by Susan Renee
“What’s in them?”
Bryant cocks his head to the side and smiles. “Why don’t you let me in so I can show you?”
“Because I didn’t invite you here, and in case you haven’t noticed, I’m all sorts of sick. I’m pretty sure I have the plague and I…”
“Savannah,” he interrupts me.
“What?”
“Trust me, okay? I’m here for you. I know you’re sick. That’s why I’m here. I came to help you.”
“I don’t need your help. Rachel is…”
“I am here in Rachel’s place. I told her I would stop by and I was even kind enough to stop at the store to pick up a few things to help you feel better.”
I eye the three paper bags he has in his arms. “A few things?”
He shrugs. “Well…I wasn’t exactly sure how sick you were or what you might want…so I improvised.”
I narrow my eyes at him. I’m losing this fight. I can feel my body wanting to go back to the couch. “How do you know Rachel?”
Bryant stares at me for a moment, dumbfounded. “Did you forget that we all went to the same high school, Seven? You left but she didn’t, and neither did I for very long. It’s a pretty small town you know. Plus, we’re like…second cousins or some shit like that. Does that answer your question? These bags aren’t getting any lighter.”
I release a huge sigh and let the door continue to swing open. On any other regular day, I would tell him to take a hike but frankly, I feel like shit and the sooner I let him in, the sooner he leaves and I return to my couch.
Bryant steps in the door and kicks it closed behind him. “Thanks,” he says softly. He checks me out from head to toe before he says, “You’re cute when you’re sick. The comfy look suits you.” He tries to smile at me but I don’t quite return the smile.
Is he really trying to flirt with me when I’m sick?
“Gee, thanks. I think.” I roll my eyes and head towards the kitchen where Bryant puts down the three bags of groceries. I watch him unload them from the bar stool I’m sitting on and can’t help but feel slightly entertained by the variety of items now sitting on my kitchen counter. A chuckle escapes me for the first time in days. It feels good to laugh a little even though I feel like hell.
“What? What’s so funny?” Bryant asks.
I pick through the items on the counter. “Well, let’s see. We’ve got crackers, Gatorade, Tylenol, ibuprofen, a baby thermometer, fuzzy socks, ice packs, a heating pad, Vicks vapor rub, a small bucket, Lysol wipes, Lysol spray, a Neti Pot, crayons, and…tampons? Wow. I guess I really do have the plague. You’ve definitely thought of everything.” Laughing hurts my stomach but the items he has here for me are damn funny…and kind of sweet.
“Okay, okay, laugh all you want. I’ve never done this before…shopped for a sick adult female, and I don’t know what you girls like. But the very nice girl at the counter schooled me on all things girly magazines. She was sure you would like this one.” He says, handing me a magazine out of the last bag.
“Ooh. People magazine. Good choice.”
This really is thoughtful.
“You know, Bryant, you really didn’t have to go to all this trouble but…”
“It wasn’t any trouble, Seven. And you’re welcome.”
He knew exactly what I was going to say. All I can do is smile softly at him.
“You’re shivering,” he says to me.
“What?”
“You’re shivering, Seven. Don’t you feel that? I can see you shivering sitting right in front of me.” He looks past me into the living room for a moment before walking swiftly to the where I left the throw blanket on the couch. Bringing it back towards me, he wraps it around my shoulders and rubs my arms from behind me to try and warm me up. My body jolts when I feel his hands touch me, like an electric spark just shot through my body. Bryant stops moving for just an instant. It’s then that I have a feeling he felt it too.
“You should go lay down for a bit. You must have a fever. I’ll make you some tea and a cup of chicken soup. You need something in your body and by the looks of you, you haven’t been eating much.”
“No. It’s fine Bryant. You don’t have to do that. I can handle it.” I wrap myself tighter in the blanket he laid over me.
“Hey.” He turns me around on my stool so I’m facing him. “I’m here aren’t I? I wanted to be here. I wanted to help you. Just trust me a little, huh? I can handle some tea and I make a mean chicken noodle soup. I think I told you that the other day.”
