The Fever
COOPER
I was tired. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt such heavy, relentless exhaustion.
It dragged at my limbs, pulling me under.
Maybe it was a sugar crash—there had been a whole lot of pancakes on that plate—or maybe I was just tired because being this close to Jon was a constant reminder of what happened between us and what I’d ever meant to him.
A brat, and nothing more.
I should’ve known better than to think he’d ever want all of me. He basically pushed me away that night at the party. Like the way my body reacted tainted him too.
The shame of it was burned into me.
The moment Jon started the engine, I drifted off, sinking into a heavy darkness.
His presence was the last thing I registered.
When I woke up, panic flared until something warm and soothing settled over me.
A familiar smell wrapped itself around me, making me hum in pleasure until I realized I was literally soothing myself with Jon’s body odor.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” I snapped, my skin oversensitive against the fabric of my seat.
“I tried. You hissed at me.” Jon sounded amused.
I glared at him. “I did not.”
“You’re an unreliable witness, considering you were asleep.”
My body felt feverish—sensitive and achy in ways I didn’t understand. Was I coming down with the flu?
“Can we stop soon? I’m hungry,” I whined.
“Grab a snack. We’ll find a motel, have some takeout, call it a night.”
“Okay,” I mumbled, surprising us both with how meek I sounded. It had to be the flu. I’d never heard of a virus that caused politeness, but there was a first time for everything.
I grabbed a chocolate bar.
“Have you changed your shampoo?” Jon asked.
“No,” I said, munching the chocolate. “Same shampoo and soap as always.”
“Really?” Jon asked, sounding so doubtful I laughed.
“Yeah.”
He glanced at me, still dubious.
“Could you google a good motel nearby?” he asked.
“No, but I can check my list,” I said, scrolling through my phone.
I tried to concentrate on giving him instructions, but whatever was affecting me was getting stronger.
It was a strange, fluttering tension spreading outward like it didn’t know where in my body to settle.
Not only that, there was a tight pressure low in my pelvis, a sort of dull ache that made it hard to sit still.
I shifted, and the movement sent a fresh spike of heat straight up my spine.
“I can’t wait to stretch my legs,” Jon muttered, trying to sit more comfortably.
The movement sent another wave of his scent crashing over me, and I wanted to breathe him in until there was nothing left of me that didn’t smell like him.
I wanted to burrow into his neck and curl into his lap until the world stopped being weird.
It was like my body had already decided that was where I belonged, and it tried every possible trick to get there.
Back into Jon’s lap.
A horrified gasp escaped me when my brain caught up with the shenanigans of my body.
“What’s wrong?” Jon asked immediately.
“Nothing,” I said quickly. “Just thought I saw a fox. Outside. Chasing a rabbit.”
“Sure.”
The smell was getting impossible to ignore, and so was the throbbing pressure. A small, helpless whimper slipped out. I slapped a hand over my mouth, but it was too late. Jon pulled the car onto the shoulder, his expression darkening with concern.
“You’re acting weird.”
“You’re acting weird.”
“You keep making noises.”
“Well excuse me for existing.”
Before I could argue further, he reached over and pressed his warm palm to my forehead. At first, his touch felt electric, but it was quickly followed by relief. I was leaning into his hand before I even realized it, chasing the contact. Panicked by the strong reaction, I jerked my head back.
“What are you doing?”
Jon blinked, caught off guard. “Checking if you have a fever.”
“Well, I don’t,” I said sharply, crossing my arms.
“Right. Sorry I touched your forehead.”
He grabbed his lighter and a pack of cigarettes, then got out of the car. I followed. He gave me a wary look.
“Don’t even think about it.”
“Like I want to poison my lungs. You should quit,” I informed him.
“You care about my lungs?” Jon asked, blowing smoke in my direction.
“A valid point. Please continue.”
He smirked. “Remember when you tried to impress me by pretending you were a regular smoker? You used an entire box of matches trying to light one, and when you finally managed, you coughed so hard you turned bright red.”
I bristled. “I wasn’t trying to impress you, egomaniac. I was just demonstrating how stupid you looked.”
“Well, at least you succeeded in looking stupid.”
I climbed back into the car in a huff, Jon following soon after. I pulled a cassette out of the glove compartment.
“Look. Modern Talking,” I said, brightening. “Good stuff.”
A moment later, “You’re My Heart, You’re My Soul” filled the car, followed by “Brother Louie.”
Jon groaned. “What other cassettes are there?”
“This is my—”
“Your trip, yes, you’ve mentioned. But in case you haven’t noticed, I’m here too, and I don’t like Modern Talking.”
“What about old-fashioned yapping?” I asked, making Jon snort. I smiled until I remembered I hated him.
“This smell is driving me insane,” I muttered. Before I could think better of it, I leaned into Jon’s personal space and drew a deep, shaky breath at the crook of his neck.
Fuck.
The effect was immediate and dizzying. I swallowed a moan.
His hands tightened on the wheel, knuckles whitening.
“Tell me you didn’t just sniff me. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I was checking if you had a fever,” I lied, feeling out of breath.
“By sniffing my neck?”
“Maybe it’s not the most traditional way, but it’s still valid.”
Jon opened his mouth to argue, but my stomach let out a loud, pathetic growl.
“Jon,” I said, and the name came out as a needy plea. “Jon, I’m so hungry.”
“Five minutes,” he said. The urge to lean against him came back, pulling at me like a physical need, but I managed to stay where I was. The pressure in my body didn’t ease. If anything, it deepened, coiling low and tight. It was exhausting, like my body had turned against me. Everything felt off.
I yawned.
“I’m tired again,” I murmured, my eyes fluttering shut. I fought to keep them open.
“Almost there,” Jon said. “I’ll get you food.”
His words made me feel safe.
Then his hand landed on my thigh, giving me a slow, reassuring squeeze. The contact, combined with his words, was everything. I felt like my body finally stopped fighting.
Jon seemed to realize what he was doing and pulled back hastily, exhaling through his nose.
“You’ll be able to sleep in no time.”
“Thank you, Jon,” I whispered, the world turning fuzzy at the edges. Before I dozed off, one thought rose above the others—Jon would never let anything happen to me.