White is for Virgins

Chapter 31

I awoke the next morning to the annoying ringing of my cellphone, which I immediately slapped off the table next to my bed in my haste to make it stop. Growling, I forced my eyes open and reached down to where the phone had fallen. Of course, because God had to make life interesting, I overestimated the stretch and ended up tumbling out of bed and onto the icy hardwood floor. My phone lay under me, still vibrating and making commotion.

"Hello?" I rasped, wincing at the pain in my throat.

"Way to get me sick," the equally raspy voice muttered on the other end of the line. Fox, I presumed. I got back under my warm covers and placed my throbbing head on the pillow.

"Oh now," I whined, my voice breaking. "My bad."

"Yeah, your bad," he rasped. Even when he's sick he sounds hot.

"No, hold up," I said, something clicking in my head, "not my bad. Your bad, for deciding to share a drink with me at the movies yesterday. Blame your frugalness."

"You didn't complain," he responded.

"Because you told me not to complain," I insisted.

"No I didn't, you could've told me you wanted your own dri–" his voice broke and faded, at which point I cut in.

"I'm not about to argue with this sore throat. Bottom line: you wanted to share drinks and you thought I was getting sick. Way to not think, Fox."

"Way to overrate your immune system, Emery," he retaliated. "'I don't get sick', huh?"

"You win, Fox. It's all my fault. Can I go back to sleep now?" I sighed, wincing at the soreness in my throat.

"No, you can't," he stated matter-of-factly.

"And why not?" I challenged.

"'Cause it's one in the afternoon already." I checked the time on my phone and groaned when it confirmed what he'd just said.

"But it's February vacation," I whined.

"But the center's still open," he said, mimicking my whiny tone.

"Can you come pick me up?" I asked, sitting up in bed and trying to make my head stop spinning.

"Already in route," he coughed in reply.

"Good," I said groggily. "We can go get some soup." I hung up the phone and slowly made my way to the bathroom. I did the usual teeth, face, hair fix-up settling for some mascara and a ponytail before finding my uniform. Fox was already parked outside when I got downstairs. I smiled at the sight of my living room, noticing my father wasn't sleeping on the couch. Must've had a good Valentine's Day...

"You look like shit," he commented between coughs as I got into the car. I looked him over, noting that he looked very pale and his eyes were kind of dull, but nonetheless emeraldy. He looked gorgeous, as always.

"Aww, thanks, pal," I smiled, even though my voice was fluctuating in pitch, "likewise." He graciously accepted the insult and we stopped at the diner for some hot soup. As we slurped the hot noodles and sipped the broth, Fox got a phone call. It was a brief one, and Fox confirmed some kind of address to the caller before thanking him or her and putting his phone away. I didn't ask about it, even though he had a hint of a smile on his face. We entered the center coughing and wincing, carrying more cups of soup for later.

"Oh, you poor babies," Nina cooed, waddling over to us but keeping her distance. "You both got sick, huh?" I could've sworn there was a little suggestion in her tone, but then again I was ready to knockout on the marble floor so I could have misjudged.