Page 133 of Sweetheart

Which was a definite sign that it was past time to break up.

As I sat there in my room, tissue in one hand, phone in the other, I debated.

Should I text him?

Or maybe call?

It was definitely the cowardly way out, but maybe the trick was to rip the band-aid off. I was staring at my phone so hard that I jumped when a text came through.

Hey, Kent.Can you let me in?

I stared at the words.

Was I seeing things?

I kept popping fevers left and right, so it was very possible.

Then I heard a light tapping sound at my window.

"What the…?"

My phone buzzed again, and I looked down.

Sam:It's me.

Sam:Will you come to the window?

Sam:I brought you something. (Yes, that was a bribe and a tease to get you over here)

Shaking my head, I stood, crossed my bedroomto the window, lifted the latch and pushed up the glass. Sam was standing there, smiling at me.

"Hey," he said. "Long time no see."

"Bishop?" I sniffled. "What are you doing here?"

"When you weren't at school, I got worried. Scarlett Kent never skips. So, I knew you had to be dying."

He was right.

Not about the dying part.

But I'd never skipped class. There was so much to learn, and we covered a lot in a day.

"So, you came to give your final regards," I said. "That was kind."

"I was worried about you," he repeated.

Even in my sorry state, those words lifted my spirits.

"Well, here I am," I said.

"Here you are."

I tilted my head, silly, fever-induced thoughts running rampant through my mind.

Why was Sam Bishop so lovely?

Did he know that his smile was like medicine to my soul?

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