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“Let’s work on getting these sheets changed. Can you make it over to Mandi’s bed without passing out?”
I sit up again, then get massively woozy and grab my head. “I-I don’t know.”
Eli gently pulls me to my feet, then wraps an arm securely around me.
“It’s just a few steps,” he says softly, keeping a tight grip around my waist as he leads me to the bed.
“I hate feeling so helpless,” I complain. “It’s frustrating.”
“It’s also not your fault.” He helps me sit down on the edge of the bed, and I immediately flop over on my side.
“That was like running a marathon,” I grumble.
“You need to get some food into you. Now, where are your fresh sheets?”
I point to where I keep my second set, and he gets to work pulling off the old ones and carefully putting on the new ones, along with a fresh pillowcase for my pillow. When he’s done, he dumps the gross pile into the laundry hamper.
“You know, if I wasn’t so sick, I’d hug you right now. And I’m not a hugger,” I tell him. “Thank you so much.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
He helps me back to my bed, and I decide to forgo the comforter and just use the sheet. My stomach lets out an unholy growl, but I also feel a bit queasy.
Eli smirks. “Think it’s time to make that soup?”
“I’m willing to try.”
“What kind do you want? I have chicken noodle, vegetable, or beef.”
“Chicken noodle,” I murmur. “But I don’t have any spoons.”
“Don’t worry. I swiped some plastic ones from the cafeteria,” he says, popping a bowl into the microwave.
Five minutes later, I’m sitting up against the pillows, warm and cozy with my bowl of soup. I’ve got crackers crumbled over the top, thanks to a few packages Eli swiped from the cafeteria, along with the spoons.
“Is it okay?”
“It’s heavenly,” I reply, slurping up a spoonful. “Thank you so much.”
“Holland, stop thanking me.”
“No.”
I glance over to where he’s lounging on Mandi’s bed, one arm draped behind his head. “I meant what I said before, Eli. I owe you one.”
“Just concentrate on getting better right now. I need you back in fighting form.”
“Why is that?”
He smiles. “Cause who else will give me a hard time if you’re not around?”
I take another spoonful of soup. “Don’t worry, I can still give you shit even though I’m sick.”
He grins. “Well, that’s a relief.”
After a few more bites, I realize that eating may not have been such a hot idea. My stomach churns as I set the bowl down on the bedside table. Placing a hand on my stomach, I breathe slowly in and out of my nose.
Oh, hell. Please,no.
