Текст книги "Back to You "

Автор книги: Priscilla Glenn

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

“There you are!” Jenn said cheerily as she came out of nowhere and grabbed Lauren’s hand. “Excuse us.” She smiled up at Michael before she dragged Lauren into the other room.

As soon as they were out of sight, she spun toward Lauren. “So, what happened?”

“With Mark?”

Jenn rolled her eyes. “I can figure out what happened with Mark,” she said, purposely giving her the once-over, and Lauren felt her cheeks get hot as she started combing through her hair again. “I meant with Del.”

“Nothing happened. He’s really mad.”

Jenn smiled. “Good.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Lauren said, shaking her head. “I don’t think this was a good idea. I think he’s really mad at me.”

“No. He’s mad at himself for not being the one in the room with you.”

Lauren glanced over her shoulder skeptically, but Michael was gone.

“Now,” Jenn said, pulling her attention back. “We get another drink, and we let him come to you. Moth to a flame, baby,” she said with a smile. “And he will.”

Jenn dragged her back to the keg that was set up in the kitchen so they could get another drink, and then they sat on the coffee table in the living room, sipping their beers. Jenn made small talk with the people around them, and Lauren followed suit, but every few seconds, her eyes would scan the crowd, looking for Michael.

She couldn’t see him anywhere.

After about a half hour with no sign of him, Lauren finally decided that he’d probably gone home.

She looked down, awkwardly playing with the lip of her plastic cup. This was bad. She had to fix this. She’d call him when she got home, she promised herself.

But what the hell was she going to say?

Lauren looked up again, scanning the kitchen one more time, and she found Mark standing in line for the keg with two of his friends.

Michael had been right. It would have been nice if he’d at least hung out with her for a little bit afterward.

She was an idiot.

And just as the thought crossed her mind, she saw a crowd of people part as someone entered the kitchen from the opposite side.

Her heart leapt into her throat when she realized it was Michael.

He moved quickly, passing everyone who was waiting in line for beer as he walked right up to the keg, cutting in front of Mark and grabbing the tap.

“Whoa, buddy,” Mark said. “There’s a line—”

Instantly Michael whirled, punching Mark in the face so hard that his feet came off the floor before he crashed back against the boy behind him and tumbled to the ground.

Lauren gasped loudly as she jumped up off the coffee table, her beer splashing to the floor. The sound—the sickening, cracking thud as his fist connected—carried all the way to the living room. She knew she’d never forget that sound.

Within seconds, people were hat’s going on with you and Del?”ck you toscattering everywhere, most moving away from the scene as Mark’s friends moved toward it, some of them trying to help him off the floor while the others tried pulling Michael away.

Lauren ran toward the kitchen, immediately noticing the blood on the floor as she entered. It was everywhere, looking like it was coming out of Mark’s mouth or nose.

And then her eyes were pulled to the sudden, sharp movement of Michael ripping free from the boys who held him as he charged Mark again.

“Stop!” Lauren screamed, launching herself on top of the island counter that stood between her and the chaos, knocking over several bottles in the process. “Stop it!”

She tried to take his face in her hands, tried to get him to look at her, but his forward motion caused her to lose her balance. She flew backward, gripping the front of his shirt to steady herself as she landed on her backside on the countertop, sending a few more bottles shattering to the floor.

“Michael!” she screamed. For the first time since she’d known him, she felt a genuine flash of fear. He looked crazed, not even present.

“Michael, please!” she cried, feeling the tears building behind her voice.

He grabbed her wrist firmly, his eyes darting to hers, and once he realized who was gripping his shirt, she saw his eyes soften slightly. In that moment of hesitation, the boys that were behind him grabbed him again, yanking him out of her grip and restraining him long enough for the other boys to get Mark out of there.

Lauren sat on the counter surrounded by broken glass, her chest heaving and her eyes wide.

“Relax, bro! Relax!” one of the boys was yelling as a third ran to help them restrain Michael.

Lauren’s eyes were locked on him as she watched him scan the scene, taking in the people backing away, the blood on the floor, the arms fighting to control him.

He jerked forward again, breaking free from the boys, but this time he moved toward Lauren.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said through labored breath, extending his hand to her.

Her body was shaking with adrenalin, her breath coming in gasps. She glanced over at Jenn, who was standing on the threshold of the kitchen, both hands clamped over her mouth and her eyes wide.

