Chapter 34
I didn’t speak to Nate the rest of the afternoon as we gathered our group and took the boat ride back to the resort. It felt almost as if he was avoiding me. His distant behavior didn’t make sense, especially since we had a good conversation in the water. But despite everything I told myself, insecurities from my past flared up. Was I too controlling during the side tour? Did I boss him around too much? Did my personality come across as too strong? It’s frightening how much my old ghosts affect me, especially since Isaac isn’t on my mind or radar anymore. But what’s even more frightening is how much I’m beginning to care about what Nate thinks of me.
As we walk to our villa, I decide to ask him what’s wrong. “Is everything okay?”
Nate’s head is down, keeping his focus on the sidewalk. “Yeah.”
“You seem kind of… withdrawn .”
“I don’t know. There’s a lot on my mind.” His head lifts, but he still avoids my gaze. “Plus, I feel weird. Maybe the fried chicken from lunch isn’t sitting well.”
“Oh.” I’m surprised by the amount of anxiety escaping with my breath. Nate is sick, not annoyed with me.
“Do you care if I have the shower first?” he asks as he opens the door to our room. “Maybe if I get cleaned up, I’ll feel a little better.”
“Yeah, of course. Let me set my stuff down, and I’ll go to give you some privacy.” I switch my sandals, get a fresh towel, and then announce my departure. “I’m leaving.”
He grunts, and I debate asking him if he needs anything. Privacy is probably the only thing he wants right now.
* * *
I lie on a padded lounge chair by the main pool, feeling the afternoon sun warm my skin. I’ve checked my DMs all day, but there hasn’t been anything new from Mr. International. Holding my phone out, I snap a picture of my painted toes with the pool and lush greenery in the background and send it to him again with the caption, Currently .
After a quick power nap, I decide it’s probably safe to return to the room. As I pass the hotel gift shop, I pause. What would Nate do? Whenever he thought I might not feel well due to cramps, he brought me Midol. If he really is sick, I’m sure he’d appreciate some medicine. It’s the least I can do—the olive branch I should’ve extended long ago.
When I get back to the villa with every over-the-counter medicine the hotel gift shop had, I hear Nate retching in the bathroom.
“Nate?” I say, letting him know I’m here. He grunts and then goes back to throwing up. Through the opening in the wall, his hunched body leans over the toilet.
I open the minibar refrigerator, take out a cold can of Sprite, and set it on the nightstand with one of the off-brand Zofran pills I just bought. After a few rounds of vomiting, the sink turns on, and he begins brushing his teeth.
“Forget you saw any of that,” he says as he comes around the corner.
He’s the hottest food-poisoning patient I’ve ever seen. Like a certified psycho, I take a second to check Nate out. He’s shirtless with nothing but cotton shorts on and mussed hair, as if he didn’t have the energy to style it when he got out of the shower. But there’s something fundamentally wrong with checking someone out when they're this vulnerable, so I rein in my eyes and jump into nurse mode.
He falls onto the bed with a thump. “Kill me now.”
“Here.” I hold the Sprite and the medicine out in front of him. “Take this.”
He squints at the little white pill in my palm. “What is it?”
“I got it at the gift shop. It’s some kind of Zofran.”
A soft smile dots his lips. “You got me medicine?”
“You’d do the same for me.” He has done the same for me.
His hand reaches up and caresses my wrist. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.” I think this is the sweet version of Nate his mom and aunts were talking about.
I like him like this.
I could definitely get used to that mushy smile of his.