Page 35 of My Secret Bandit

I had every intention of telling whoever stood on the other side of the door to fuck off.

Delivery man, post woman, door-to-door salesperson. I didn’t care. Patient, forgiving Jamie left as soon as the thermometer showed four digits instead of three.

All that energy left when a brown paper bag and the sweetest concerned face came into view.

“Mateo?” I asked, unsure if this was real or some fantastic fever-induced hallucination. Even as the back of his fingers laid against my forehead and cheeks, I wasn’t sure.

“Shit, Jameson! You’re burning up.” His voice floated in the air.

Still somewhere between real and fantasy, I let him move me back to the couch.

“Why do you have this thick ass robe on?”

Without waiting for my reply, he untangled the knot and slid the robe from my shoulders, leaving me in my tank top and sleep shorts.

Sweet relief of the AC hit my hot skin while I tried to figure out when exactly I put it on.

Had it been on all day?

Is that why the bed felt so uncomfortable?

Tired eyes watched Mateo throw the robe onto the barstool and focus his attention on the paper bag. His lips moved, but no sound came out.

“What?”

He didn’t answer.

At least I didn’t think he did.

Bag forgotten, he stood and vanished into the bedroom. When he reappeared, a cool washcloth moved over my skin.

“I asked if you’d eaten today. Where’s your thermometer?”

“How are you here… when you were just?” I asked, pointing to the TV and ignoring his questions because my brain could only focus on one thing at a time.

“Game’s over baby,” he said as he smoothed the cloth over my chest, a thin stream of water slipping between my breasts.

I laid my head back and moaned. The coolness was exactly what I needed. With eyes closed and head resting on the cushion, I felt Mateo’s body shift off the couch again.

Cold metal tapped my lower lip and his soft voice filled my aching ears, “Open up, Jameson.”

My lips parted, hard metal and plastic eased gently under my tongue, and warm fingers guided my mouth closed again.

By the time the beeping sounded, I decided this probably wasn’t a hallucination.

“What?” I grumbled after he removed the device from my lips.

“A hundred and one point six.”

“Good.”

“Good?” Mateo asked in disbelief.

“Lower,” I murmured.

“It was higher?”

His octave change helped my eyes open to see worry lines creasing his handsome face.Wellmewould’ve told him to leave or wear a mask to prevent himself from catching whatever I had butsickmecouldn’t find the energy to get the words out.

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