by A. E. Murphy
Could you please send it back at some point? If I’m to live without you I’m going to need it.
“Gwen?”
“Jesus!” I squeal and drop the glass in the sink, it doesn’t break but it does splash water onto my front.
He chuckles and hands me a few pieces of kitchen roll, “You’re acting odd tonight.”
My mouth drops open, is he serious? “Yes… well…” I look at his sparkling eyes and relaxed stance and sigh. I’m not going to drag it up tonight. The proposal can be addressed another night. “I’m just tired.”
“It has been a long night, go to bed,” he tilts his head to the side and assesses me for a moment. “Is there something you want to talk about?”
“No, not at all,” I’m such a terrible liar. “I think I’ll just go to sleep. You should too.”
He smirks, his lips parting slightly in the middle, “Is that an invitation?” I gasp in horror as his hands fly up in surrender. “Kidding. I’m just kidding around.”
“I know,” I lie and push Caleb from my mind. His face keeps flashing before my eyes and as much as I love seeing him, he shouldn’t be witnessing this conversation.
I’m going nuts. It’s official.
“Go to bed,” he steps to the side, giving me space to pass. “Goodnight Gwen.”
“Night,” I murmur in response and waddle as quickly as possible to the stairs and then to my room.
When in bed I touch the necklace resting on my chest and admire the small red jewel at the top left of it. I wrap my hand around it. The one with my engagement ring. One of the only reminders I have that Caleb existed. The gold band lightly touches the flat gold disk and my tears of frustration fall.
I need to distance myself from Nathan, he needs to know that I can’t ever be that to him. I know he thinks he’s being noble or something along those lines, but he doesn’t have to be. Why would he give up a lifetime of happiness to be with someone who will never love him that way?
Starting tomorrow I’ll make it clearer. It’ll be as clear as crystal.
We’re friends and friends only.
Maybe I should leave but I can barely even comprehend the thought of going back to my mum’s. I don’t trust her, this sounds horrible but I genuinely don’t trust her to keep her word and I doubt I’ll be as happy with her as I am here with Nathan.
Plus… I think he needs me.
I think he needs me almost as much as I need him.
******
The next day I don’t get a chance to hint to Nathan about our current relationship status as he left immediately after breakfast. He looked exhausted but determined so I packed him a lunch, straightened his tie and sent him on his way. Then I kicked myself for not keeping myself at a distance.
When he got home he had a quick dinner, almost sleeping at the table. I sent him up to bed immediately, a little worried about him.
It’s now dinner time the next night and he’s still up there. He hasn’t left his room once. I want to go up to see if he’s okay but I daren’t invade his space.
He’s avoided me before but he’s always come down at some point to eat something. Plus he has no reason to avoid me right now.
Maybe he’s just tired. Or maybe he has company.
I’m not sure why but the latter annoys me a little.
Another hour passes and now I’m really worried. I’ve checked the fridge and nothing is missing, his breakfast went untouched, his lunch and his dinner.
Decision made.
I’m going up there.
Why am I so scared? It’s like that point in a scary movie when they’re facing the attic, knowing they have to go up there but really not wanting to. If that was me I’d probably poop a little.
I stand at the door at the far end of the long hall that leads to Nathan’s space. My hand trembles as I grip the handle, my body tensing as if ready for an alarm to start blaring. It opens without issue or dramatics.
Phew. No ninjas then.
“Nathan?” I call out and flick on the light, showing a steep and narrow staircase, carpeted in soft deep blue. The walls match. “Nathan?” I call louder and with one hand on the railing I ascend. “Hello?”
Nothing.
Shit.
When I reach the top I see three doors, one of them is open showing the inside of a closet, full of old boxes. I’m assuming they’re files so I leave that and play eeny-meeny between the other two.
“Nathan?” I knock on door number one and then door number two. No response. Darn.
