Page 42 of Would You Rather
Chapter 15
In sickness and in health
She’s late.
I can’t believe this. After hounding me about being late to the photoshoot and assuring me she would be there on time, here I am, at her apartment, knocking on her damn door.
She still hasn’t answered, and my body breaks out into a sweat. Where the hell is she? I’ve called her, and it goes straight to voicemail. I’ve texted her, and she hasn’t replied. I’ve been knocking on her door for the past five minutes, and no answer.
I bang on her door once again, reaching for my phone with the other hand to check on the time. Five minutes until the interview is supposed to start, and she’s nowhere to be found.
“Madeline,” I shout again, knocking harder. “Where the hell are you?” I run a hand through my hair, cursing when my phone buzzes, Ana’s name on the screen. I quickly hang up the call and stuff my phone back in my pocket. I can’t deal with her right now, not until I find Madeline. I can’t exactly show up girlfriend-less, which means I need her. Wherever the hell she is.
“Madeline,” I call out, knocking again. “Are you in there?”
My shoulders drop in relief when I hear mumbles from behind the door. Thank fuck. I don’t know what the hell she’sbeen doing or why she’s late, but at least now I know she’s alive.
But as soon as the door opens, and I see her face, I quickly retract my statement. She might be alive, but holy fuck, she looks halfway to death. Her sunken eyes are squinting, trying her hardest to open them.
“Jesus,” I exhale. “What the hell happened to you?”
“What are you doing here?” she asks, her brows furrowed as she tries to open her eyes wider.
As charming as ever, I see.
I let out a sigh, not wanting to argue. “You’re late,” I point out, trying not to convey how pissed I am. I trusted her. She assured me she’d be there, and she’s not.
She blinks, shaking her head. “Late?” she asks, her face contorting as if the word tastes bitter in her mouth.
“For the interview?” I remind her. “The CelebCentral interview we had planned to announce our relationship and how I’ve settled down. Blah, blah, blah,” I trail off, waving my hand.
Her eyes widen immediately as she covers her mouth with her hand. “Oh shit!” She turns around, rushing inside her apartment, closing her bedroom door once she’s inside.
I blink, staring into her apartment. Does she want me to wait inside? I walk into her apartment and close the door before sitting down on the armchair as I hear her mumbling to herself in her room.
She wasn’t just late. She forgot. The girl who writes down what she’s going to eat for the week just simply forgot?
Something falls to the ground, catching my attention, and I snap my head toward the sound coming from inside her bedroom. “Are you ok in there?” I ask her, a little worried.
“Yes,” she snaps, a little harsher than needed. “I’m fine. Just… wait for a second while I get changed.”
I scoff, shaking my head. “It’s not like I can show up without you.” I doubt it’s going to take a second. I’ve seen what that girl wears, how she always seems to have her makeup and hair done to perfection. She doesn’t rush anything, and based on the warzone going on in her bedroom, I can guess I’m going to have to wait a lot more than just a second.
I glance down at my phone, ignoring the hundreds of calls from Ana, and notice the time. We’re clearly not going to make it.
Ten minutes and a bunch of curse words later, Madeline’s door opens, and she walks out, looking as beautiful as ever, with her usual gorgeous outfit, this time, a little pink dress on her body and her makeup done. But something about her is… off. She doesn’t look the same; she looks completely defeated.
I rub my chin, my brows knitting together as I look up at her. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask her.
She glances down at her outfit with a frown. “Do you have a problem with what I’m wearing?”
I shake my head. “No, that’s not—”
But when she sneezes, my eyebrows furrow, and I lift myself off the chair, heading toward her. I place the back of my hand on her forehead. She tries to step back as soon as my hand touches her, but she’s too late. I already felt her skin. She’s burning up. “You’re sick,” I say, realization dawning on me.
“What?” she says, sniffling. “Of course, I’m not sick. You’re crazy.” She shivers, trying to push past me. “We’re going to be late. We need to go.”
We’re way past late, but I don’t mention that to her. If she thinks I’m going to let her go like this, she’s dead wrong. “Madeline.” I reach out to grab her wrist. Her eyes fall to my hand wrapped around her, and I quickly drop my hand, remembering how she doesn’t like when I touch her. “You’re not going anywhere.”
