Page 24 of The First Kind of Love
I’m trying to lighten the situation, but I can tell there’s nothing I can do to save what was, hands down, the best moment of my life. And now it’s gone, all because my stomach’s revolting the very safe, verynormaldinner I just ate ten minutes ago.
“It sounds like there’s a war going on in your stomach.”
I throw my head back against the couch with a groan, refusing to brave a glance in her direction. My whole face is burning like the surface of the sun. “I’m sorry. It’s just a bit of indigestion.”
I don’t know why Shiloh hasn’t run for the hills yet, but she nods sympathetically. “Do you want some TUMS?”
Hah. Good ol’ TUMS. Always helpful when I eat…
And then it dawns on me. Cold, hard realization douses my spine like a bucket of ice water, negating the heat still flourishing through every inch of my body. The spasming is getting worse, nausea’s pooling at the base of my throat, and I’m beginning to sweat through my goddamn shirt. Iknowthese telltale signs. I’m not indisposed because of a few pre-date jitters.
Staying as calm as possible, I feel my features pinch in discomfort, and I let out a breath that doesn’t seem to relieveany of my growing unrest. “Shi, what was in the dinner you made?”
She freezes like a deer caught in headlights. “Um, bone broth, rice noodles, beef, bean sprouts, cilantro, green onions, a little bit of cheese. The recipe doesn’t usually call for cheese, but my mother always gratinated her Pho with Gruyère.”
We both stare at each other. The puzzle piece falls into place. She mirrors my “oh shit” face.
“You order dairy-free coffee.”
“Yeah.”
“I just fed you dairy.”
“Yeah.”
“Oh my God. You’re lactose intolerant,” she whispers, immediately hiding her face in her palms. “I’m so, so sorry, Fulton. It totally slipped my mind. I—Ipoisonedyou.”
Even though the situation is pretty dire, I can’t help the laugh that expels from me. “You didn’t poison me. I’ll live. It’s just a stomachache.”
Shiloh lifts her head, begins to fret like I’ve seen my mother do a million times when I came to her after accidentally—or purposefully—ingesting lactose as a kid, and rests the back of her hand against my clammy forehead.
“Do you need to go to the hospital? Are you about to pass out? What can I do?”
Despite my gut bubbling like a cauldron, the feel of her touch is placating, and I kind of drift off into this semiconscious state where everything’s fuzzy and the cramps are nothing but a dull throb. “Keep touching me. It feels nice.”
Panic thickens her tone. “Dear God, you’re delirious. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I do.You’rewhat I need right now, okay? Just you.”
I sidle up against her body, but no niggling worry of being disgusting or embarrassed crosses the threshold of my mind. Infact, I’ve never felt so at peace before. I feel safe being this close to her. I feel…spared of any judgment.
That is, until everything goes south (literally and figuratively), and the impenetrable traffic jam of dairy packed in my stomach begins to try and digest itself. I’m going to fart. Fuck. I’m not just going to fart, I’m going to shit my pants.
“You need to leave,” I say, repelling myself from her body and trying to push her toward the exit.
Shiloh doesn’t budge. “What?”
“Shiloh, I’m serious.”
“We’re sharing a hotel room!”
I scrub a hand down my face, mentally debating with myself what my next course of action is. A, everything goes right for once and Shiloh leaves the premises immediately. B, I barely make it to the bathroom and the nonexistent fan does nothing to cover up the noise. Or C, I actually shit my pants and drive the only woman I’ve ever wanted a thousand miles away from me.
All of it is pretty humiliating, so I don’t know why I’m trying so hard to save my dignity. “Please. Just for, like, thirty minutes,” I beg.
“I’m not going to leave you like this!” she argues.
I’d physically shove her out the door, but I don’t have that kind of energy—or that kind of time. I get a rush that beelines for my lower,lowerintestines, and I’m hightailing it to the bathroom without her evacuating the vicinity like I had hoped. I can hear Shiloh shouting at me from over my shoulder, but I lock the door before she gets the chance to barge in.