Door number one opens without sound, I push it only six inches or so and peek into the room, it’s dark and large but I can make out a huge four poster bed. There’s also a large lump in the middle.
I open the door further and almost gag at the scent of bleach. You never get used to it, no matter who says you do, they’re lying.
Wow, it’s freakishly tidy in here.
“Nathan?” I say, staring at the unmoving body shape on the bed hidden under deep blue blankets. My heart starts hammering. This isn’t happening again.
Caleb was a one off. Nobody would be this unlucky.
But what if it’s hereditary?
My nose starts to tingle as tears pool in my eyes, feelings so fresh come back to memory. I almost don’t go to Nathan but I can’t leave him.
I silently pad towards him, sniffing the air for any sign of that sickly sweet smell that seemed to suffocate me when I woke up next to Caleb. The bleach is too prominent, there’s no room for another scent.
“Nathan?” I almost sob but I hold it back and reach for the top of the blanket with a shaking hand. Imagining myself puling it back, all I can see is a lifeless form. I’m so scared. I don’t want to do this. “Nathan!”
I wrap my fingers around the edge of the blanket and like a plaster, I rip it back over his head and to his naked shoulders.
Oh thank god. I’ve never felt such relief before.
He’s lying on his stomach, the side of his face squished into the mattress, his lips partly open but glistening with recent moisture from his tongue and quivering with each breath. One of his hands grips the mattress above his tousled locks that seem to have no clear direction in mind.
“Nathan,” I repeat and gently place my hand on the back of his shoulder. He lets out a low moan and burrows into the bed further, sniffing a not too pleasant sniff through his nose. My hand jolts back from his hot and clammy skin, my body does the same.
The last time this happened… no I can’t go back there. I just need to… shit.
“Nathan?” I roll the blanket further down his back and sit on the side of the bed.
He opens the only eye available and tries to lift his head. “Gwen?”
“I’ve been worried, you’re burning up.” I say this quietly and cautiously, hoping he doesn’t get angry for my being here. “What’s wrong?”
He coughs, it sounds like it rattles in his chest on its way up. “Flu.”
“You promise?” I brush the hair away from his sweaty forehead. “Swear it.”
He rolls onto his side, moaning pitifully, “I swear.”
“Okay, I’m going to get medicine.”
“Kay,” he mumbles and closes his eyes once more.
I don’t waste time, I reach the kitchen as fast as my legs can carry me and start rummaging through the medicine box. I find the usual pain killers and nasal sprays so I round those up with a bottle of lukewarm water. My hands tremble the entire time I’m rushing around.
Honestly… I’m terrified.
Who can blame me?
He’s still in the same position when I get back upstairs, curled up on his side, snivelling through his blocked nose.
“Hey,” I say softly and switch on the lamp by his bed. He moans loudly and buries his head under his quilt. “Baby.”
“What do you want?”
“I’ve got you medicine and water and some of those weird cracker things that you like.”
“Not hungry,” he grumbles, soundin
g childlike and actually kind of cute.
“You can’t take painkillers on an empty stomach,” I say this firmly, letting him know there’s no room for argument. I’m not taking any chances. “Please.”
“Ugh,” he says and sits up slowly. I fluff his pillows behind him and hand him a packet of tissues.
“You shouldn’t be near me, you’ll get ill,” he says, his eyes heavy and hooded. Dark rings beneath them making him look as ill as he probably feels. “The baby.”
I shake my head, “I had a flu shot a few weeks ago. They give them out when you’re pregnant like leaflets.” I hand him the packet of crackers and hold a napkin under his chin whilst he eats to catch the crumbs.
“I don’t want to eat anymore,” he states after having only two bites. “My throat hurts.”
“Stop being such a guy,” I smile softly and move the crackers back to the tray. “Here,” I pop two pills into his hand, almost sighing when I see the gloves. He doesn’t even take them off to sleep. That’s just weird.
After watching him sip them down he lies back down and tries to pull the blanket over his head. “Go back downstairs.”