“You said you liked soup. You didn’t tell me you knew how to make it.”
“Yeah well there’s a lot you probably don’t know about me, Seven.” He places the back of his hand on my forehead and gives me a worried look. “You’re burning up. Come on. Let me get you settled on the couch.”
“I need to use the restroom first. I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll get you some Tylenol and water,” he says.
When I finish in the bathroom, I brush my teeth quickly. I don’t know why. Maybe I haven’t brushed them all day or maybe I’m just paranoid that there’s a guy in my apartment and my teeth don’t feel clean. Come to think of it, none of me feels clean. I probably smell like shit. Bryant is at least nice to not mention it if I do. I should get a shower later. I walk back down the hall to the living room and see Bryant sending a text message on his phone.
“Is that Rachel you’re talking to?” I ask him.
“Hmm? Oh… uh, it’s nobody.” He slides his phone back into his pocket.
“Oh.”
It’s a girl.
He has a girlfriend?
Of course he does. He had a gift in his hand the other day.
Why didn’t he say something?
“Hey, Bryant. Please don’t feel like you need to stay or anything. I know you must have other plans. Don’t break them on my account. I can take care of myself.”
“Nonsense. Here, take these and then lie down for a few while I get a pot of soup going. At least it’ll be ready for when you feel like eating. Let’s see if we can get that fever to break.” He hands me three Tylenol and a glass of water, which I devour quickly. Dang. I must be thirstier than I thought.
Bryant chuckles. “I’ll refill your glass ma’am.”
“Thanks Bryant.”
He helps get me situated on the couch, and covers me with a second blanket to cover my cold feet. The urge to ask him to sit with me and keep me warm is so strong, but I remind myself that he isn’t Shawn. He’s Bryant. That would just be hellaweird. Bryant picks up the television remote to turn up the volume for me. He turns his head back towards me and crinkles his nose.
“Really? Wedding dress shows? I guess I didn’t take you for a girly girl the other night, Seven. I’m surprised.”
“Yeah well…” I yawn. I can feel myself slipping fast. My eyes are heavy. “There’s a lot you probably don’t know about me Bryant.” I give his words right back to him. I drift off to sleep but not before I swear I hear him say “…then I can’t wait to learn.”
I have no idea how much time passes as I slip in and out of consciousness. I hear the moving around of pots and pans in the kitchen and at one point hear the kitchen sink running. I think Bryant was washing the dishes. The next time that I even slightly awaken it’s because I’m being lifted. All wrapped up in my blanket, Bryant has lifted me up and is carrying me down the hall to my bedroom.
“Bryant,” I whisper as my head curls into his chest.
“Shh, it’s okay, Seven. You’ve been sleeping pretty hard. I just wanted you to be comfortable until that fever breaks.”
He lowers me to my bed and covers me with my comforter. I’m so exhausted that I don’t even question what he’s going to do now that he’s helped me to bed. I know he’ll just see himself out and lock the door behind him. Hell, I don’t even care if he just takes my key tonight. I think I can trust that he’ll bring it back.
“Thank you, Bryant,” I say half asleep. “I’m
sorry I wasn’t good company.” My eyes open just long enough to see him kneel down next to me. He smiles shyly and smooths a wisp of hair away from my face.
“I don’t know, Seven. On a scale of one to four I would say you were great company. Cute, genuine, accommodating, not pushy at all,” he says quietly, his voice lulling me back to sleep. “I would say you were a perfect first date.”
I want to say to him that this was absolutely not a date in any way, that he’s merely wasting his time if he thinks otherwise, but I can’t fight the pull of my body forcing me back to sleep. I give in to the temptation and trust that Bryant won’t be a douche and try to take advantage of a sick girl.
