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Lucy
Long Island / San Antonio
All of myqueasiness had subsided rather quickly, thanks to modern medicine. I was feeling tip-top by the end of the second day and I was happy to have some food in my stomach, as bland as the BRAT diet was.
Jake had stayed with me the entire time, doting on me, getting me what I needed,takingcareof me. It was wonderful. And a little unnerving.
Without asking, he seemed to know and anticipate everything. Before Dr. Phillips left, he gave me a vitamin C injection for good measure, and holy hell, that put Emergen-C to utter shame.
I vaguely recalled reading about an actress who came down with the flu the morning of the Oscars; she got the vitamin shot and attended, looking beautiful and feeling fine. I felt like I could climb Mt. Everest compared to 24 hours ago.
But I refrained, keeping my energy focused on getting my suitcase packed.
Being pissed about not being able to care for me, E decided to flex her power-balls and stayed behind with Liam. I wasn’t aware and if Jake knew, he didn’t tell me. Consequently, she had booked the four of us to all fly out together this evening.
If I was being honest, flying alone sounded preferable. It’s not that I was upset with Jake by any means, but a girl just needed some space. He had just spent the better part of two days with me.
And tending to an ill Lucy was much different than tending to a horny Lucy.
Everything Jake did for me was out of the kindness of his heart, I knew that. It was all done because he cared and was concerned about me. I could tell he had been slightly shaken when he initially saw me, and for that I did feel bad.
And though I was feeling much better and was grateful for the care and attention, I couldn’t help but feel in his debt. It was crazy, I know. Jake wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t want to. Iknowhe would never expect me to repay him for the house call, but it just didn’t sit well with me.
And not to mention the embarrassing state I was in. Covered in puke, weak, and green to the gills was something I would’ve saved for our seven hundredth date, not our fourth week together. It was too soon, too early to be that vulnerable. It was like farting in front of someone on the first date: you just didn’t do it. You were better off cutting your losses and running.
It was nibbling away at me, try as I might to push it out of my mind.
“Still feeling better?” Jake asked after we made it through TSA.
That was another thing. The constant inquiring. Again, he meant well, but I hadn’t keeled over and died when going through the X-ray machine…I wasfine.
I gave him what I hoped was a kind smile; I’m pretty sure it came across as bitchy, though. “I’m good,” I assured him.And you can stop asking,I kept to myself.
Once we were boarded, I gawked around at the first-class cabin. Jake must’ve taken it as me being impressed, but I was actually looking for E. She and Liam were seated three rows behind us on the opposite side.
Not intending to, I half-stood and waved at her. It felt like a suave, cool gesture, but by the lopsided smile she was forcing, it was anything but.
Turning to sit back down, Jake searched my face, deciphering if I was alright.
Before he could ask, I blurted, “Would you be terribly upset if I switched seats with Liam?” His eyes darted between mine, the faintest line becoming evident close to his right eyebrow. “It’s just that, well, I haven’t really talked to E since you guys found me, and I…I should probably see how she’s doing. Smooth things over with Mother Hen.” My excuse was hollow and rushed, but I didn’t really care; I was over it.
He answered me slowly and it was evident that he was refraining from asking if I was alright, once again. “Not at all…”
“Great!” Grabbing my bag, I hightailed it to E’s row and implored, “Yo, Liam. Switch seats with me, ’kay?” I reached for his elbow to encourage him to stand and get a move on.
“Sure, sure…” he muttered, looking at me like I was a new brand of crazy.
As soon as he vacated his seat, I plopped down, kicked my purse under the seat and buckled my belt.
“Oh my god, look at this leg room!” I exclaimed, kicking my feet in front of me. “This is when itreallypays to not be 5’ 10” like you,” I taunted, booping E on the nose. I felt like Edith Ann in her rocking chair.
She swatted my hand away like I was a horsefly. Then, crossing her arms, she stared. Her pupils became thin little slits in a pool of blue. It wasn’t one of those stares that was backed with shock or confusion. It was the kind that was silently judging. And worse,assessing.
“Feeling better, dear sister?”
The air vent was blasting down on me, so I reached up and adjusted it, pushing a bunch of buttons as an afterthought. “Hmm? Oh yes,” I answered, her question finally registering. “Now that I’m not puking my actual guts out, I feel fit as a fiddle!”
The person in front of E turned unobtrusively in their seat and glared at me. “Oh no, don’t worry,” I announced to the woman, “it wasn’t the flu. I amnotsick, folks.” My hands flew up in front of me, a gesture of reassurance. I hoped.
