Chapter 40 - Out of Control #3
I looked at Adrian.
Three dots appeared.
I rolled my eyes.
Then:
I stared at that for a second.
Her answer came immediately.
I absolutely wanted to know.
But before I could ask, another message appeared.
I stared at my phone.
I covered my mouth so I wouldn't laugh.
From the couch-
"What?"
I looked up.
Adrian's eyes were open.
"Nothing."
"You're laughing."
"No."
"You are."
"Maya."
That apparently explained everything.
His eyes closed again.
A second later-
"What did she do?"
"I don't know."
"That seems dangerous."
"It probably is."
I laughed.
Actually laughed.
His mouth moved.
Barely.
But I saw it.
And something inside my chest loosened.
Just a little.
By six, his temperature was 102.6.
Still too high.
But lower.
He'd eaten a little more.
Drunk more water.
Complained more.
All encouraging signs.
I stood in the kitchen wondering what I could make him eat later when I realized something.
It was six.
I had been here for most of the day.
I looked toward the windows.
The sky beyond the glass was already beginning to change.
Then toward Adrian.
He was awake now, lying on the couch with the blanket pulled over him, staring at absolutely nothing.
"You should go home."
I leaned against the counter.
"You've said that approximately eleven times."
"Twelve."
"You counted?"
"I had nothing else to do."
"That's sad."
"Go home."
"No."
His eyes moved to me.
"Angelica."
"You still have a fever."
"I can have a fever without supervision."
"You've demonstrated that. Poorly."
"I'll be fine."
"Probably."
"Then go."
I looked at him.
He looked back.
I could.
That was the strange part.
He wasn't collapsing anymore.
His fever had come down a little.
He'd eaten.
He had water.
Medicine.
A phone.
An entire luxury penthouse in which to be miserable.
There was no practical reason I needed to stay every second.
I could go home.
Come back tomorrow morning.
Except-
"What if it goes back up?"
"I'll take medicine."
"You didn't even know when you took it last time."
"I'll write it down."
"What if you get dizzy again?"
"I'll sit."
"What if you need something?"
"I'll get it."
"You couldn't answer your door this morning."
"I eventually answered it."
"After I nearly broke it down."
"You were not going to break down my door."
"You don't know that."
His eyes stayed on me.
I crossed my arms.
He sighed.
"You're impossible."
"That sounds familiar."
Silence settled between us.
Then Adrian looked away.
I thought that was the end of it.
Until he said, quieter-
"You don't have anything here."
I frowned.
"What?"
"If you stay."
Something in my chest shifted.
He was still looking away.
"You don't have clothes. Anything."
Oh.
He wasn't telling me to leave anymore.
Not exactly.
He was pointing out a logistical problem.
Which, with Adrian, was practically an invitation.
"I can go home and get some things."
His eyes came back to me.
Immediately.
I noticed.
He noticed that I noticed.
Neither of us said anything about it.
"I'll be back," I added.
A beat.
Then he nodded.
"Okay."
Just that.
Okay.
I picked up my bag.
"Do not get up while I'm gone."
He stared at me.
"I'm serious."
"I need a bathroom occasionally."
"You know what I mean."
"Yes."
"Water is there."
"I see it."
"Your phone is there."
"Yes."
"If your fever goes back up-"
"Angelica."
"What?"
"Go."
I narrowed my eyes.
"You're very rude for someone I'm voluntarily keeping alive."
"I'm grateful."
I stopped.
He said it so simply that for a second I didn't know what to do with it.
No sarcasm.
No dry little smile.
Just-
I'm grateful.
I looked at him.
His eyes were already closing again.
"Yeah," I said softly.
Then, because apparently sincerity had a strict three-second limit between us-
"Try not to die while I'm gone. It would be extremely inconvenient."
His eyes stayed closed.
"I'll schedule it for later."
"Thank you."
I headed toward the door.
My hand was already on it when his voice came from behind me.
"Angelica."
I turned.
His eyes were open again.
Not completely.
Just enough to find me across the room.
"What?"
A pause.
Then-
"Come back."
I stared at him.
Not bring this.
Not I need something.
Not if you want.
Just-
Come back.
My fingers tightened slightly around the door handle.
"I said I would."
His eyes stayed on me another second.
Then closed.
I opened the door.
And for the first time all day, I left Adrian alone.
Only because I was coming back.
When I came back, Adrian was awake.
He was still on the couch, exactly where I'd left him.
But his eyes were open.
And they went straight to me the second I stepped inside.
"You're awake."
"You were gone too long."
I stopped.
"Excuse me?"
"You said you'd come back."
"I did come back."
His eyes moved briefly toward the clock.
Then back to me.
Oh.
He'd been waiting.
I looked at the time.
I'd been gone almost two hours.
