Part 18

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I woke and stared into the darkness. The alarm clock was on the wrong side of the bed. I'm at Lisa's. Another glance at the alarm clock showed that it was just after three. What had awakened me in the middle of the night? Had Lisa called for me?

I felt wide-awake now and knew I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep before I checked on Lisa. Sighing, I threw back the covers and walked to the door, then opened it and peered across the hallway.

A sliver of light fell through the bedroom door that I had left open slightly.

Not taking the time to get dressed, I crossed the hallway and listened.

Bed springs creaked. Lisa sneezed and blew her nose.

I hesitated. When I glanced down, I realized that I wasn't fully dressed. With one hand already raised to push open the door, I tugged on the T-shirt with the other hand.

Get over yourself. She's sick. And she wouldn't ogle you, even if she were up to it. That constant flirting is just her type of humor.

Shaking my head, I opened the door farther and peeked inside. "Lisa?" I whispered. "Everything okay?"

"I'm sick," she said, her voice nasal and childlike. In the light of the lamp on the bedside table, sweat gleamed on her forehead. Her cheeks were flushed.

Damn. I thought the medicine and some sleep would help. If anything, she looked worse than she had a few hours before. Even though I told myself that it was just a cold and Lisa would be fine, I couldn't help worrying.

I stepped into the bedroom and closed the door to deter Lego from rushing in and disturbing Lisa's rest. A few crumpled tissues were strewn around the bed, and on my way over to her, I picked them up and threw them onto the heap of tissues already in the trash.

For a few moments, I stood looking at Lisa. I hadn't taken care of a sick person in years and never someone who was basically still a stranger. It felt weird to be in Lisa's bedroom in the middle of the night.

Oh, come on. She has already seen your bedroom. Hazily, I remembered Lisa putting me to bed after I had drunk too much. I gave myself a mental push and perched on the edge of the bed, leaving a respectable distance between her and me.

Lisa watched me with drooping eyes.

Hesitantly, I lifted my hand and laid it on Lisa's forehead, then touched her cheek. The heat radiating from Lisa's skin worried me. "God, Lisa, you're burning up! Do you have a thermometer?"

"Hmm?" she sniffled and glanced at me through watery eyes.

"A thermometer," I asked again. "Do you have one?"

She blew her nose. "Yes," she mumbled from behind the tissue.

If she hadn't been so sick, it would have been amusing.

"Good. Where is it?" I asked.

"Hmm?"

"Your thermometer—where is it?"

Lisa blinked as if she needed time to process my question.

"Bathroom," she said after a few seconds.

I got up and straightened the covers, making sure Lisa stayed warm. I stepped around the bed and entered the bathroom.

When the light flickered on, I took in the white tiles and a bathtub that looked large enough for two. Instantly, an image of Lisa in the tub with Nikki swept through my mind. I shook my head to chase away the mental picture and glared at myself in the mirror above the sink. Stop thinking about it. What she does or doesn't do with Nikki is none of your business.

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