“One more thing,” I wave the long and thin digital thermometer at him with a smirk.
He blanches, “Not a fucking chance.”
Snort, “Relax, it’s for under your arm.”
“That’s the baby thermometer.”
“I’m sure he won’t mind,” I go to touch his arm, he flinches away. Right, the hand thing. But he didn’t flinch away when I brushed his hair from his forehead. How strange. I somehow manage to wriggle it into the crease where his arm is pressed to his chest. After a few moments it beeps frequently.
Forty one…. FORTY ONE!
“Where are you going?” Nathan calls as I grab the tray and rush from the room.
I have to bring his fever down. This is all too familiar, all too close to home.
“What now?” Nathan sighs, his N sounding more like a D. “Can’t you just leave me alone?”
“Are you naked?” I ask and pull the blanket down his back.
“Why? Do you want me to be?” He attempts to smile but it looks more like a grimace.
“Shut up,” I place two thick and clean towels onto the bed beside him, he watches me through a small gap between his lids. He doesn’t look impressed, only irritated. I really don’t care. “Lie on here, on your back.”
“Why?”
“Now, or I’ll move you and you look heavy. Not a good idea for me.”
His sluggish limbs shuffle him onto the towel, I’m glad to see he’s doing as he’s told. His eyes hold mine as I grab a folded damp flannel and place it on his forehead, being careful to not touch his skin with my hands. “How are you feeling?”
“Worse than I look,” he cringes as I lay another damp flannel over his neck. “Why are you doing this?”
“You don’t look that bad,” I ignore his question and stare at his skin as it instantly tightens, tiny goose bumps form along the surface.
“Are you done yet?”
My head swings back and forth. Nope. I’ll never be done. Not until his fever has gone and I’m satisfied that his heart is going to continue beating. “Go to sleep.”
“Leave my room and I will.”
Ignorance is bliss. Well… it is at this point.
“I told you to leave.”
“No.”
His brow quirks, making it vanish under the flannel, “No? This is my room.”
“Go to sleep, Nathan,” I whisper and remove the flannels from him after ten more minutes.
He rolls off the towels and pulls the blanket back up and over his head, my entire body is shaking. My gut is screaming at me. Maybe I should take him to the hospital. Just in case.
“You’re staring,” he lies flat on his back. “It’s distracting.”
Eye roll. “You’re poorly, just shut your eyes.” Or not, maybe I can keep him awake. That would be selfish though.
“Stop staring.”
I’m making sure you’re still breathing.
“Okay, sorry,” I mutter and fluff up the pillows where the towels were moments before. I lean back against them, cringing at the heat coming from him. He’s ill. That’s for sure. “Maybe I should call a doctor?”
He doesn’t respond. Why isn’t he responding?
Okay, I can hear him breathing. He’s sleeping that’s all.
My twisted mind is relieved when he starts shivering after twenty minutes or so. It’s a sign he’s okay. Sick as a dog but still alive. That’s good.
I should leave, why am I sat here? I just can’t bring myself to leave.
Just another half an hour, I’m overreacting, he’ll be fine.
His short breath becomes slow and steady after forty minutes. I relax minutely until I hear him take a shuddering one. What is wrong with me? He’s fine!
But just in case he isn’t, I should check his pulse.
My two fingers almost sizzle against his skin, that’s how warm he is. The feel of his artery pumping against my fingers does little to soothe my inner turmoil.
I should call a doctor.
I’ll do it in the morning.
But what if he’s not here in the morning? I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.
I stare at his peaceful face in the dark and gently move his hair from his brow. His hair is amazingly soft. Not like Caleb’s, his was great but it resembled the feel of knotted silk. With Nathan’s my fingers just slide straight through. He conditions.
I move my hand down to his chest and savour the feel of his heartbeat. I want to hear it. Is that weird? Probably.
He’s too out of it to care.
