When in Rome

Chapter ②②

Chapter ②②

Avoiding Mason has been easy, but that's only because I've spent this past week dry heaving over a toilet. Yeah, I got the flu.

I don't know how, but I blame the weather getting colder and the fact that some kid sneezed on me at homecoming.

After texting Mia that I went home last week I received about a thousand more messages from her before she came over, practically busted my bedroom door down, and screamed, "Adeline Preston, what the hell is going on!?"

But then she saw me, pathetically, curled up on the floor by her feet, so she immediately helped me into my bed, and then made me tell her what happened. However when I was done telling her she didn't entirely believe it, she believed that there had to be more to the story, but I just shook my head knowing what I saw. Then she left promising to bring me back chocolate later and that left me to get a call from Mason every five minutes until I eventually let my phone die.

That was Saturday and then by Monday I had a hundred degree fever and basically spent the rest of the week sleeping on the bathroom floor.

And you know the worst part?

I miss Mason.

A lot.

I miss his voice, his laugh, his stupid pick-up lines, and his jokes.

I miss the way his big hand swallows mine and how it feels to be pressed up against his chest with his arms wrapped around me.

Even with my phone dead I was expecting him to call, to laugh at me for being a dumbass and getting sick, and then telling me to feel better afterwards.

I got so used to having him around, that the fact that he's suddenly not, is driving me crazy.

Well not too crazy since the flu kept me pretty preoccupied and the nerd in me kept wondering how I'd be able to catch up on a week's worth of homework, but he still was always in the back of my mind.

Well that is until I remember what I saw at homecoming and then I immediately rid of any thoughts of him.

I push the covers back of my bed and look up at the ceiling. Luckily my stomach's finally back to normal and my heads not as groggy as it has been. Reaching up I feel my forehead glad that my fevers finally breached. I turn my head and look at the alarm clock on my nightstand. It's six o'clock at night which means I slept all day. Gotta love being sick.

I hear a car door slam and then the doorbell rings. I assume it's my dad getting home from work, but a deep voice makes me go rigid. Then my heart rate picks up. Traitor.

I glance towards my bedroom door only to do a double take. I blink my eyes rapidly to make sure I'm seeing straight and not just imagining things with my flu infested brain.

There in the corner of my room is a pile of over ten flower bouquets. It's like a whole funerals worth.

Wait, did I die? I pinch my arm and am satisfied with the pain that shoots through it. Blame my sick brain for thinking such an irrational thought.

I hear some more mumbling from downstairs before I hear the front door close. A few seconds later I hear footsteps and before I know it my mom's head's peering into my room.

"Oh you're awake," she says softly and walks into the room. She sits down on the edge of my bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," I squeak sitting up as she reaches up and feels my forehead.

"Well, at least your fever broke." I nod and then glance back at the flower garden in the corner of my room.

"Um," I clear my throat, "what, uh - who are those for?"