by Lara Swann
And what it could mean.
Chapter Fourteen
Ava
After that incredible-but-stupid-but-incredible night, I don’t see Damien again before we leave the next afternoon.
That’s probably a good thing, as I figure I need some time to get my head around everything that happened - and stop it from trying to jump straight back into bed with him again. Something that seems to be a very real risk.
Damn it Ava. You’re so screwed. Have I mentioned you’re screwed? Yeah, screwed.
I think he and Katy were supposed to be leaving with us on the same flight, but they extended their trip for another few days. I’d guess because of the issues he mentioned he was having with Prestige, but I don’t tell anyone else that, and I hope not. Part of me hopes that he’s just decided to take some time to properly enjoy New York City - after everything he told me, I can’t help feeling that he deserves it.
I try not to think about that too much.
Partly because the idea of losing my parents at all, let alone that young, is enough to freak me out completely - but also partly because it makes me think of the way he stepped up to raise his sister, giving up all his dreams to try to give her something resembling a normal life after such a horrific accident.
It’s breathtakingly admirable - and even more impressive that he somehow made it work - but it’s definitely not something I want to be thinking about.
I always thought he was ridiculously hot. I haven’t been able to deny how damn incredible he is with sex.
But that…that makes me think things about him that are far more dangerous.
It’s bad enough to have the first couple of thoughts. Even worse that I gave into more sex with him. I definitely can’t be adding anything else in there.
I text Vicki the next day. I’m a little surprised that I wait even that long - but I spent most of the evening after he left lying in bed and daydreaming about what had just happened. There were a few intermittent thoughts that I should get back to work, but I didn’t. For once, there was something more interesting than the latest design issue we were working through.
Me: It happened again.
Only Vicki would jump straight to the right conclusion with that brief message - and she doesn’t disappoint me.
Vicki: Oh. My. God.
Vicki: When? What? How? Details, girl!
I shake my head as I see the messages.
Me: I’ll tell you when I’m home. Back tonight.
Vicki: Whaaaat? Not fair.
I don’t respond for a few minutes and when I next check my phone, she’s obviously relented.
Vicki: Okay, okay, it’ll be more fun in person anyway.
That makes me smile, but I’m too distracted by trying to deal with the waves of nausea that have started this morning to continue the conversation.
At first I thought it was just stress and anxiety about what happened last night and everything it might mean - but, surprisingly, I don’t feel all that worried about it. I mostly still feel warm and satisfied. I guess it just hasn’t caught up to me yet - though something obviously has and—
The next moment sends me running to the bathroom and by the time I make it out, I’m groaning and feeling far less happy and satisfied with myself.
Damn it. Dodgy chicken?
I groan. The day I fly home is really not the day I want to be hit by food poisoning. No such luck, though. The next few hours have me in an almost constant rotation and I’m pissed when I have to bail on the sight-seeing that our team had planned for the free Saturday morning we have in New York City.
I send a message to Tina, the team manager.
Me: Hi Tina, I’m really sorry but I don’t think I can meet the team for sight-seeing this morning. I think I ate something dodgy last night. Do you know whether everyone else is okay?
I figure I should give them a heads-up, in case anyone else comes down with something.
A while later, as I’m lying panting on my bed and hoping that now I’m practically dry-heaving, it’ll be the last of the bathroom trips, my cell phone goes off again.
Tina: I’m sorry to hear that, Ava. We hope you feel better soon - everyone here is fine so far. Are you still going to be okay to make the flight this afternoon?
I swallow as I read the message, but there’s only one response in my mind. There’s no way I’m wasting however much Indivest paid for the flight. Besides, I’m sure I’ll be fine. It’s probably settling down now. Some of the nausea seems to be easing at least.
Me: Yes, I’m sure it will be fine. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way to the airport.
Tina: Great, thanks Ava. Hope you feel better.
I smile slightly at the message. I like Tina. Considering everything Vicki has always said about bosses and managers, I was expecting the worst - but she really seems to care. About her work, and about the people working for her. It makes me really hope I can keep working for her a little longer. If that’s really as rare as Vicki makes it sound, I can’t help thinking how lucky I’ve been here. I really don’t want to think about leaving it all behind at the end.
I toss the phone aside with a sigh and lean back into the overly large hotel pillows, letting them almost swallow me as I flick the TV on. At this time my only choice is between trashy daytime shows, but at least it provides a little comforting background noise as I try not to be too sad about not going sight-seeing and spending more time with the team I don’t want to leave.
At least you had amazing sex last night. At least there’s that.
Surprisingly enough, that actually makes me feel better, and I start to relax as the worst of the nausea passes - even if I probably spend more time daydreaming about what happened last night than watching the TV in front of me.
I don’t trust myself with lunch - a decision that’s immediately confirmed when I get to the airport and the smell of food there makes my stomach turn again. The flight home doesn’t help either, but at least it’s manageable enough that I only have to clutch the sick bag I keep by me for the whole journey.