For a moment, it looked like she regretted the advice she’d given Lauren.

But then Michael grabbed Lauren’s hand and pulled her off the counter, towing her out of the room, and as he dragged her past Jenn, she dropped her hands and smiled. “This is it. Call me,” she whispered quickly as Lauren passed her.

As soon as they were outside, Michael released her hand as he tore down the driveway, and Lauren walked double-time to keep up.

When they reached his car a few feet down the road, he yanked open the passenger door before he stormed around the front of the car to his side.

“Are you okay to drive?” she asked softly.

He got in and slammed the door, and the next sound was the thunderous sound of the car starting. She stood there, hesitating for a moment as she took a shaky breath.

“Please just get in,” she heard him say roughly from inside the car, and she swallowed before she slid into the seat and closed the door, buckling her seatbelt.

He took off like a shot, peeling rubber as they turned down the street, and Lauren leaned forward and grabbed the dash.

“Michael, please!” didn’t have to come here.”gry she said, and instantly, he took his foot off the gas and the car slowed to a reasonable speed.

She exhaled heavily, sitting back in her seat as she glanced over at him. He was looking straight ahead, his expression unreadable.

Maybe this was it. Maybe Jenn was right, and this would be the moment he’d confess his feelings. I want you. I don’t want you to be with anyone else. I want you to be mine, only mine.

But there was nothing.

They drove the entire way to her house in silence. He didn’t even turn the radio on.

When Michael finally pulled into the top of her driveway and cut the engine, they sat there for a few silent moments before Lauren finally sighed. “That really wasn’t necessary,” she said. “You could have gotten arrested.”

“That kid mouthed off to me!” he snapped.

Lauren turned toward him, her expression unimpressed. “He said ‘whoa, buddy’ because you cut him in line.”

“He’s got a big fucking mouth!” Michael yelled, cutting her off. “And you had no business getting involved. You could have gotten hurt!”

Lauren closed her eyes and shook her head. She knew better than to try to have a conversation with him when he was like this. She took a small breath and turned to get out of the car.

He reached out and grabbed her arm, gently this time.

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

His voice had softened significantly, although she knew him well enough to know that he was still annoyed.

“No, I’m fine,” she said softly.

Michael released her arm and exhaled heavily. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“You didn’t scare me,” she lied. “I just…I wish you would try to keep your head next time, okay?”

“And I wish you would use better judgment when it comes to guys next time, okay?”

Lauren looked at him for a second before she nodded silently.

“Good night, Red,” he said, leaning over to kiss her forehead before he reached across her and opened the car door.

She got out and walked down her driveway in a stupor, knowing Michael wouldn’t leave until she was safely inside her house.

No sooner than she opened her front door, she heard the phone in her bedroom ringing, and she ran upstairs, although she already knew who it would be.

“Yeah?” Lauren said as she sat on the edge of her bed.

“You’re killing me. What happened?”

“Nothing,” Lauren said, half-heartedly kicking off her shoes.

“Nothing?” Jenn asked. “What do you mean, nothing? Guys don’t beat up other guys over girls they don’t want.”

“He went after him because he mouthed off to him at the keg,” Lauren said.

“Oh, come on, Laur, you don’t really buy that, do you? Even Del’s not that crazy.”

Lauren sighed as she flopped back onto her bed. “Either way. Remember when Tommy Greene beat up that guy who slept with his sister?”

There was only silence on the other end of the line, and Lauren knew she had Jenn cornered. “I’m telling you, I’m like his { display: block; text-indent: 5%; font-size: 0.88rem; margin-top: bl you to little sister. He told me to use better judgment with the next guy. That’s hardly claiming me for his own.”

There was another silence before she heard Jenn sigh on the other line. “So that’s it, then?”

Lauren closed her eyes, because she didn’t know what other choice she had. The bottom line was Michael Delaney never held back from what he wanted, and if it was her, she would know.

“Well, this sucks,” Jenn said. “Because after what Mark Valero went through tonight, you’re gonna have a hell of a time getting another guy to hook up with you.”

.

November 2011

Lauren sat in the passenger seat of Adam’s car, alternating between glancing at his profile and looking out the window, trying to figure out where they were going.

When he had called her a few days ago to finalize their plans, he’d only told her to dress casually. Lauren had pressed him for more information, but he was deliberately vague. It didn’t bother her then—in fact, she found it kind of endearing—but now that they were in his car driving to some unknown destination, it was driving her crazy.

