Page 67 of The Infiniteness of Yesterday
“Medicine cabinet.”
He’s gone again, leaving behind his scent of citrus and salty ocean air.
Moments later, he breezes back in with the thermometer and aims it at my forehead.
“Careful where you point that thing,” I joke and manage to get him to crack a smile.
“Just shy of a hundred so I’d say you just have a low-grade fever.”
“Thank you, Dr. Shaw.”
He chuckles and sets the thermometer on the table with the rest of my boons.
“Is there anything else I can get you right now?”
“No.” I reach for the ginger ale, but he scoops it up and hands it to me before my fingers can close around the aluminum. “Go home, Spencer. I’m sure you had more important things to do than to be here taking care of me today.”
His normally light blue eyes darken to a murky ocean. “Trust me, Low, there’s nowhere else I would rather be today.”
I swallow down the rest of my protests. “Well … thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He moves to leave my room, but I sigh and pat the empty space beside me in the bed. That side of the bed is made thanks to Jameson.
“If you’re staying you might as well hangout in here. We can put a show on or a movie.”
He arches a brow, skepticism lining his face. “Are you sure? I’m fine to chill in your living room until you need me.”
“Sit.” I point to the spot.
He chuckles. “Yes, ma’am.”
He settles beside me in the bed, but on top of the covers. He crosses his bare feet at the ankles and adjusts the pillows behindhim. He’s dressed comfortably in a pair of cotton shorts and a green t-shirt.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better since I threw up,” I admit. “I don’t know if it’s a bug or I’m just so exhausted.” I pick at a loose thread in the stitching of my quilt.
“I know what you’re going to say, but I’m going to make the offer anyway—quit your job. I can cover your expenses here and you can focus on Roe and school.”
I’m already shaking my head before he finishes. “I don’t want that.”
He sighs. “Offer’s always on the table. Just so you know. You won’t even accept child support from me so it’s the least I could do.”
I ignore his comment and scoop up the remote and pass it to him. “Put something on.”
While he’s finding something to watch, I grab the Tylenol and down two capsules chasing it with the water. It’s probably not smart of me to take it on an empty stomach, but I don’t feel like I can eat yet.
“Star Wars?” I arch a brow.
“Revenge of the Sith to be exact. Remember that summer when you first discovered these and watched them non-stop.”
“Hayden Christenson is hot. Who can blame me? Plus, the story is good. It’s a tragic romance—and there’s space and blasters and light sabers and?—”
His hand covers my mouth. “Okay, okay.”
Spencer took me to a special showing of the prequel trilogy at our local movie theater when they played all three movies back-to-back.
