3. Chapter 3
“ N o, I don’t swim!” A hand gripped my forearm, which was damp from exertion.
“Please, please,” I mumbled, fighting out of his grip. “No, I can’t swim, get me out of the water, it’s so much, these—these sheets of water. It’s all over me.”
“OK, Annie, I promise you—” said a strong male voice, and I felt a tug in the water.
“No! No, don’t pull me under. I … please. Please help me,” I cried, writhing around in the dampness, trying to pull myself out. “No, no, no, not swimming, I can’t …”
Suddenly I felt a tickle. In my ear, of all places. “Annie. Annie! ”
I stilled.
I knew that voice. I knew this … this place. Wait, it wasn’t a body of water. I was wet. But I was in my bed. My bed was drenched, and my skin was slick with sweat and who knew what other bodily fluids from being ill. I shifted my head toward the voice.
“Rainn?”
“The one and only.”
“What is happening to me?” As I looked at him, my eyes filled with tears. “Am I … dying?”
His face broke into a smile. His reddish-brown hair was sticking out of his hat, as usual, and he looked tired but still as handsome as ever. “Hell no, as if I’d let that happen. Your fever broke. Obviously. Haven’t you ever been sick before?”
Confusion washed over me, followed by relief and then embarrassment.
I fought the urge to burrow under the pillow.
“Oh. Right.” An awkward silence ensued as I assessed my surroundings, wet sheets and blankets cast aside in every direction and damp spots all over the bed, especially on my pillow. “I probably need a shower, eh?”
“I mean, maybe? Sure?” He made a face, the I’m-a-guy-don’t-ask-me face.
I glanced at the time on the clock. 1:30 pm. More time lost to illness. But as soon as the events of last night came rushing back, I began to wish I were still passed out. I wasn’t ready to face, well, anything. Least of all—
“Annie, uh, do you want to talk about the fever dreams?” he asked, scratching his head. “I mean, you don’t have to, but they were kind of intense. And not just this one, but this morning and … last night.”
I winced. What I could remember of this dream had something to do with my fear of swimming, not something I liked to admit to anyone. Not even my roommates. And who knew what other fever dreams I’d had but couldn’t remember? “Um, can we just, uh, do that some other time?”
Maybe never?
Rainn visibly relaxed, his shoulders down as he leaned back a bit.
“Yeah, sure.” He crossed his legs on the bed.
“So what do you want to do today? I’ve got the whole day free, so I can keep you company or go buy you soup or whatever you want.
Sorry we ditched you yesterday for the gym.
We both felt kinda bad after that. But then we figured you’d had a better time with Brandon than your lame old roommates anyway. ”
I tried to smile despite the queasy feeling rising within me.
Brandon .
Had he tried to call or text me?
Did I want him to?
I knew, I just knew , deep down, that there was a slight chance Viviana wasn’t making up everything. Wasn’t imagining everything. I knew it was possible. But I couldn’t face that, even the possibility of that, last night. Or now.
“Did—did he stop by? Brandon, I mean?” I asked, trying to sound casual while tracing a pattern on the only dry part of the pillowcase.
“Not that I know of—hey, you look like you’re going to hurl. Can I get you a bucket, or, like, some salted crackers or something to munch on? Pepto?”
The room did seem a little spinny, now that I considered it. I shook my head, choosing instead to just lay back down on the bed. “I’ll be fine. You can check on me later.”
“Annie, are you OK? Are you sure you don’t need anything?
” His own forehead was wrinkled in concern as he put his hand on my face, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
I rolled over, pulling some nearby blankets over me.
They felt clammy, just like I did, but they would do.
I just needed a barrier between me and the outside world.