When she looked back at him for what must have been the tenth time, she saw a smug smile curving the corners of his lips.

“You enjoying yourself over there?” she asked, her brow quirked.

“Am I enjoying watching you squirm? Of course not.”

“Doesn’t look like it from where I’m sitting,” Lauren said, folding her arms and fighting her own smile as she glanced out the passenger window again.

“We’re almost there,” he said, his voice breaking on the chuckle he could no longer contain, and Lauren shook her head.

“That settles it. I’m definitely escaping through the bathroom window once we get there,” she said, earning her a full-blown laugh as Adam slowed the car and turned up what Lauren thought was a side road, but ended up being a wide driveway.

Through the dusk, she saw the flash of the sign at the bottom of the drive: “South Hills School of Business and Technology.”

She turned toward him, her brow lifted. “You’re taking me to school?”

“Sort of,” he said, pulling into a parking space in front of one of the buildings.

Before she could ask anything else, Adam was out of the car and walking around to her side, opening the door for her. He extended his hand to help her out, closing the door behind her, and Lauren had to bite her lip to hide her smile when he intertwined their fingers rather than letting her hand go as they began walking toward the glass doors at the front of the building.

They walked down the corridor in silence, stealing little peeks at each other as they went. His playful glances—along with the feel of his hand clasping hers—lit a warmth in her belly that reminded her of being a teenager again.

Lauren couldn’t deny how good he looked tonight: a pair of nice jeans and a black button-down shirt, his blond hair looking somewhat unkempt and yet still impeccable at the same time.

And he smelled amazing.

“Here we are,” he said, gesturing with his head toward the large sign on the door didn’t have to come here.”t Sr they had stopped in front of.

Couple’s Cooking Class: Saturday Evenings, 6:30 p.m.

As Lauren read it, a slow smile broke over her face.

“I figured any guy could take you out to dinner, but how many guys can cook you a gourmet meal?”

“Impressive,” she said, looking up at him. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Oh…well, I can’t, actually,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand and shrugging. “Hence this class.” Lauren laughed as he added, “But it still counts, right?”

He reached for the door and released her hand, placing his on the small of her back as she walked into the large room. There were about ten cooking stations, complete with stoves, appliances, measuring cups and spoons, and some ingredients already lined up on the counter space.

“Welcome!” beamed a middle-aged woman from the front of the room. “Have you signed up in advance for this evening’s class?”

“Yes,” Adam said. “Adam Wells.”

The woman looked down through the glasses balanced precariously on the tip of her nose, scanning a clipboard. “Ah yes, here you are. Excellent! Help yourselves to any open station,” she said, gesturing grandly toward the room.

There were five other couples already scattered at various stations, and they all smiled and nodded in greeting as Adam and Lauren made their way to the empty station on the far right of the room.

“This was a great idea,” Lauren said as they settled in. “Thank you.”

“A thank you before the date even begins? Does this mean I no longer have to fear a bathroom exodus?”

Lauren smiled as she went up on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And when she pulled back, the look in his normally playful eyes was now something else all together, and it turned the warmth in her belly into a full-blown inferno.

“Okay ladies and gents,” the woman called from the front of the room, breaking the spell. “I think we have everyone for tonight, so let’s get started.” With a quick clap of her hands, she added, “If you’ll please head to the bin in the back of the room and grab yourselves an apron.”

They walked to the back amid the other couples, each grabbing an apron out of a large container. Lauren slid hers over her head as she walked back toward their station, tying it behind her back as she went. She looked down as she smoothed her hands over the front of it, noticing the white letters scrawled over the red fabric: Kiss the Cook.

“Can you give me a hand?” she heard Adam ask, and she looked over to see him with his back to her, his normally dexterous hands fumbling with the flimsy strings.

“A chiropractor with inept hands?” she sighed, clucking her tongue and shaking her head. “I guess I should be thanking my lucky stars you transferred me to someone competent.” She pulled the strings out of his struggling fingers and began tying.

Adam turned to look at her over his shoulder. “You think my hands are inept?” he asked, and Lauren shrugged, fighting a smile, her knuckles grazing the firm muscles of his back as she tied the apron.

“That’s good,” he said with a nod, turning away from her again. “That might work in my favor.”

shoulder">“Oh? How is that?” she asked, finishing up the bow, and he turned toward her; the mischief in his eyes belied his innocent expression.

