Page 58 of Shattered Rhythm

I take a quick glance at the whiteboard, where the teacher is going over material I’ve already covered, then reply.

Still in class, I’ll be out in 20 minutes or so.

Ryder: Texting in class? Have we lost you to the dark side, brother?

I hate him for being right. Before Liv, I would never have even considered looking at my phone during class.

Shut up, Ry. Liv, want to meet up later?

Liv: Sorry, guys, not today. See you all tomorrow, okay? XOXO

I furrow my brows. When we saw her on campus earlier, I noticed that Liv looked exhausted, so I decide to message her privately.

You okay, beautiful? You looked tired. Is there anything I can do for you?

Yes, I’m sorry. Just cramps. It’ll be better tomorrow. Don’t worry.

Since I’m not learning anything new today, I decide to spend the rest of the class doing some research.

* * *

Liv

I’m lying in the fetal position on my bed, cursing myself for being unprepared for a bad period. I didn’t pack any necessary items when I left Canada, thinking I could buy them here, but I never did. Tomorrow will be a lot better, but today sucks ass. Now, I’m lying in misery, debating whether to leave the apartment to get a hot water bottle or some Midol, when my phone chimes with a text from River.

Let me in?

I stare at my phone in confusion, until I hear a knock on the door. I look like crap, and I’m already in my PJ’s, which is just grannie panties and the oversized koi shirt.Fuck.

“Give me a second!” I shout, trying to fix my hair into a messy bun as I search franticly for the black sweatpants and hoodie I left on the floor yesterday.

Opening the door slightly, I find River standing outside with two shopping bags in his hands. He looks so hot in his dark jeans and gray Henley.

“Hey,” I whisper, surprised to see him.

He smiles at me. “Hey, beautiful. Can I come in? I got something for you.” I raise my eyebrows, and he steps inside.

“I’m sorry about the mess. I wasn’t expecting you and didn’t have the energy to clean up after myself,” I say, feeling embarrassed, but he chuckles.

“Don’t worry, you look beautiful as always, maybe just a little tired. And I came for you, not your room.” I look up at him, and he bops the top of my nose. “You’re not feeling well, and I wanted to take care of you.”

Why is he so perfect?

“Unfortunately, I haven’t had the chance to get to know you well enough to know what your poison is, so I just brought a bit of everything,” he says, pulling various items out of his shopping bags and laying them on my bed. “We have chocolate, milk and white, gummy bears, caramels, cookies and cream ice cream, and—not my favorite but I wanted to make sure—pickles.” I burst out laughing.

“You did not get me pickles. That’s for pregnant people!” I exclaim, but he just shrugs.

“The internet told me otherwise,” he replies, and I laugh again, feeling my heart swell.

He googled period cravings for me?

“Sit back and enjoy your treats while I make you a hot water bottle.”

I grab the ice cream, and he returns from the kitchenette, handing me a spoon.

“Good choice,” he says with a wink.

“And what else is in the bag?” I ask, settling back into my pillows.

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