Shuffling down the bed, I move my hair to my opposite shoulder and place my cheek on his chest. His chest is solid yet soft, with only a light dusting of hair. It’s a nice chest. He doesn’t move and his breathing remains steady so I know I haven’t disturbed him.
Thump, thump, thump, thump.
Blowing out a soft sigh of grief and relief, I curl my legs and rest my arm across his abdomen, my hand fisting near my mouth.
I don’t want to move from this spot. I will in a second.
Just a minute or two.
Chapter Nineteen
So warm. Too warm.
Why’s my back damp?
Hot breath tickles my neck as I blink the sleep from my eyes and scan my surroundings. This isn’t my room.
An arm tightens around my waist and a soft male groan accompanies the movement. The air rushes from my lungs as I realise where I am and what I’m doing. I’m spooning with Nathan.
I’m spooning with Nathan who is roasting hot and covered in a thin layer of sweat. Why doesn’t this gross me out? Maybe because I’m relieved to see that he’s alive.
“Nathan?” I say and try to roll onto my back but his arm holds me even tighter, I feel his nose against my neck and his forehead against my ear. His leg locks between mine, his thigh sliding so high I can feel the heat against a place I shouldn’t. “Nathan?”
“Umm,” he hums against my neck, sending a tremble through my entire body.
“Are you okay?”
His only answer is to run his nose up and down the back of my neck. Fingers that were wrapped around my ribs, trail over the swell of my stomach before flattening directly below it. Gasp. His hand is far too close to my… oh god. He didn’t…
“Gwen,” he mumbles and I feel him grind himself against my arse. My mouth drops open, I’m frozen on the spot. What’s happening? Well, whatever is happening there’s now solid evidence of it pressed against my arse.
“Oh my god,” I mime, not making noise when in reality I should be running and screaming.
I feel him tense behind me and squeeze my eyes shut. It takes everything in me to relax my breathing and my face. "Gwen?” I’m shocked when he doesn’t instantly move his clearly throbbing, well-endowed length from my backside. Instead he moves his arm back to its original spot above my stomach and collapses
back onto the pillow with a groan. “I know you’re awake.”
Oh shit. I still feign sleep.
“I should move away but…” he snuggles in tighter. Gulp. “Your warmth is comforting.” And your warmth is disorienting and scalding.
He lifts up again and leans over me, pressing me deeper into the mattress. His groin still hasn’t left my arse, if anything it’s pressing harder as he reaches for the water bottle on the bedside table.
I gasp when he grinds once, then twice and quickly shift away from him, only to meet a boyish smile I’ve never seen on his face before. “What’s wrong Gwen?”
“You’re a pig,” I comment and kick the blanket off me.
“No morning kiss?” He taps his chin with his finger.
My mouth falls open, “You’re clearly still delirious. Take your medicine.” I throw the boxes at him and gather up the damp and dry towels that I folded and placed on the floor last night.
“I’m only playing,” he starts to cough and falls back onto the bed.
“Where do you keep the bed sheets for this room?”
“In there,” he points to the door behind me, his eyes narrow, “Why?”
“So I can change these and wash them, they’re damp and soaking in your own illness won’t help you get any better.”
“Thank you,” he rolls onto his front and pulls the blanket over his head.
“Aren’t you going to have a warm bath or something?” I tap my foot impatiently and place the towels by the door.
“No.”
“Why?”
“It hasn’t gone to sleep yet,” he mutters so I can barely hear him.
My lips pinch together but it’s not enough, a giggle bubbles up from my chest and spills forth. I rip the blanket from his body, revealing his tight black boxers that fit his frame oh so well.
“It’s cold.”
Ignoring him I set to work stripping the sheet from the blanket. He grumbles to himself and pulls his body into a sitting position on the side of the bed. “I’m going to have a shower.” On shaking legs he stands, his back to me. I take this moment to strip the sheet from the bed, rather than stare at his back.