“Because proving you wrong could be kind of fun.”

Lauren’s stomach twirled with something she couldn’t quite place as she looked up at him, but before she could respond, her eyes dropped to his chest. She burst out laughing, cupping both her hands to her mouth in an attempt to muffle the sound.

He pulled his brow together and looked down. “Ah, crap,” he said through a groan, shaking his head as his laughter combined with hers.

On the front of his white apron was the outline of a cartoon woman’s body, her obscenely large breasts bursting out of a tiny bikini top and her thighs swelling out of an equally skimpy bottom. Adam looked up sheepishly as he held his hands over his cartoon breasts, attempting to hide them, which only made Lauren laugh harder.

“Switch with me,” he said.

“Not on your life,” Lauren said through her laughter. “Besides, it looks good on you. Who would have thought you were so voluptuous under those scrubs?”

Adam lifted his eyebrows. “How long have you been thinking about what’s under my scrubs?” he challenged.

“Okay, ladies and gentlemen, now that we are all properly attired, let’s begin!” the teacher said. “If you’ll have a look at the folder on the right side of your station…” Adam leaned around Lauren to grab the folder, bringing his chest flush with her back.

“Saved by the bell,” he whispered in her ear, and she felt a faint shiver run down her spine that was as pleasant as it was unexpected.

She should have known better by now; no matter how many times she thought she had him trumped, he always seemed to end up with the upper hand.

And she liked it. A lot.

Adam opened the folder and took out the papers inside, spreading them out on the counter and following along as the teacher went over the menu for the evening. Or rather, their assignment. Smoked salmon and crème fraiche bruschetta for an appetizer, filet mignon with a red wine mushroom sauce over sautéed spinach and baby carrots for the main course, and a cinnamon peach crumble with vanilla ice cream for dessert.

“Jesus,” he mumbled, his eyes scanning the paper in front of him.

“A little out of your element?” Lauren asked, feeling a bit nervous herself as she scanned the recipe.

“There’s a pizza place right down the road,” he said, putting the paper down and looking up at the teacher. “If this takes a turn for the worse, we hit it up on the way home.”

“Deal,” Lauren laughed, turning to look at the teacher as she held up a knife and explained the proper way to dice a tomato.

About an hour and a half later, they were seated in the adjacent room, which was set up to look like a makeshift restaurant, complete with linens and good silverware and candlelight. The couples all sat, waiting to be served the meals they had just prepared for themselves.

“I’m telling you, you’ve found your calling,” Lauren said as Adam poured them each a glass of wine.

“Don’t get smart,” he said, glancing up at her with a smirk as he placed the bottle back on the table.

“I’m not! I thought you were great in there. Well, except for the whole carrot thing.” lives far away.”

Adam laughed, shaking his head. He had started to chop them, not realizing the recipe called for them to be served whole, and each time he brought the knife down on the raw carrots, tiny pieces would shoot off the cutting board in different directions, like rogue missiles, hitting Lauren and at times the couple in front of them. Finally, the teacher came over and laid a placating hand on his wrist, telling him it was unnecessary for the recipe, and Lauren had to focus extremely hard on sautéing the spinach to keep from laughing.

“Oh, and the onion thing,” Lauren added, smirking before she took a delicate sip of wine.

“You know, a lesser man’s ego would be bruised by all these backhanded compliments.”

“Good thing you’re not a lesser man, then.”

Adam smiled, lifting his glass to hers, and she clinked it softly. “And besides,” he said, “you were the one who assigned me the onions to chop. You could have mentioned it’s a step below getting maced.”

Lauren laughed. “Why do you think I passed the job to you?”

Adam narrowed his eyes at her. “Cruel.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

He raised his brow before he smiled. “Fair enough,” he said as a server brought their appetizers to the table.

“Well,” Lauren said once the plates were in front of them. “Ready?”

“If you are,” Adam said, lifting his fork.

Lauren nodded, and they both cut a small piece of the smoked salmon and crème fraiche bruschetta, bringing it to their lips. After chewing in silence for a second, Adam brought the back of his hand to his mouth. “Wow,” he said around his mouthful of food. “That’s…”

“Incredible,” Lauren finished for him, taking another forkful. “Do you think this is actually the one we made, or are they taking pity on us and serving us the real deal?”

“If this is them taking pity on us, I’ll gladly accept it. Damn,” he added after taking another bite. “We’re good. We’re actually good. I’m impressed with us.”

