Page 49 of Cut up
I feel the heat rise in my cheeks. “You wish.” I toss the clothes at him and quickly busy myself with fluffing a pillow.
But the damage is done. My brain’s short-circuited. I can still feel the image of his bare chest like it’s been imprinted into the back of my eyelids.
He finishes changing, then falls back against the pillows coughing more.
I quickly pass him the water bottle.
He takes a big drink, his throat finally calming a bit. “I’ve got this now. You can go… I don’t want you getting sick too.”
“I know, but I want to stay. Don’t worry about me. I’m tough as nails. I touch people for a living remember? My immune system isbulletproof. Plus, I’m not leaving you like this.” I sit on the edge of the bed.
“You really don’t have t—”
“Lucas, I’m staying okay?”
He groans again, but gives me a soft, exhausted smile. “If you insist.”
“You’re a stubborn man.” I laugh, and we smile at each other.
That chemistry is always simmering between us. But now isn’t the time to let it spark.
I glance at the huge TV on the wall. “Want me to put something on? Or do you just wanna sleep?”
“You can put something on, but only if you lay down too,” he says, patting the spot beside him.
The bed is massive. I could easily lie beside him without even brushing shoulders. But the idea of lyingnextto him? Feels dangerous.
I climb in anyway. Staying on top of the covers. Just a girl helping out a sick housemate. Nothing more.
“Fine. But I’m picking,” I say, grabbing the remote.
He nods, content. “Deal.”
I put onGilmore Girls,another comfort show I watch on repeat. I remember watching it with Mum when I was little. I didn’t always get what was happening, but she loved it. And now I do too. I glance over at Lucas, who’s already fast asleep. His hair’s messy, his skin flushed. I probably stare too long at his beautiful face. My chest feels tight. I can’t feel like this. I should leave. But I’m too comfortable and I love this show. So I stay.
Even when my eyes get heavy, I stay.
I wake up to movement and coughing. I blink, realizing I’m still in Lucas’s bed. Except now, my head isonhis chest, my legs are entwined with his. He’s still asleep, but his arm is wrapped tightly around me. We’re moulded together like a perfect puzzle piece.
The TV is still playing, and judging by the episode, I’ve only been out for about 45 minutes.
I don’t move. Not right away.
I glance over to his face. Peaceful. Pale. Still too warm. I place my hand on his forehead. The fever’s dropped a little.
Slowly, carefully, I slip out of the bed. I head to the home gym for a quick workout, just to clear my mind.
Afterward, I peek into his room. He’s awake now, but barely. I let him rest and go to the kitchen to make bacon and eggs on toast.
When I return, he looks up at me with a sleepy smile. Still a bit pale.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d be hungry, but thought I’d make something anyway.”
His lips quirk. “I’m actually starving. Thank you.”
I set everything up on a tray between us, and we eat in bed like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
“You feeling any better?” I ask between bites.