Not that I'd counted.
Apparently Adrian had.
"I live far away," I said. "I had to drive home, shower, change, pack clothes, get my toiletries, and drive all the way back."
"It took too long."
I stared at him.
He stared back.
Sick.
Pale.
Completely serious.
Something warm and deeply inconvenient moved through my chest.
"Were you worried I wasn't coming back?"
"No."
"Too fast."
I smiled.
His eyes narrowed.
"Don't."
"I didn't say anything."
"Your face did."
I put my bag down.
"Well, I'm back."
Something in his expression settled.
Just slightly.
"I see that."
I walked toward the couch.
"Did you miss me?"
The words left my mouth before I could stop them.
I paused.
Shit.
I hadn't meant to ask that.
Not really.
I'd meant to tease him.
Except somewhere between thinking it and saying it, the question had come out a little too real.
Adrian went still too.
He didn't answer.
For one second.
Then two.
His eyes stayed on mine.
And suddenly I wished I'd kept my mouth shut.
"No."
I stared at him.
That had taken way too long.
"Also too slow."
His eyes narrowed.
"Angelica."
"Adrian."
I put my hand against his forehead.
Still warm.
But not frighteningly so.
I exhaled.
For the next few hours, things were almost boring.
Which I appreciated.
I made him eat again.
He complained.
I made him drink water.
He complained.
I checked his temperature.
He complained about that too.
At nine-thirty, it was 102.4.
Better.
"You see?" Adrian said from the couch. "I'm recovering."
"You've gone from severely annoying and sick to severely annoying and slightly less sick."
"Progress."
"Don't get excited."
I gave him another glass of water.
He took it himself this time.
That made me feel better.
By ten-thirty, he was asleep again.
I changed into pajamas in the guest room, washed my face, tied my hair back, and came out carrying my phone.
The couch was enormous.
Adrian occupied approximately one-third of it.
I looked toward the guest hallway.
Then back at him.
I wasn't tired anyway.
At least that was what I told myself.
I sat in one of the chairs near the couch and opened my phone.
I'd stay there for a little while.
Just until I knew his fever wasn't going back up.
At twelve-forty-three, I woke up.
For several seconds, I didn't know why.
Then I heard Adrian breathe.
Something was wrong.
I sat upright.
"Adrian?"
No answer.
I was beside him in seconds.
His face looked different.
Flushed now instead of pale.
His hair was damp around his forehead.
I touched him.
And my stomach dropped.
He was burning.
"No, no, no."
I grabbed the thermometer.
Waited.
Looked.
103.8.
Shit.
"Adrian."
His eyes opened slowly.
Not properly.
Just enough for me to see how unfocused they were.
"Hey."
He blinked.
"Angelica?"
"Yeah."
His eyes closed again.
"I'm here."
I checked the time, checked when he'd last taken medicine, then gave him the next dose when it was safe.
He swallowed it with difficulty.
I made him drink more water.
Then I went into the kitchen, soaked a clean cloth with cool water, wrung it out, and came back.
Adrian flinched when I laid it across his forehead.
"Cold."
"I know."
"Take it off."
"No."
"Angelica."
"You're almost at 104."
"Still cold."
His body shivered beneath the light blanket.
I pulled it properly over him.
"Better?"
"No."
"I know."
Another shiver ran through him.
Then another.
I sat on the edge of the couch.
"Hey."
His eyes stayed closed.
I changed the cloth when it warmed.
Then again.
And again.
At some point I brought a basin of cool water closer so I wouldn't have to keep walking to the kitchen.
I wiped his forehead.
His temples.
The back of his neck.
Ran the damp cloth carefully through his hair and over his scalp, trying to cool him without soaking him.
He barely reacted anymore.
That scared me.
"Adrian?"
A quiet sound.
"Open your eyes."
He did.
Slowly.
"There you are."
He looked at me without really focusing.
"You're okay."
I wasn't sure whether I was telling him or myself.
His eyes closed again.
I changed the cloth.
One-thirty.
103.7.
Two-ten.
103.5.
Two-forty.
103.6.
I stopped trusting every tiny change in the number.
I just stayed.
Sometimes he slept.
Sometimes he drifted somewhere between sleeping and waking.
Sometimes he opened his eyes just long enough to make sure I was still there.
And every time he did, I was.
Sometime after three, the shivering started again.
Harder.
His hand moved beneath the blanket.
I thought he was trying to adjust it.
Then his fingers found mine.
I froze.
He didn't look at me.
I wasn't even sure he knew what he was doing.
His fingers just closed around my hand.
Weakly at first.
Then tighter when another shiver moved through him.
I looked down.
Adrian was holding my hand.
Not the deliberate touch from the office.
Not fingers lingering over mine.
Not dancing.
Not Halloween.