Chapter 10
Bryant
August 25, 2003
On the first day of school I would usually be just as pissed off as any other boy having to put away the bike and the video games in exchange for a back pack and shit loads of homework, but this year is different. I’m finally a freshman in high school. I’m no longer a stupid junior high dweeb with unkempt hair and braces. My looks matter now if I want to score with the older girls and dang, I want to score with the girls. My older brother told me once that the cheerleaders put out pretty regularly, and that if I want to get some good head one day, I need to find a cheerleader to be friends with. One day soon, I’ll be a big shot in our school, the girls will be all over me, and I’ll be prepared for each and every one of them, but until then, it’s training time.
Sloan and I are seated half way back on the bus when it stops to let the next small group of students on. I don’t pay much attention to them until she appears. The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. In pink shorts and a flowery top, I notice right away that the top three buttons are open, leaving way too much to my imagination.
She has tits. Nice ones.
I wonder what she looks like under there.
Her long brown hair is pulled back a little bit and clipped somehow in the back. Thin silver earrings dangle from her ears. She smiles at the girl seated a couple rows in front of me as she lowers her back pack to her lap and sits down. In this moment I’m grateful to have my backpack already sitting on my lap.
That girl…
I wonder if she’s a cheerleader.
“Dude, you catching flies or what?” Sloan asks next to me.
“Huh?”
“You got a thing for Savannah Sanders?”
I laugh almost too loudly at his joke. “Dude, what are you talking about? That wasn’t Savannah San….” My voice trails off as I try to get another look at her. There’s no way that’s her. Or is it?
Long hair.
Brown eyes.
I gape at Sloan who is looking back at me with one eyebrow raised. “Uh, dude, check again. It most certainly is Savannah Sanders. Damn…summer was good to her, huh?”
I’m so busy trying to watch her that it doesn’t even register what Sloan just said. Savannah Sanders…the pudgy little girl from middle school…the girl I used to tease on bus rides home…she looks like an angel now. How could I not have recognized her?
“Do you think she’s a cheerleader?” I ask Sloan.
“Don’t know. Why?” he asks.
“No reason.”
“You think she’s hot?” he whispers to me. I’m still watching her as she talks to the girls sitting next to her.
“Yeah.” is all I can answer.
“Hmm.” Sloan looks out the window for a moment before turning back to me. “On a scale of one to four – one being I-would-rather-kiss-a-Troll, and four being I-would-do-her, how hot is she?”
The ridiculousness of Sloan’s question isn’t lost on me, but I’m so enthralled with the sheer beauty that is Savannah Sanders sitting just a few rows ahead of me, that I can’t help but answer his question unequivocally.
“On a scale of one to four…” I say. “She’s a fuckin’ seven.”
*****
I watch her breathing even out as she falls asleep so peacefully. I could watch her sleep all night long, but I don’t. Quietly, I rise to my feet and slip out of her bedroom, leaving the door cracked so I can hear her in case she needs something while I’m still here.
I’m still here.
She didn’t make me leave.
What do I do with that?
Does she want me to stay?
She probably doesn’t know what time it is.
Should I go?
I should go.
I feel the twinge in my chest that I can only assume is my heart growing again as it makes room for Savannah…or maybe it’s guilt that I wasn’t with Ivy tonight. I stand and walk back to Savannah’s kitchen, quickly sending a text to Rachel, hoping she’s still awake.
Me: Hey. Is Ivy mad at me?
Rachel: Not that I know of. Should she be?
Me: Guess not except I wasn’t with her tonight.
Rachel: How’s Savannah?
Me: Pretty high fever that won’t break. I just carried her to bed. She
hasn’t eaten.
Rachel: She’s in bed and you’re still there?
Me: She didn’t kick me out and I need to clean the kitchen. I made
soup.
Rachel: Stay there tonight.
Me: Come again?
Whoa. What? Did I just read that correctly? Rachel is telling me to stay here? I mean standing here right now in Savannah’s kitchen, I sure as hell don’t want to leave, but I’m still a respectable guy. I would never take advantage of her like that.
Rachel: Let’s not talk about who’s coming and who’s not ok? She
might need someone and depending on what she may have she
could be contagious anyway. Just sleep on the couch.
Me: You really think she would be ok with that?
