Mav finishes about half the food on his plate and then pats his stomach. “Thanks for hanging.”
“Yeah, of course.”
“You’re not as hot as Nanny Laura, but it did the trick.”
“Nanny Laura?”
“She was my favorite. Had these gigantic boobs that were like pillows.” He nuzzles his head to the side like he’s remembering it. “She’d sing to me when I was sick or when I was upset—which was a lot because Dad was always flaking on shit. I think I got more hugs from her in the year or so that she was my nanny than I have from him my entire life. Parents are bullshit.”
I’m quiet. Don’t really know what to say. For all the shitty things that happened growing up, physical contact was never in short supply. Sometimes my mom clung to me all day as if I was the only thing keeping her connected to the planet.
My stomach twists and I push away my plate.
“Sorry, man, didn’t mean to go dark.”
“Nah, it’s fine. I don’t feel so well.” I stand and I break out in a cool sweat, my mouth waters.
“Ah shit,” Mav says right before I take off in a dead run toward the bathroom.
After puking for the better part of three hours, I join Maverick in the living room. I stripped down to my boxers—everything else is wet from sweat.
“God, you weren’t kidding. All my organs feel like they’ve shifted. Is that a thing?”
“No clue.” He nods with his head toward the kitchen. “Ginny brought soup and Jell-O.”
“Ginny was here?”
“Your phone was going off, so I texted her.”
I find my phone on the counter and see that she did text several times about tonight and then to tell me to feel better and let her know if I need anything.
“She wanted me to tell you that she’d be by later to check in.” He shakes his head. “That Ginny, she’s a peach.”
“She’s the best,” I say because even though I’m a little freaked out, I know it’s true.
I text her back to thank her for the food and tell her not to bother coming again until we’re on the mend. The last thing she needs is to catch whatever this is. I feel like I’ve been run over by a bus. I take a seat in the recliner. The cool leather feels nice against my skin. I’m pretty sure I have a fever.
“I need a Ginny.” Maverick sighs and Charli whines.
“I think Charli would take issue with getting kicked out of your bed for a chick.”
We spend the late afternoon and evening watching TV. Just when I think things are taking a turn for the better, one of us gets sick again. We reek. The whole apartment probably does, but I’ve lost the ability to smell it.
Ginny continues to text, but I don’t respond. Nobody needs to be around this. I miss her though. Weird to admit to myself how much I’ve gotten used to having her around. That even though I’m freaked about her loving me, I still want her.
I’ve had girls that I hung out with, not exactly friends but ones that were part of my circle of friends, and girls I’ve hooked up with for a month or two, but I’ve never had one that ticks both those boxes. I’m delirious enough I think about calling her and telling her that, but something tells me I’d fumble up the message. Thanks for letting me do you, and also for being cool enough I want to be with you even when we’re not naked. Let’s keep things like they are. Cool?
Shakespeare, I am not.
As I lie there, alternating sweating and then shivering, I think about her and what I’m going to say when she tells me she loves me. That’s what she wants to talk to me about, right? Is she expecting me to say it back? And if I don’t, what does it really change? Nothing? Everything?
My mom was quick to tell me she loved me, still is. And, yeah, I believe she means it, and even meant it then when she barely knew what day of the week it was, but it always felt like the words I love you came as a substitute for I’m going to do right by you.
Things with Ginny are amazing, and I don’t want this pure and good thing we have to become an excuse to hurt one another when we could do better.
Fuck, I don’t even know if I’m making sense. My head is fuzzy and my stomach aches.
I wake up sometime later that night, stuck to the recliner. Mav must have thrown a blanket over me and gone to bed because he’s not here and I’m tucked in like a child.
The next forty-eight hours is much the same. I wake up Thursday morning finally feeling like I might be able to get up, but my entire body hurts. I’m laying here staring up at the ceiling when I notice Ginny on the couch.
“You’re alive.”
“Barely.”
She sits up. “I tried to text a few times to check on you.”
“My phone died. I wasn’t in much shape to talk anyway.”
“Do you want me to stay with you? I brought some more soup and Jell-O. It’s in the kitchen.” She jabs a thumb in that direction. “Do you want some?”
“You didn’t need to do that. I’m fine. I just want to lie here for a minute before I go to practice.”
“You’re going to practice? Can’t you take another day off?”
“Could, but I’ve played in worse shape. I’ll be fine.” We’ve got Vermont this weekend and I don’t want to miss it.
She smiles and it hits me in the gut. Either that or I’m gonna be sick again.
“Okay, well, I’m going back to my dorm before class. Call me later?”
She looks uncertain and I hate that. Hate it but can’t seem to bring myself to reassure
