," I finish, "but you can get better quicker if you go to the doctor and then we can talk about it."
"I'm going to get better anyway, I'm not going," he rolls over, his back now facing me.
I think about kicking him in the back but I refrain. Brat.
I walk around to the other side of the bed. I run my hand down his arm and as his eyes clothes, I yank my arm down to the small amount of hair he has under his belly button and I pull it.
He lets out a groan, pulling my hand off.
"You have no consideration for me and how I feel," he turns his head and buries his face and the pillow.
"We'll watch the scariest movie ever when we get home if you'll go to the doctor," I continue trying to convince him and he only grunts.
I still don't understand why those types of movies are pretty much the only ones he actually likes. I find it weird that he doesn't even get scared.
