Page 6 of Roommates
L U C A S
I n hindsight, upping the doses of medication I was taking was not a good idea. Thursday afternoon, I popped two pills before sitting down to study—Adam was out taking his exam—and about an hour later, my stomach started churning as if I'd eaten a piece of cheesecake after it had been left out in the burning sun for a week. In short, I was not having a great day. It must have shown on my face too, because when Adam came back to our room a few minutes after I'd started contemplating getting a divorce from my stomach, he immediately asked me if something was wrong.
“Nothing,” I said, trying to focus back on my homework.
“I don't know, man. You look really pale.”
“That's because I don't spend my time tanning.” I rubbed my face with the heel of my hand. “How did your exam go?”
“Not too bad, really. I think I might actually have passed!”
“Yeah? That's great,” I made myself say, even though I was hardly hearing what he was saying. The contents of my belly had just let me know that they were preparing for emergency evacuation and they weren't going to wait for me if I didn't make it to an appropriate exit within the next few seconds.
Clutching my hand in front of my mouth, I dashed out of the room and down the hall to the restroom.
Just in time, I made it into one of the stalls and kneeled in front of the porcelain throne inside. What happened next wasn't pretty, but inevitable—at least I managed to get all of it into the bowl, instead of elsewhere. I hated for my surroundings to be messy even when I was sick—and I didn’t even want to think about how dirty the cold tiles under my knees were.
Nope, not gonna think about it.
It would only have led to more retching—which, to be honest, happened anyway; I wasn't quite done after that first round. It was as if my body wanted to teach me a definite lesson about screwing with my pills.
Guess I deserved this.
Feeling disgusted with myself, I reached up to flush the toilet just as someone else entered the bathroom.
Great, a witness.And I hadn't thought to lock the stall behind me.
“You sure you're okay?”
Adam's voice. I had to keep myself from groaning. Did he really have to follow me? Even though I knew my little crush on him wasn't going anywhere, he was just about the last person I wanted to see me like this.So uncool.
“I'm fine,” I ground out, turning to face him.
“You don't look fine to me.”
I turned to the toilet again. “Go back to our room.”
“You don't have to be embarrassed, you know,” he said, stubbornly not leaving. “This is college. Do you have any idea how many guys I've seen puke? No, I guess you don't, because you don't go to parties, do you?”
“Really don't want to talk about parties right now.” I didn't have time for parties, and I definitely didn't want to think about booze and people puking while my stomach rebelled. Just to be sure, I crept another inch closer to the toilet.
“Are you sure? Because I think distractions can be good.”
“You're not distracting me. You're talking about people who puke at parties while I'm trying not to—”
I stopped myself as the urge to the urge to throw up again became too great to handle. Ugh. This sucked. I clamped my mouth shut with my hand, wondering what Adam had to be thinking of me right now. I definitely wasn't being sexy right now, and even though I'd flushed before he came in, an acidic smell lingered in the air.
Well, at least he wouldn't be catching my omega scent now.
“Just let it out.” Suddenly, Adam was kneeling on the floor next to me, his hand on my back. “Trust me, you'll feel better.”
And I was so confused by his touch that I forgot to keep my stomach in check. I was lucky to be able to whisk my hand away from my mouth in time before the very last pieces of my lunch came up. Adam rubbed my back, even as I heaved, and then he gave me some toilet paper so I could wipe my mouth.
“Better?” he asked. “Do you need to see the nurse?”
“No, I think I'll be fine.” I did not want to explain to the nurse why I was feeling sick. Besides, my stomach was settling again.
“If you're sure.” Adam rested his hand on my arm as we left the restroom together. He probably didn't mean anything by it—he was just friendly—but his touch seemed to sear through my clothes. Conner had been right when he said my heat was close. I could feel it now, simmering below the surface in its suppressed state. It made me nervous, like it could break through the chemical chains I used to tie it down any second. That had never happened before, but I'd never been this close to an alpha during my heat either.
