Bruised

16.

Sighing, Natalie snapped her book shut. The words seemed to swim on the page, and she could feel sweat building on her forehead and down her back. She wasn't really reading it anyway. All she could think about was Leon—and how sick she felt.

The room around her spun and she closed her eyes, trying to stave off the dizziness.

She felt horrible. She couldn't remember the last time she felt this sick. It was like no symptom was spared. While this morning, she had felt a headache, sore throat, and blocked nose, in the hours since, she'd somehow developed chills, dizziness and body aches.

She shivered, covering her face with her hands.

She should have asked her mum to shut her blinds. The light was too bright. Her head hurt. Even the sounds outside made her head throb—the birds chirping, the cars driving past, the sound of footsteps passing her window.

The sound of her window opening.

Natalie blinked, squinting through the pain of the sunlight to see Leon sneaking in through her window.

"Leon?" she croaked, unsure if she was in the hallucination phases of her fever, or if he was actually there.

"Natalie," he replied, shutting the window behind him. He seemed to hover a few metres away from her and her heart dropped as she realised the situation that she was in.

Not only was she covered in a film of sweat, but her hair was a tangled nest, she was in her pyjamas, and if he came any closer, she'd probably get him sick.

She gasped, sliding lower beneath her covers, her eyes peaking up over the top.

"Don't come any closer," she said, as loud as she could without her throat giving up on her. "I'm sick."

"Sick?" he repeated. His face seemed to drop. "Oh, God. It's because of last night, isn't it? You got too cold. I should've drove slower or—or called you a taxi—"

"It's not your fault," Natalie said. Her voice came out almost like a whisper. Even after she'd scarfed down all those numbing throat lollies, it still hurt to speak. She decided to keep it short. "I was already feeling sick yesterday. I shouldn't have snuck out without warmer clothes."

He stepped closer, opening his mouth to speak, but Natalie held up a silent hand, her eyes wide enough to make him stop.

"You'll get sick," she croaked.

He scoffed. "You think I care about being sick? Look at you. Have you even eaten?"

She pursed her lips in shame and slowly nodded. His eyes narrowed and she had the feeling that he didn't believe her lie.

"And is this all you've drank?" He lifted her half-empty water bottle. She didn't have to answer. He already knew it was. "Natalie! You're lucky I skipped class to come here. Now where do you—Hey, don't even think about speaking, you need to rest your voice. Where do you keep your flu medicine?"

Natalie pouted, swallowing her arguments. There really was no talking Leon out of skipping class anyway. Instead, in a show of complete independence and healthiness, she reached over to her bedside table, pried the drawer open, and pulled out an orange box.

She planned to sit back and wave the box in front of Leon's eyes, as if to show him that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Except, as soon as she rose into a sitting position, her head spun, and she found herself swaying.

Before she knew it, Leon's hands were on her arms, steadying her.

"Woah, woah, woah. Let's get you lying back down," he said, helping her slide back down to rest her head on the pillow. He lifted the blankets up to her chin and tucked the sides around her arms.