The rest of the team give me sympathetic looks and ask if there’s anything they can do, trying to keep me engaged in conversation about what they did this morning, no doubt as an attempt to distract me. I respond as best I can, but all I really want is for the whole thing to be over.
By the time we’ve landed and driven back to Fresno, I’m totally exhausted and I give up on the idea of heading to Vicki’s. Right now, a fun conversation about sex is the last thing I want. Even really good sex.
Me: Sick as a dog, heading to Mom & Dad’s, sorry.
Vicki: Aww, no. Need anything?
Me: Just rest, I think. Talk soon x
She doesn’t give me a hard time about it - she might be keen for this kind of gossip, but there are still more important things.
I spend the next couple of days unashamedly taking advantage of how lovely Mom and Dad are to me when I’m ill. As soon as I get home I head straight to bed, and as the nausea fades I start hoping it was just a twenty-four hour case of bad chicken or something.
That hope disappears the moment I wake up the next morning, feeling just as bad as the day before. Another couple of hours in between the bathroom and my bed leaves me cursing that last team meal I thought I’d enjoyed so much. I can’t stomach any of the plain food Mom tries to get me to eat for lunch, even though I know I’m feeling weak because of it, but as the day progresses I finally start to feel a little bit better.
I spend the afternoon talking to Mom and Dad - since I’ve been staying at Vicki’s for a shorter commute into work and focusing totally on this project, they haven’t seen me for a while and they’re eager to hear all about my job and the trip to New York City.
By the evening, I’m relieved that the worst of the sickness seems to have passed and I’m determined to head back to Vicki’s.
“Are you sure you’re well enough, sweetie?” Mom asks, looking at me with concern.
I nod firmly. “Y
eah, it was only some bad food in New York, Mom - I think it’s over now. I feel fine.”
Though if I’m honest with myself I’m not sure how much that’s me feeling fine - or how much is me wanting to feel fine. I definitely still feel…strange. Probably just because I haven’t eaten much in the last couple of days. But if the enthusiasm I showed digging into a PB&J sandwich tonight was any indication, I’ll get my strength back soon.
Not that I’m going to admit any of that to Mom.
She frowns. “You don’t look fine, Ava. You’re still slightly pale and there are those bags under your eyes—”
I cut her off with a smile. “There are always bags under my eyes, according to you.”
“It’s because you work too hard, no doubt. All those late nights in New York probably didn’t help either, and—well, I really think you should stay here for another couple of days. Just to make sure.”
I shake my head again. “I need to work tomorrow, Mom. I want to. It’s all going so well, but we’re really in the middle of bringing it all together and I don’t want to miss that. Really, I’m fine.”
And…there’s a certain hotshot CEO who might be back at work tomorrow. I’m not sure that should be a good thing, but…well, I can’t deny the way something in my stomach flutters at the thought. I probably shouldn’t - but I want to see Damien again.
“Well…if you’re sure. It’s not like I can stop you.” Her mouth twists into a rueful smile and she leans in to give me a hug. “Just make sure you come back here at the first sign you’re still not feeling will.”
“I will.” I promise, feeling a little guilty that I have no intention of doing that at all, but knowing she’ll feel better this way.
I head back to Vicki’s to get settled in for the night before work the next morning - and the concern on her face when she sees me gives me the sinking feeling that Mom wasn’t exaggerating about how I look.
“Ava! Hey - are you okay? You look awful.” She says immediately.
“Yeah. Yeah, I think so. Haven’t been sick since this morning so I think I’m fine now.” I repeat.
“Looks like it really took it out of you, huh?” She continues as she opens the door further, gesturing me inside.
“Yeah. Not the best way to end the trip.” I say with a sigh, settling down on the couch that’s been my home for the duration of this project so far.
Apart from that blissful week in the hotel.
I already know I’m going to miss that place.
“Well, maybe not that…but how about your other end to the trip, huh?” She wriggles her eyebrows at me and I can’t help but laugh.
“Yeah.” I say again, and I can feel the smile spreading across my face, even while I’m still feeling weak.
Seeing it makes her grin, but she sighs as she drops onto the couch beside me.
“I guess we should probably talk about it another time. It seems less sexy when you’ve just been sick all day.”
I laugh, but truthfully I’m a little relieved. I’m not sure I do quite feel up to an interrogation of Vicki’s standard.
“That’s true. Another time then.”
I wrap one arm around her shoulder and we snuggle closer for a moment.
“Sex in the City instead?” She offers and I nod immediately.
“How’ve you been?” I ask as she’s setting it up. “The last week?”
“Bored, mostly.” She huffs. “Figured I should take the time you were gone to do some revision for this exam.”
“How’s that going?”
“It’s going.” Her nose wrinkles, then she jumps up in excitement as the intro music starts playing.
I don’t press her any further, more than content to curl up on the couch with my best friend until I start getting sleepy.
Especially since all of the guys somehow end up looking like Damien - and my mind drifts to thinking about my own sex in the city.
At least you’ll get to see him tomorrow, and then…
Then…
I don’t manage to find an end to that thought before sleep takes me.
