Chapter Twenty-Four
Twenty-Four
Josie
Even though I’ve felt sick for the past half hour—waves of nausea rolling through me—somehow I make it home without puking in Axe’s fancy sports car.
Honestly, it’s a miracle. I kept my window down and pretended I was all about the breeze, but really I was just trying to keep my lunch where it belonged.
Axe tried to chat the whole ride through Shelton’s winding streets—apparently, Honor told him about me running a booth at the Toygasm sex toy expo coming up: Are you looking forward to it? Tell me more about your nonna. What do you think of Theo?
I gave him micro answers (yes / she’s my best person / cool) without letting on that my stomach was twisting in agony. I’d rather him think I’m rude than sick.
As soon as I’m through my apartment door, I drop my bag and run to the bathroom.
I barely make it in time. My body heaves, rejecting and ejecting everything inside.
I grip the cool porcelain, my face drenched in sweat, my body trembling.
My mind races through what I ate today to see what might have caused this reaction—is this an allergy?
Just thinking about food makes me gag. Lunch was the usual, so probably not the culprit: my mom’s homemade iced tea and leftover veggie lasagna she dropped off at the store as some kind of peace offering, Honor’s fudge brownies…and a few too many chocolate-covered pretzels at SynthoTech.
I tell myself it’s the stomach flu even though it feels so much worse.
As weird as that dude at the store was, it’s a real leap to assume the cut on my finger has anything to do with it, though for some reason, that’s where my mind keeps going.
I remember the way he watched me lick off my blood, and it leaves me with the faint prickle of unease that just won’t go away. Nah, Nonna just has me freaked out.
When I first started feeling off at SynthoTech, I brushed it off, thinking it would pass. Now, as I lean against the bathroom wall, I can’t ignore the growing fear. What if I’m too sick to go to the farmers market? Would Axe fire me?
I’ve been looking forward to our second “date.” Weirdly enough, I’m actually enjoying this new job.
I want to get to know Axe as much as he and his developers want to get to know me.
I’ve got a million random questions I’d love to throw at him and hope for more than a one-word answer: What was it like running through the misty moors of Scotland as a kid?
Did he dream of something beyond his picture-perfect island?
Has he ever taken a risk so wild it made his heart race, like jumping off a cliff into the sea?
Gotten swept up in an adventure that spiraled out of control with unexpected consequences?
Has he ever been sick enough that he thought he might die?
I crawl into bed, my eyes locked on the unforgiving numbers of my alarm clock.
My 9:00 a.m. date with Axe looms ahead, and every passing minute torches my chances of getting even a shred of sleep.
By the time the sun rises, I’ve spent the night crouched over the toilet, my body racked with dry heaves.
Exhaustion settles into my achy bones, but I’ve spent too much of my life sick in bed. No way am I flaking on Axe.
Dragging myself to my dresser, I catch sight of my tarot deck. I close my eyes and pull: Strength. A lion and a woman face each other, exuding controlled yin-yang balance. I take a deep breath.
You can do it, Josie. Today you need JosieFightsOn energy big-time.
I take a long, hot shower, and afterward look at my haggard face in the mirror. I cover up my dark under-eye circles with concealer.
I chew three more Pepto-Bismol tablets. Then a fourth. I shake out my curls.
I let the cards give me strength, just like always.