Page 36 of Cruising with You

“I dunno,” I answer honestly. “I just feel like you shouldn’t be down here by yourself. Especially when you feel like shit.”

“I’ve been sick before and have battled it by myself, ya know.”

“Yeah, but that was before you gave me your pin for the week,” I counter with a wink while pointing to the red tag on my shirt.

“That pin doesn’t mean anything, Gage.” I can’t decide if the defeat in her tone is because she’s been puking for the last twelve hours or if it’s because of this stupid tag. Tilting my head, I study her in hopes of finding out which one it is but come up empty.

“It means something to me,” I offer after a few seconds of silence.

“You don’t need to do this, you know,” she mutters while rolling onto her side to get more comfortable.

Slipping the oversized T-shirt back up her arm to cover her bare shoulder, I follow it with the scratchy white sheets that came with the room. “I know I don’t. But it’s not a big deal. When was the last time you puked?”

“I don’t know…it’s all a blur.” Nora laughs pathetically before closing her eyes and sighing. “All I know is that I’m exhausted.” Fidgeting, she rolls onto her other side then moans.

“You should uh…you should try to get some rest,” I tell her, still feeling helpless.

“It’s been hard for me to sleep. These pillows are kind of crappy.”

Rounding the bed, I set the food I’d brought her on the edge of the mattress, then climb in beside her and pull her onto my chest before she can protest.

“Sleep,” I order.

“It’s your last day. You should be up by the pool drinking Piña Coladas––”

“Nora. Sleep.”

She rests her head back down against my pec for about two seconds before raising it again. “But I feel weird sleeping––”

“Nora. Seriously. Go to sleep. I’m a Leo, remember? If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be.”

Chewing on her lower lip, she peeks up at me. “You sure?”

The vulnerability that shines through is staggering, and even though I don’t know what to do with it, I choke out, “Yeah. Positive.”

Seconds later, her muscles melt into me, and she slips into unconsciousness.

Unsure of what to do with myself or how I even got myself into this position in the first place, I look around Nora’s room and notice how cluttered it is. It’s not a mess by any means, but her outfit from the night before is tossed in the corner near her suitcase, and her shoes are lying in the center of the room. It’s like she felt so sick that she couldn’t even find the effort to keep her otherwise tidy room in check.

A few tissues are wadded up and thrown haphazardly onto the minuscule nightstand beside the bed, so I grab them with my hand that isn’t tucked around Nora and toss them in the garbage can across the room like a seasoned basketball player.

I replace the used tissues on the nightstand with the food I’d grabbed from the buffet. I wouldn’t want them to get lost in the sheets. Hopefully, when she wakes up, she’ll feel like eating. She’s already a tiny little thing. She needs to start keeping food down, or I might need to get the staff involved.

Could she need an IV or something?

I glance down at her again. She looks okay. She looks better than okay. Even without any makeup on and her hair a tangled mess, she’s beautiful.

And damn, her lashes are long. How did I never notice the smattering of freckles along the bridge of her nose? Does she always sleep with her mouth slightly parted like that? Her breathdoesn’t smell like puke, so I’m going to assume she brushed her teeth after the last time she lost her cookies in the toilet. Even with the rat’s nest on her head that replaced her long brown hair, she’s still the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.

I squeeze my arm a little tighter around her, then close my eyes to get some sleep. I’m not tired or anything, but there’s a weird sense of peace when I’m holding her, and I’d be a fool to let it go.

To lethergo.

I’m notsure how long I’ve slept, but my arm is officially numb. Carefully, I slide it out from beneath Nora’s head as she snores softly, then get to my feet.

My mouth spreads into a smile before I realize how creepy I must look staring at her while she sleeps. With a quick shake of my head to snap myself out of whatever the hell I’m feeling, I scan her room again. Her outfit from yesterday is still on the floor, so I fold it before setting it carefully on her closed suitcase, then I plug in her cell phone to let it charge in case she needs it when she wakes up. Satisfied that the main living space is relatively in order, I head to the bathroom.

A white, unused hand towel hangs on the hook near the mirror, so I wet it, then wipe down the sink and toilet the best that I can without any actual disinfectant. I shrug while inspecting my handiwork.

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