Chapter Fifteen
Ava
The moment I wake up the next morning, the nausea is back.
I groan as I head to the bathroom - and not just because of the sickness. I really didn’t want that to happen. I’m supposed to be working. I even text Tina to let her know that I’d be in today.
“You should go home.” Vicki says with concern, as she sits on the side of the bath and holds my hair back from my face.
I give her a quick glance out of the corner of my eye, taking in the crisp, professional dress she’s wearing and groan again.
“You…shouldn’t…be…” I try to get out, in between breaths.
The last thing she needs is vomit all over her nice work clothes.
She tuts. “It’s fine.”
“You need to…go…Vicki. You’ll be—” I’m interrupted by yet another dry-heave, but I continue after a gasp for breath. “—late.”
I don’t even have anything left to throw up anymore, damn it.
I don’t miss the way she glances at her watch, her tongue clicking against her teeth. I don’t often see Vicki in professional mode and in some ways it’s even reassuring. Sometimes I think she doesn’t take her job seriously at all, even though I know she must be pretty good at it.
“I don’t want to leave you here alone, Ava.”
“I’ll be…fine…” I wipe my forehead, kneeling back from the basin of the toilet as the worst of the nausea passes. “Never…eating…chicken again.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “Remind me to hit you up for a list of places you went in NYC so I can avoid them all, huh?”
I give her a weak smile.
“Go.” I say again.
She scowls at me. “Promise me you’ll go home if it doesn’t get better?”
“Promise.” I relent, even though - yet again - I don’t mean it.
If there’s any chance of me being able to work…
“I don’t believe you.” She accuses, far more perceptive than Mom.
“You have to leave anyway.” I point out, taking the paper she’s handing over to me and wiping my mouth.
“Ugh. Fine. I’ll be back tonight. Do what you want, crazy woman, but try to text me that you’re still alive sometime, huh?”
I smile back, finally feeling like I’ve caught my breath. “Yeah, that I’ll do.”
She dashes out the door and I stay there for a few moments, trying to work out if the nausea really has gone or if it’s an illusion, the way it’s seemed to be so many times over the last couple of days.
When I finally think I’ve got it under control, I make my slow way back to the couch - noticing the barf bowl Vicki left out for me there with a smile. It got that name from the party she held when she first moved in here - and went crazy with the freedom. I hunted through all the fancy new things she’d just bought for something that would work and she was horrified the next day, wanting to throw it out…until I managed to convince her we might need it again.
I flop down with a sigh, taking a moment to let my stomach adjust to the movement before texting Tina to let her know I haven’t quite shaken this thing yet. To distract myself, I text Vicki a ‘still alive’ message too, but it doesn’t work very well and I end up closing my eyes in disappointment as I toss the phone back onto the floor, trying not to over-think. I don’t particularly succeed.
If you’re not there, you can’t show them you’re doing a good job. You’ll be under-performing. Not turning up is not the impression you want to give. What if they forget about you? What if they don’t believe you at all, just think you’re making excuses?
I know half of that’s not true but I can’t help thinking it anyway, and I get more and more miserable as the day goes on. The nausea fades again and I almost consider going over to the office - but the way Tina shot down my offer to come in later if I felt better made it obvious that this is just going to be a very unw
anted day off.
It’s not until the afternoon that I get the bright idea of pulling my laptop over to try to do some work remotely. I can tell they’re surprised when they see me come online, but I simply say I’m feeling better and start loading up some of the designs I’ve been working on.
To my relief, I feel even better once I’ve started working - enough that I almost forget I was feeling sick at all.
Vicki finds me lying on the couch like that when she gets in much later and I only notice her standing in the doorway when I hear her breath huffing out deliberately.
“Found a way to get to work anyway, huh?”
I look up at her, smiling automatically.
Yeah, soo much better now. What a relief.
“I started feeling fine as soon as I got to work.” I tell her, half my attention still on the graphics in front of me.
“Why does that not surprise me?” She rolls her eyes, but I can tell she’s relieved. “And here I was rushing home because you hadn’t text me all afternoon.”
That does make me look up and I immediately feel guilty.
“Oh god, I’m sorry, I just—” I look down at my screen again, biting my lip.
She comes to lean against the couch, giving me an amused smile.
“It’s alright, I just figured you were sleeping or something.” She looks around. “Have you eaten anything all day?”
“Umm…” I try to think, and I’m surprised when my stomach gives a pang of hunger in response. “I might have had a few crackers?”
“Avaaaa. This is why you need to go home when you’re ill. You’re rubbish at taking care of yourself.”
“I didn’t know if I could stomach it…” I try muttering.
“Well, d’you want something now?”
“I’d kill for a PB&J sandwich.” I say, looking up with sudden enthusiasm. “I’ll come make one.”
I start swinging my legs off the couch but she pushes them back, rolling her eyes again.
“I’ll make it. Last day of sick treatment - take advantage, girl.”
I grin. “Thanks, Vicks.”
“I’m out tonight though.” She calls back as she heads to the kitchen. “Just came home to make sure you were alright and change.”
