Runaway

Chapter 30

I don't think you can do anything about a combined fever, cold, headache and monthly trauma. Thanks though. :), I replied to Dylan's text.

I thought that'd be the end of that, but a reply came a few seconds later.

Monthly trauma? o_O, he texted.

Ohhh, never mind. I get it.

I'll be over in a bit. Hang in tight.

You really don't need to do that, I texted back, but a reply never came.

What did come was a knock on the door a half hour later, followed by: "Did someone order sick people therapy?"

"Come in", I said hoarsely. The door opened, and light flooded into the otherwise dark room.

"God, how can you see anything in here? It's pitch black." I could vaguely make out Dylan walking towards the curtains that were edged with light.

"I'm a vampire", I said darkly. "I'm used to it."

"Yeah, and I'm a baboon's uncle." He threw the curtains open and a bright white light (no, not that bright white light) flooded the room.

"You said it, not me", I said after my eyes had adjusted to the harsh lighting. Dylan still had his coat on with a backpack in tow. He put it down on the floor and sat on the edge of my bed.

"How are you feeling?", he asked seriously as he patted my arm. His face was etched with worry, his eyebrows frowned down in a cute manner as those hazel eyes fixed on me. I failed to fight off the small shivers that ran through my body at the gesture, so passed it off for shivering from the cold instead. But that resulted in Dylan moving the blanket up some to cover me all the way to my chin. Yeah, that didn't work.

"Other than exhausted, cranky, bitchy and annoyed, I'm just peachy", I said with a bitter smile.

"I don't think I've ever heard you say the word "peachy" before", Dylan remarked as he started to dig through his bag. "You must really be sick to be using that word."

"Well excuse me if my Thesaurus-like abilities aren't in proper working condition at the moment", I said sarcastically. "What are you doing here, Dylan?"

Dylan sat up straight with a Kleenex box in hand. "I'm taking care of a friend when she's obviously having a shitty day. Duh." He set the tissues on my bedside table before going through the bag again. I almost laughed. "Besides, I owe you from when took care of me. Now it's my turn to play candy stripper."

"Striper", I said exasperatingly. "How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"I know it's striper, silly", he grinned. "I'm just saying it to bug you. Now where did I put it...?"

I moved closer to the edge of the bed to try to take a look into the backpack. "What did you bring?"

"Just your everyday sick person necessities. Real ginger ale, bunch of fruits, Tylenol for fever, pains and colds-"

"No Tylenol please. We have a rocky relationship. It makes me sick", I said when he gave me a questioning look.

"Okay, if you say so." He returned to fiddling about the bag. That was it? He wasn't even going to argue with me over it?

"You're not going to say anything else about it?", I prodded.

Dylan shook his head. "No. If it makes you sick, it makes you sick. You know what does agree with you and what doesn't. We'll just have to think up an alternative. Hot water bottle, right?" I nodded, surprised but grateful. "I'll go get it from Mrs. Wells. Be right back." Dylan left the room, taking his coat off as he went.