Page 74 of I Knew He Was Trouble
I moan, squeezing my eyes shut. My head is throbbing as if I stood in the front row of a rock concert, my eardrums muffled and full of pressure. Everything sounds like I’m underwater.
Except, the only sound I’ve heard today is my vomit entering the toilet. The pounding happens again, and I curl up under my sheets, dramatically pleading with the universe about what I’ll do in exchange to make it stop.
I’ll give all my cash away the next time I see the people out collecting money with their red buckets and bells ringing.
I’ll let people check out before me at the cash register, even when I’m in a rush.
I’ll even tell Tyler that I hid a candle calledSwamp Tushabove his fridge with the lid off, letting the stinky butt odor permeate throughout his kitchen.
I will literally doanythingto stop the throbbing and vomiting.
The pounding worsens again, and Winston nudges my arm with his nose. This time, a manly voice calling my name precedes the pounding.
“Tyler?” The single word makes my throat feel like I’m rubbing sandpaper on it. Am I hearing things? Dreaming up a strong, handsome doctor to take care of me?
It takes every ounce of energy I have to push up from my bed, wrap a fuzzy blanket around myself, and crawl downstairs. Winston follows dutifully behind, at my heels. I hide my face from the bright sunlight as I open the front door.
Okay, maybe I wasn’t hearing things. Standing before me, in the flesh, is Tyler Reed, holding a bunch of bags. Winston moves in front of me, standing guard. There’s no love lost between those two. But Tyler shocks me even more when he pulls a giant duck toy out of one of the bags and extends it like a peace offering to my dog.
Winston’s tail slowly starts to wag, like he’s trying not to give in. But when he can’t take it anymore, he jumps up, snatching the toy from Tyler’s hand and running past me to play with his new friend.
Tyler’s face softens as he takes me in. I’m sure my hair lookswonderful, up in my messy bun and dried in crazy ways from my fevered, sweaty state. Honestly, I might even have vomit somewhere on my face or my shirt. I’ve been too exhausted to bother to look in the mirror.
I make a move toward him, wanting to help him carry his bags inside. But exhaustion takes over, and I crumple to the ground.
The next thing I know, strong arms are around my back and under my legs, and I’m floating up the stairs.
“Maybe I am dreaming,” I murmur.
“What?” He laughs.
“You’re at work, so I’m either dreaming or hallucinating.” I grab my throat, whimpering. “Ouch.”
“Shhh.” He sets me down in bed, tucking me in under the sweat-soaked covers.
The whole room smells like vomit, so I’m really glad he’s not actually here and I’m only dreaming.
Dreamy Tyler smooths my sweaty hair back from my forehead. “Don’t try to talk, sweetheart. Just go back to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Yeah, this is definitely a dream. There’s no way Tyler would call mesweetheart.
I snuggle deeper into my blanket cocoon, and sleep finds me once again.
I don’t know what time it is when I startle awake. My hand flies to my mouth, and I rush to my shared bathroom with Alyssa. I barely make it to the toilet before I hurl again. One second, I’m getting sick, using all my strength to hold onto the toilet seat that really needs a deep cleaning after the day I’ve had, and the next, someone’s hands are tenderly rubbing my back as I vomit.
When I’ve emptied my stomach yet again, I turn to find TylerfreakingReed crouching behind me with a pitying but kind look in his eyes. He hands me a water bottle. I pour some into my mouth and swish the liquid around before spitting it into the toilet. Then I take the toilet paper he’s extending my way and wipe my eyes and mouth before flushing.
“How—” I start to ask how he got into my house, but he cuts me off.
“Do you feel strong enough to shower? It might help you feel better.”
“Is that your way of telling me I stink?” I cross my arms, trying to hold in the terrible stench.
“Just trying to help, Anderson.” He brushes a stray clump of hair that escaped my bun behind my ear.
The way his knuckles graze my cheekbone with the movement causes my breath to hitch. I clearly must be delusional right now if I’m feeling some type of way because ofhim. “A shower sounds great.”
“I’ll grab you some clean clothes.”
