Page 18 of All This Time
“Is this a newer model or something?”
“Yeah. It’s supposed to monitor my insulin more closely.”
He shakes his head slowly. “I can’t imagine dealing with that.”
“Having type 1 diabetes?”
“Yeah. Having to watch what you eat all the time…” There’s a compassion in his eyes that’s unnerving, so I look away from him before I reply because talking to Fletcher about this right now is making me feel uncomfortable.
“I’m used to it now. I was diagnosed when I was eight.”
“How did you know you had it?”
I huff out a laugh as I stare down at the floor. “We don’t have to talk about this, Fletcher.”
He places his hand on my forearm, drawing my gaze to him again. “I want to know, Laney.”
My pulse picks up as I watch his blue eyes bounce back and forth between mine. “Okay…” I draw in a breath. “Well, according to what my mom has told me, I was hungry all the time and eating everything in sight, but I was losing weight. I was moody and irritable, and I started getting sick to my stomach and vomiting. They took me to the ER one night when I started slurring my words, the doctors ran a bunch of tests, and my blood sugar was off the charts.”
“Jesus.”
“From then on, I just remember going to lots of doctors’ appointments, crying every time I had to be poked with a needle, and feeling like I was different than everyone else.” I turn away from him. “I still do.”
“I think you’re a rock star.”
I spin back to face him. “What?”
He props the pillow behind his head so he can sit up a bit more, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I mean, you’re smart as hell, nice to everyone even though most kids at our school don’t deserve it, you aren’t afraid to tell it like it is, and you do it all while dealing with an autoimmune disease.” The corner of his mouth lifts even higher. “You don’t realize how incredible you are, Laney.”
Somebody pinch me, please.Fletcher Adams is complimenting me.
“You’re also true to who you are. You don’t put on a show to try to fit in with people.”
“I literally only have like two friends, Fletcher, and one of them is Dilynne.”
He chuckles. “Well, we’re friends, aren’t we?”
I feel my smile start to build. “Yeah, I guess we are.”
Fletcher lets out a yawn and closes his eyes, ending our moment, and I’m grateful—because my heart feels like it’s about to launch itself from my chest.
“Do you mind if I just close my eyes for a minute before I leave?” he asks.
I stand from my bed, not sure how to answer. If my parents knew I had a boy in my bed right now, I’m pretty sure I’d be grounded until I turned thirty.
“Uh, shouldn’t I get Rhonan? I mean, you can sleep in his room…”
He shakes his head, turning on his side and repositioning the ice pack against his temple. “No, don’t bother him. I won’t be here long.”
I bite my thumbnail, growing more anxious by the second. “Fletcher…”
“Thanks for the ice, Laney,” he mumbles. “You’re an angel.”
After a few moments, his breathing grows heavy.
Looking around my room, I fight with myself over what to do. I should wake him up and tell him to leave, but I just can’t find it in my heart to do it.
So I don’t.