Rachel: What’s her temp?
Me: Dunno.
Rachel: Go take it.
Me: Are you serious?
Rachel: Yes
I look around for the thermometer I purchased earlier today. Mixed in with all the items I purchased, I pull it out of the pile. “Damnit,” I whisper. Obviously I didn’t even notice that I had picked up a pediatric thermometer. No wonder she was laughing at me earlier. I’m such a dumbass sometimes. Ripping open the packaging, I quickly scan the directions and walk back to Savannah’s room, pushing her door open and slipping inside.
“Savannah…” I whisper to see if she’s awake, but she doesn’t answer me.
Thankfully she’s out like a light and doesn’t even budge when I stick the thermometer lightly in her ear to take her temperature. I cringe and take a deep breath when the thermometer beeps loudly several times in a row. The color on the screen is red and the temp reads 103.1.
Damn.
No wonder she’s miserable.
I step outside Savannah’s bedroom to send a reply to Rachel, letting her know Savannah’s temperature and that she’s sleeping heavily.
Rachel: Stay there. She may need you.
Me: What about Ivy?
Rachel: Don’t worry. I’ll cover for you.
Me: You sure?
Rachel: I can’t believe this is all my idea but yes I’m sure. Savannah
has nobody.
Me: But what about Ivy?
Rachel: Don’t worry about her. Things will work out however
they’re meant to.
Me: Thanks Rache. That means a lot coming from you.
Rachel: Yeah yeah. Keep me posted.
I spend the next hour or so cleaning the mess that I made in the kitchen and try to figure out where I might put the things I bought for Savannah earlier today. One bag will just need to sit in the bathroom until she decides where to put it all. I’m not the kind of guy who rummages through a woman’s bathroom cabinets looking for tampons and girly shit like that. I’ll leave that for her to do. Once everything is in place for the night, I turn out most of the lights, leaving a small light on above the stove in the kitchen in case she needs a drink. I make my way to the couch, kick off my shoes, pull my shirt off and
get as comfortable as I can get for the night. I would much rather be curled up behind Savannah holding her until she feels better but this time, the couch will have to do.
Chapter 11
Savannah
I’m a sticky mess.
My stomach is growling.
The clock says 6 AM but I’m not sure I can go back to sleep right now. Clearly my fever broke overnight as I’m now lying in a puddle of sweat-soaked sheets. I’m still wearing the sweat pants, sweatshirt and heavy socks I fell asleep in and they’re all now clinging uncomfortably to my skin. I feel gross. I spot a bottle of Gatorade on my bed stand and immediately open it, drinking almost the entire thing. Parched doesn’t begin to describe my present condition. Undoubtedly I’m dehydrated; I’ll have to fix that today and force myself to drink more. Eating more shouldn’t be a problem, though, as hungry as I feel but first, I have to get a shower and scrub all this nasty off of me. Rolling out of bed slowly, I gather my robe and head down the hall to the bathroom.
Snoring.
I hear snoring.
My nerves send my body slamming back against the wall frozen in fear.
What the fuck? I thought I was alone.
I’m too scared to speak. If it’s an intruder, waking him could mean danger for me. I slip into the kitchen and grab a knife from the block by the stove. I’ve never in my life had the urge to stab someone, but at least it’s something just in case. Walking quietly down the hall, I turn my head to peer into the living room where the snoring is coming from and holy hell…I wasn’t prepared for that sight so early in the morning.
Shirtless.
Asleep on my couch.
Bryant Wood.
Though a feeling of relief washes over me, my eyebrows shoot up and I immediately find it difficult to swallow when I catch the sight of Bryant on the couch. Feeling guilty and a little afraid of getting caught staring, I look away. I can’t help myself though. I have to look again. His left arm is hanging off the couch but his right is resting peacefully across his stomach. He has one of the throw blankets draped over him so I’m not getting a full view but from what I can see, he has broad shoulders. So many thoughts run through my head. I don’t know whether to be pissed off or…sort of…grateful that he’s still here?
