Page 55 of Strange Lad

Does he not realize what he just did? What he’sstill doing?“Yeah,” I croak. I sound like a dying frog.

“Did you take anything?” His hand slides down to rub my cheek, and then it dawns on him. His eyes round, and he drops to squat and grab his things. Clearing his throat, blushing, he stands again. “Sorry.”

“It’s…fine.” I eyeball him and cough into my elbow.

“Go lay down.”

I feel terrible, but underneath the misery is a big puddle of hot goo. Iknewhe loved me. A weak smile forms on my face as I return to the couch, which I have dubbed my station of death, and curl into a ball on the pull-out.

“Did you take medicine?” he calls from the kitchen, unloading his bags.

“No. It's being delivered.” I try to project my voice, but it cracks, making me sound like I’m eleven.

“You ordered cold medicine?”

“Yes,” I grumble and burrow deeper into my blanket. Another gross cough slips free.

I never did make it to the kitchen for my tea.

With a shaky hand, I grab my phone off the cushion beside me and check the order details. It says the meds will be here infifteen minutes. I click the power button and chuck the phone. The one person I want with me is in my kitchen, pulling out the stock pot my mom gave me when I first left home. It’s older than I am.

I doze on the pull-out until there’s a knock at my door. Oli goes and gets my delivery, then brings me a piping cup of tea, a glass of water, and my drugs. Wiggling over to the edge of the couch, I flip my legs over the side and shiver. God, I feel like death and decay. This might just be how I die, I’m sure of it. He watches me take my medicine, drink water, and then gingerly cup my mug.

“The soup is going to take a while,” he says, standing awkwardly. It’s almost as if he’s regretting hugging me. Or maybe he just now realized that he could get sick. “Do you want toast? Some crackers?”

“I have crackers?” I ask. Since fucking when?

“I bought some.”

“You need to be more careful with your money.” I blow on my hot tea, watching him. “I could have bought it.”

Oli makes minimum wage at his job, and the cash his mom sends him barely covers his rent. I’m not rich but better off financially, so I try hard not to let him buy things. He needs to save if he ever wants to get out of his situation. I can tell by his face that he doesn’t like being called out like this.

“I’m not so broke that I can’t afford crackers, Jorge,” he says with a little growl and folds his arms. “It’s fine.”

Taking a sip, I groan when the thick liquid coats my raw throat. Deciding not to continue grilling him over money, I nod. I’m not trying to be an asshole, but Olihasblown through his cash fast. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he sighs. Coming over to the sofa, he perches beside me, leaving ample space between us. “About earlier,” he starts, rubbing his palms on his jeans. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

I almost roll my eyes. I’m cranky, and I don’t have a filter when I'm cranky. “You can touch me whenever you want. You don’t need permission, Oli,” I snip and drink more tea.

That should’ve been romantic, but it came out wrong.

“Are you mad?”

I glance at him. Shit. Definitely not romantic, Jorge. “No. I feel like shit. I’m not mad at you.”

“You sure?”

I think about it.

I guess I am a little mad. Mad at the germs infesting my body, mad that he got bold while I’m vulnerable, mad that I’m offering myself up on a silver platter, but he won’t do the same for me. It’s stupid to be mad over that. I’ve been nothing but patient this whole time with zero issues. And because I truly care about him, I have to be fine with our situation. Honestly, though, I want to be held. I want to be coddled and babied because I’m miserable.

I set down the tea and scoot closer to him, and his breath hitches.

“Sorry in advance if you get sick.” And then I lean my head on his shoulder.

Just that single touch has the shitty feeling in my chest easing. I cough into my blanket, wincing through the burn in my lungs and throat. Oli sighs again and hooks his arm around my shoulders. I know I shouldn’t and should keep the boundaries, but I want to be selfish. I want to take without asking. How bad would it be if I simply curled into his side, held his waist, and took a nap on his big, meaty chest?

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