“Close. Black iron fence and a treehouse.”
I chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, that seems about right.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know, you seem well adjusted. Perfect job, perfect life, perfect childhood. All goes hand in hand, no?”
“No one’s life is perfect.” Ryan’s smile fell for a moment and I wondered if I’d gone too far. “I mean, I have to live with you.” He smirked.
I frowned and flipped him off, and he laughed.
“I’m not joking. Have you met you?” he said.
I was about to respond when the waiter stopped by our table with our appetizer and drinks. He slid the plate onto the center of the table, then headed off to his next customers.
“Mmm.” Ryan inhaled. “These smells amazing.”
“I told you. Wait until the pizza comes out.”
“I’m a fan.” Ryan reached for the plates and held one out to me.
The delicious aromas of the pizza cooking in the kitchen made my stomach growl. But for now, I grabbed a couple of mushrooms and ranch.
“So I had the treehouse and the suburbs growing up,” Ryan said as he dunked one of his mushrooms in the creamy sauce. “And you had the city and a motorcycle, right? Didn’t you say you learned to ride at sixteen?”
“I did. But I was fixing them at thirteen. That’s when I met Jon.”
“Jon?”
“Yeah, the bartender who paid for your drinks the night you ventured into my part of the city.”
I popped one of the mushrooms in my mouth and chewed, and as the familiar flavors hit my tongue, the ache in my head resurfaced.
“He paid for my drinks? I thought you did that? So really I should be thanking him for that night.”
“Don’t you offer to do shit for him—he’ll be quick to take you up on it. Especially someone who looks like you.”
“What do you mean by that? He have a subscription to GQ magazine or something?”
I was about to tell him no, it was because he was put together and sweet looking, the perfect canvas to dirty up. But before I could, the splitting pain in my head made me wince.
“Hey,” Ryan said. “Are you okay?”
“Actually, I’m not feeling so good. Do you mind if we cut out a little early?”
“Of course not. I knew we should’ve stayed in. Are you okay to ride home? We could call a—”
“I’m okay. It’s just my headache. It’s come back with a vengeance.”
Ryan frowned, and I suddenly hated to be cutting the night short. I’d been enjoying my time with him, finally getting to know something about him. But my head wasn’t having it.
“Okay, let me cancel the pizza real quick, and I’ll just order something at home if I get hungry.” He signaled the waiter and explained what had happened, and after several apologies, Ryan tossed some bills on the table.
“I brought you here,” I said. “I can pay.”
“I suggested we go out, so I got this. You can pay next time.”
Not about to argue, I nodded and headed for the door. All I wanted right now was to get us home safely and then crawl in bed, close my eyes, and wake up when this was all over.
Chapter 17
Jameson
MY HEAD WAS killing me and I could barely breathe as I sat up in bed the next morning and clutched at my forehead.
I’d definitely felt it coming on last night. That was why I’d gone to bed early, hoping to sleep it off. But as I sat on the edge of the bed staring at my feet, I felt as though I’d been awake for a week. I was exhausted.
I scrubbed my hands over my face, hoping to wake myself up somehow, but when I threw back the covers and got to my feet, the room began to spin. This wasn’t good. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d come down with a cold, and it had never felt like this.
I carefully made my way over to the dresser where I’d propped a mirror, and was shocked to see dark rings under my eyes and a noticeable paleness to my complexion.
Fuck. What the hell was wrong with me? My throat felt scratchy, too.
I grabbed a shirt from a drawer and pulled it on, deciding that a shower might help clear my head. If that didn’t work, maybe I could just crawl back in bed and die.
I pulled open my door and was about to head straight for the bathroom when I heard, “Good morning.”
Ryan was standing behind the island with a coffee mug in hand. He looked as put together as ever with his freshly showered hair pushed back and styled in his usual way. He had on a long-sleeved shirt that looked both warm and comfortable.
“Yeah, hi.”
Ryan set his coffee cup down and walked around the island. “You don’t look so good.”
I snorted, and when that made my head hurt, I grabbed it. “Thanks a lot, GQ.”
“No, I’m serious. You look really”—I cut my eyes to his—“sick.”
“Yeah.” I covered my mouth and coughed. “I’ve felt better.”
“Can I get you anything? Do anything for you?”
“Can you take a shower for me?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized how they sounded—and so did Ryan, judging by the spots of color that appeared on his cheeks.
“If you need help, I could—”
“No.”
Even though I’d told myself Ryan and I would never be more than roommates, the idea of his seeing me naked for the first time when I was practically an invalid was not a good one.
“Okay, well, leave the door open a crack in case you fall. I need to be able to get to you.”
I blinked at him as though he’d gone insane.
“What? It could happen.” Ryan hooked his arm through mine and began to lead me across the room. “Just because you’re the one who’s usually out helping people, doesn’t mean you might not need help yourself. Do you feel lightheaded?”
I felt like I was tripping on some really strong hallucinogens as Ryan stopped by the bathroom door and flicked on the light. As the room lit up, I squinted.
“Oh shit. Sorry.” He flipped it off again and held up a finger. “One sec. Hang on to the door.”
“I’m fine. I’m not going to fa—”
“Hang on to the door.”
I smirked at Ryan’s bossy outburst. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had been so worried about my safety. I braced a hand on the frame, and once he was satisfied, he disappeared down the hall.
A couple of seconds later, he was back and waving a nightlight. “This won’t blind you, but will give you some light.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
Ryan walked inside and plugged in the light. “I’m going to leave the door open a little, just in case. Don’t fight me. I promise not to spy on you.”
He disappeared behind the door, and I carefully made my way to the shower. I turned on the faucet and then sat down on the closed lid of the toilet to remove my clothes.
Damn, I felt like shit. From the pounding in my head, to my neck and shoulders that were starting to lock up, it seemed whatever this was, it was getting worse.
I climbed into the shower and tipped my head back under the warm water, hoping the steam would somehow help the congestion and cure whatever had taken a hold of me—but no such luck. When I shut off the water, my legs began to shake.