Page 86 of The Sun
“Thanks. But I prefer to be called beautiful.” She gave a weak smirk.
“Noted.” I glanced at the medicine bottles and cups that cluttered her nightstand. “Can you take some more Tylenol or something? Cause, I’m no doctor, but you have a fever.”
“I think so. Check the notepad.”
I took the spiral steno book, trailing my fingertip down the charted times she’d had medicine, then I checked the clock. “Yeah, you need more.” I took the pill bottle, dumped two capsules into my palm, and then handed them to her along with a half-empty glass of water.
She sat up to swallow them down before she fell back against the pillow mountain. “I feel selfish that I asked you to come over here,” she said. “You’re gonna get sick.”
“Nah. But even if I do, it’s worth it.” As ridiculous as that sounded, I meant it.
“You’re crazy.”
“Obviously.” I waved my hand around her room. “I did just creep into your house even though your dad hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you.”
I gave her a sure-he-doesn’t glare.
“He’s just. I don’t know.” She sat up and coughed. The way her chest rattled made mine go tight.
I crawled into bed, positioned myself against the headboard, and stretched out my arm. “Come here.” I pulled her warm body to mine and kissed her forehead. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
We laid in silence, tracing our fingertips over one another’s arms. “Have you ever wondered if Jimi Hendrix ate peanut butter sandwiches?”
“No.” She laughed, then coughed a little. “Why would I wonder that? Oh, wait. Against the ruled to ask two questions?”
“There are no rules in Have You Ever, Sunny Ray. I was just stalling that time.” I kissed her cheek. “And to answer your question, I always like to think about famous people doing normal stuff. Like eating cheap sandwiches and having to put stamps on bills.”
“I doubt they pay their own bills.”
“They probably don’t make their own peanut butter sandwiches either. Okay, your turn.”
Her finger drew a zigzag over my chest. “Have you ever. . .wondered if maybe the world is just some tiny blood cell floating along in some giant’s bloodstream?”
I felt my brows raise, and I placed my hand against her forehead again. “Do we need to take your temperature? That sounds like the fever is really getting to you.”
She gave me a look. “I’m not that sick.”
“Okay. Well, no. I can one-hundred percent, honestly say I have never thought about that.”
Inhaling, I tried to come up with some Have You Ever question to top that one, and while I struggled, Sunny snuggled into the crook of my neck.
“Whatever it is about you that always makes me feel better, I sure do like it.” She buried her nose in my shirt and took a deep breath. “And I like the way you smell familiar and good.”
“Yeah?” I rested my chin on the top of her head. “I like the way you smell, too.”
“What? Like dirty bedsheets.”
“Nah, like the girl I’m madly in love with,” I said.
“How lucky am I to be a girl who’s madly in love with a boy who’s madly in love with her?”
“I think we’re the luckiest people in the world.”
Sunny draped an arm over my stomach and, soon enough, the rise and fall of her chest fell into the rhythm of sleep.
