Page 29 of Alex
“Don’tbe stubborn. Cancer patients use it all the time. It might help,” I tell him,and he relents, taking a draw and trying to hold the smoke. He coughs the firstone out almost instantly, but the next few go down easier.
“Ihaven’t been stoned in years,” he says with a small grin, handing the jointback to me.
“That’sprobably enough then.” As tempting as it is, I don’t want to smoke. I need tobe able to think, to take care of him and drive him to the hospital ifnecessary. A few minutes pass, the longest amount of time he’s had withoutvomiting. “Feel any better?” I ask.
“Yeah,my stomach’s settling a little.”
“Trysome water. Just a sip.” Shaking hands take the glass, and I fetch him a cleanwet washcloth to wipe his face. He’s sitting on the couch when I return, theremote on his lap. “You look a little better.” He looks like shit. Pale asmilk, wet with sweat, and trembling.
“Worsethan any flu or hangover I’ve ever had,” he says, leaning back, exhausted. “Everymuscle in my body hurts.”
“Youstill have a few painkillers leftover from the surgery if you want to try tohold one down.”
“Itcan’t hurt.”
Thirtyminutes later, a giggle escapes me as I peek at him. Between the weed andpainkiller, he’s stoned off his ass. “Feeling better?”
“Mmm,”he murmurs, leaning against my side when I sit beside him.
“Doyou want to go bed or sleep here?”
“Goingto stay right here.” When I go to rise, he grabs my arm and pulls me back down.“I got through the day.”
Hishead rests on my shoulder. “You did. One thing at a time. Right now you shouldget some sleep while you can,” I advise.
“Thankyou.” His dark eyes look into mine. “I wouldn’t have made it through todaywithout you.”
Hiseyes close when I run a hand through his hair. “You’re welcome. You can be kindof sweet when you’re stoned.”
“Don’ttell anyone, asshole.”
“That’smore like it,” I laugh, and he smiles. “Get some sleep,” I tell him, and moveto the smaller sofa.
“Youdon’t have to sleep here. I’ll be okay.”
“Shutup.”
Snoringfills the room a few minutes later and I breathe a sigh of relief. That was somuch worse than I expected. At least we know the pot works if he gets worseagain. The nurse said the nausea can last a few days, the aches and pains alittle longer. She also advised me he’d be weak and tire easily for a fewweeks.
Myown exhaustion is setting in, so I stretch out on the sofa to try to sleep. Mygaze is drawn to him. Even sick, he’s too damn gorgeous. What I’d give to kissthose sculpted lips, and not just a peck like New Year’s Eve. Images of himwith my hand around his cock flash through my head and I try to blink them away.It’s not like me to get stuck on a straight guy, it’s pointless, that’s gay101, but I’ve seen how he looks at me lately. He’s grateful for my help, butit’s more than that.
Throughthis whole thing, he’s started reaching out to me more and more. Startedtreating me more like a partner than a friend. Maybe it is just because he’ssick and needs someone. If that’s the case, he’s got me. I’ll be here no matterwhat, but a small ember of hope sparks to life inside of me that maybe he feelsmore. Feels what I do.
Ian’sweak voice wakes me early. “Alex,” he rasps.
“Righthere, man. You going to be sick?”
“Tryingnot to be. Will you light that joint. If I move, I’m going to puke.”
Helies still as a stone while I light then hold the joint to his lips. This timehe has no problem holding the smoke. “Are you still hurting?”
“Likea motherfucker, but I can’t drink anything yet.”
“Okay.”I turn on the T.V. to distract him, and a few minutes later, he sighs.
“Gettingbetter.” His movements are slow and careful when he sits up and grabs theanti-nausea pills.
“Youlook like hell warmed over.”
