My Delivery Boy

12 / Wishful Thinking

© an affiniteas 2011-2012 ink on Wattpad

 12 / Wishful Thinking

Not even thinking things through, I was driving Bryce's expensive Ferrari as he was passed out sick.

Following the GPS system's directions, I scolded myself, "Maisie Lockhart, you are definitely being stupid right now."

After making the last right turn, I found myself heading towards a top-notch condominium tower. Shocked, I was expecting a huge mansion of some sort. Supporting Bryce with his arm over my shoulder, I stumbled clumsily while we made our way in. The lobby of the tower was clean and modern, having a monochromatic color palette.

The young and short receptionist noticed me carrying their resident in and quickly ran towards me. Her brown eyes widened as she gasped.

"Is Mr. Valentino alright?"

I explained, "He's sick... Can you call his family?"

Damn, I should have done that in the first place.

The receptionist assisted me to his condo and told me that he lives here by himself. This was home? Bryce didn't live with family. 

Opening the door for me, I was in awe of the loft style home. It looked exactly like something from a magazine from the open space to the touch of factory brick. Everything looked so urban. Before the receptionist left, I reminded her to call his family.

I wasn't a doctor, but I knew the basics of lowering a fever.

Placing Bryce onto his black leather L-shaped sectional, I quickly took off his blazer for him to breathe better. This wasn't a tour, so I rapidly tried to find some medicine. I checked the medicine cabinet after searching for the bathroom and grabbed everything that would be helpful. 

Pacing to his kitchen, this was like Mom's dream — all black appliances and steel counter tops. I managed to find a cloth I could use to cool Bryce down with and placed some ice into a glass bowl. It was weird enough I was going through Bryce's things, but his fever needed to go down somehow.

Walking back to Bryce, I placed my hand on his forehead, and he was still burning up. The delivery boy was in a deep sleep, but his face still expressed pain. Wrapping the ice in the cloth, I immediately placed it over his forehead. Following what Mom usually did when I was sick, I proceeded with giving him cough syrup and fever reducer. As I got up, I looked around for a blanket to place over him. 

Tapping my chin, I wondered, "If I was a spare blanket, where would I be?"

Searching through the oak wood closets by the hallway, I luckily found a comfy white blanket. 

Sorry for going through your stuff, Bryce. 

I ran back and made sure he was kept warm. Once I finished, I checked his temperature, and it was still high. Trying to calm down, I reasoned with myself that the medicine probably hasn't kicked in.

Throughout the time I waited, I wondered where his parents were. I was sure that I reminded the receptionist many times to call them. Gazing sadly at the sleeping Bryce, he had to have gotten sick because he was overworked. I paced back and forth, hoping I didn't kill the Valentino.

As time passed, I gradually noticed there wasn't any sweat visible anymore, and it appeared like Bryce was breathing more evenly. Grabbing the thermometer, I checked his temperature again, and it was hitting normal. Letting out a relieved smile, his fever was going down. 

Losing track of time, I searched for my phone until I realized I left my bag in Bryce's car. That was just outstanding. Finding the nearest clock, it has been four hours, and no sign of his parents either. Walking towards his kitchen, I knew that if someone lived in a luxurious condo, the telephone line would connect to the front desk.