“Agreed,” she laughed, dabbing her mouth with the napkin.

Adam took a sip of wine. “So,” he finally said. “Can I ask what made you want to be a child psychologist?”

Lauren lifted her wine, taking a sip, which gave her a few extra seconds to formulate her answer. She went with partial truth.

“I don’t know. I guess I’ve just seen a lot of kids who don’t have the coping strategies for issues they’re encountering at young ages, whether it’s emotional or developmental. And I know that having those strategies, having an outlet, makes all the difference. In how they turn out, I mean. And I just…I want to do more than be a teacher for kids like that.” She looked up to find him watching her intently. “I know…that sounds so…”

“Admirable? Humane? Commendable?”

Lauren felt her cheeks get hot. “I was going to say clichéd.”

Adam shook his head. “Not at all,” he said softly.

She smiled then, dropping her eyes for a moment. “What about you?” she asked, lifting her fork again. “What made you want to be a chiropractor?”

He shrugged. “I broke oo real.

Lauren froze with her fork halfway to her mouth, her eyes growing wide. “You broke your neck?”

He nodded, taking the last bite of his appetizer before he wiped his mouth.

“Oh my God,” Lauren said. “When? How?”

“My senior year of high school. I had just landed a baseball scholarship to the University of Texas the week before it happened. We were playing the last game of our season. I was on second, and the guy up at bat hit a hard grounder down the left side. The third baseman squatted down to field it just as I slid headfirst into third, and boom.” He crashed his two fists together in front of him. “My head, his knee.”

Lauren cringed, shaking her head. “Jesus.”

“Oh, it sucked.”

“How are you…How can you…?”

“I got lucky. Really, really lucky. And on top of that, the rehab facility I was in was amazing. And that’s when I knew it was what I wanted to do.”

“Wow,” Lauren said. “So, how long were you in rehab?”

The server who had just arrived to bring them the main course cast a look between them before he awkwardly cleared his throat and excused himself, and Adam laughed.

“Great. When they come and confiscate our wine, it’s going to be your fault.”

Lauren covered her face with her hands and laughed, and Adam leaned over the table, removing her hands. “A month,” he said, running his thumb over her knuckles and lighting the warmth in her belly again. “And then another three months as an outpatient,” he said, finally releasing her hand to lift his utensils. “Ready?”

She looked him in the eyes and nodded. “I think so,” she said softly, and whether he realized it or not, she was referencing more than tasting the meal.

The main course was fantastic, and the dessert made Lauren moan, much to her embarrassment and Adam’s amusement. Their conversation was effortless, and interesting, and funny, and Lauren couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun. The entire date couldn’t have gone more perfectly.

But despite that, as Adam walked her up to her door, she felt the familiar trepidation building low in her stomach, creeping its way into her chest.

They stopped before her door, and Lauren turned to him, smiling softly. “Thank you so much. I had an amazing time.”

“I’m glad,” he said, looking down at her, and she could tell by the way his eyes flickered back and forth between hers that he was assessing her.

Lauren glanced down, biting her lower lip before she looked back up at him. She wanted to kiss him, she did. She just wished—

He leaned down then, stopping her thoughts as he pressed his lips to hers, and she gasped against his mouth. He immediately stilled, giving her the option to pull away, but after a stunned second she sighed, leaning into him as she deepened the kiss, temporarily forgetting her anxiety and even her name as their lips began moving together.

His mouth was amazing; tender, soft, and playful, sending little bolts of electricity to all the right places in her body.

She had no idea how long they’d been kissing—it could have been minutes or days, she was so lost in the feeling he was giving her—before she finally came back to reality. Her body was completely flush with his; one of his hands wasHappy New Year"> shoulder in her hair, the other on her hip, and she had both of her hands fisted in the front of his shirt.

She pulled back slightly, releasing a trembling breath, and he dropped his forehead to hers and closed his eyes, smiling.

“Adam,” she breathed.

“Mm?”

She exhaled shakily. “I’m not going to invite you upstairs.”

He kept his forehead pressed against hers, but he smiled softly. “I wouldn’t have come up even if you did,” he whispered, his lips ghosting hers on every word.

Her mouth parted softly, and she found herself lifting her chin, trying to increase the pressure of his lips on her own, but he pulled back slightly, brushing the hair away from her face. “You’re something different, Lauren. I’m not gonna rush this.”

He leaned down again, pressing his lips to hers one more time before he took a step back. “I’ll call you tomorrow?” he said.

Lauren nodded, unable to speak, and he smiled his trademark grin. “Good night,” he said, kissing her hand before he turned to walk down the pathway toward his car.

Lauren watched him go for a second before she turned toward her door and unlocked it in a complete stupor.

She undressed, put on her pajamas, brushed her teeth, and crawled into bed, completely on autopilot.

But as soon as she was lying in the comfort of her bed, all her faculties returned to her at once, and she couldn’t help but replay the entire night in her mind over and over. She smiled to herself, curling the blanket into her chest when it tingled with the memory of the way he made her laugh, the way he looked at her.

The way his mouth felt on hers.

There were only a handful of memories Lauren had done this with; committing it to her mind, playing it on repeat like a favorite movie, pulling it from her subconscious whenever she needed to smile, or laugh, or sigh.

And before this night, all those memories had belonged to Michael.

.

December 2001

Miserable did not even come close to describing how Lauren was feeling. She laid in her bed, her comforter and an extra quilt tucked up around her chin and a tissue crammed in each nostril. A sudden flash of heat overcame her, and she sat up and kicked off her covers with an angry huff, which quickly turned into a violent coughing fit.

“God,” she groaned, her voice gravelly as she scooped her matted hair into a makeshift ponytail just to get it off her neck.

“Damn, Red. You look like shit.”

Lauren’s eyes flashed to her bedroom doorway; through her coughing, she hadn’t even heard anyone come up the stairs.

“Gee thanks,” she said, pulling the tissues out of her nose as discreetly as she could. She was lucid enough to realize she should have been humiliated at being seen in this condition, especially by Michael, but truth be told, she was too sick to even pretend to care. “Why are you here?” she croaked. “You should be at the dance.”

“I already told you, I don’t do school dances,” he said, taking off his jacket and throwing it haphazardly over the papasan chair in the corner of her room. “Besides, I can’t goOr excuse yourself to the bathroom and escape a, glancing up at him. Anyone who’s been suspended out of school more than three times this year isn’t allowed.”

Lauren used a crumpled tissue to wipe her nose. “So is that why you behave the way you do? So you won’t have to attend school functions?”

Michael smiled. “Yeah, you got me. Every move I make comes down to avoiding some cheesy-ass school dance.”

Lauren shook her head. “Idiot,” she laughed under her breath as she tossed the crumpled tissue into the trash bin near her bed.

“You sound like a phone sex operator with your voice like that.”

“God, shut up,” Lauren groaned, covering her face with her hands and dropping back onto her pillows.

“I’m serious,” Michael said, leaning against her dresser and folding his arms. “You should try to make a couple of extra bucks for yourself while it lasts. Might as well, since you’re stuck here in bed anyway. If you’ll give me a cut, I’ll give you the numbers of some guys that would stay on the phone for hours. We’ll bleed them dry.”

“Please just shut up,” she said through her hands.

“Mmm. Just like that, baby. Keep talking,” Michael said throatily, and Lauren pressed her lips together, fighting a laugh but failing.

“Honey?”

Lauren dropped her hands from her face and turned toward her bedroom doorway. “Hi Dad.”

“You doing okay?” he asked, sending a quick glance in Michael’s direction.

“I’m hanging in there,” she said as she sat up.

Her father nodded, lingering in the doorway for a second. “Do you need more tissues?”

“No, I’m good, Dad, thanks.”

He nodded again, looking around the room, his eyes landing on Michael one last time before he turned. When they finally heard the muffled sounds of him trudging down the stairs, Michael turned to look at her. His eyes dropped to the bed, taking in the three boxes of tissues that surrounded Lauren.

“More tissues?” Michael deadpanned, lifting his eyes to Lauren’s face.

Lauren shrugged, fluffing her pillow up against the headboard before she leaned back against it. “That was just him making sure the door was open.”

“Well shit, the man should give me a little credit, don’t you think? You’re a walking science experiment right now. As if I’d actually touch you.”

Lauren grabbed the pillow next to her and threw it half-heartedly at him, missing by several feet. “Did you come here to make me more miserable than I already am?”

Michael laughed, walking toward his jacket on the other side of the room. “Relax. It’s just the flu. You’ll feel better soon.”

“It’s not just that,” Lauren mumbled through a pout as she grabbed a fresh tissue from one of the boxes.