Smitten Kitten

chapter fourteen

"OKAY BUT I THINK he might actually be dead, Nat. I'm talking ninety, ninety-five percent sure here."

"Vika-"

"No, but I'm serious this time," I insist, leaning over the unconscious man and scanning his face for any hint of movement. There's nothing. I frown. "Nat, listen, he hasn't moved at all."

A tired sigh spills from the other end of the line. "You said that the last five times you called, and every time he's ended up moving. He's alive, just sleeping. People don't usually break into interpretive dance numbers when they're sleeping, if that's what you're waiting for."

I shift in my spot perched on the edge of the bed, close enough to get a good look, but enough distance that I won't disturb his sleep/death, the answer to whether he ends up moving in the next five minutes or not.

And the soup is only mildly helping.

I take another spoonful. "This time I'm serious-serious. I was the last person he saw before he fell unconscious. What if I'm too hot? What if it's my hotness that killed him?"

"Serious-serious."

I snort. "Okay, that was a joke, but really, I'm worried. He hasn't been moving. I'm genuinely concerned for his well-being here." I hold a breath as I peer over him again, only to be met with the same stoic, basically-dead expression.

The lack of frown on his face is the most upsetting thing, honestly.

"Is he breathing?" Nat asks, but the drawl in her voice already knows the answer.

I pause. The quiet is broken by soft, slight breaths. "... Yes," I answer, begrudgingly.

"Then he's fine. Didn't Mark say when he came by that this isn't really that rare? Noel overworked himself and has a small fever now. That's why he passed out. He needs to sleep it off," Nat reassures me for the umpteenth time, but I can't stop worrying at my bottom lip.

"Fine, fine, I'll believe you. Know that you'll be footing my therapy bill when he dies on my watch."

Nat laughs. "I promise. And Mark made some soup for him when he wakes up, right? So, it'll be fine. Unless- you aren't eating Noel's death-bed soup, are you, Vika?"

"... No."

Nat heaves a sigh, but it's betrayed by the lilt of a chuckle, and I can practically see her rolling her eyes from miles away. "Just make sure there's some left for the sick man when he wakes up, alright? You have a job now, you can't be stealing from the sickly."

"Can do!" I chirp, spooning up another mouthful of broth. "Still don't understand why I'm the one that has to nurse him back to health. I mean, I feel like I'm the most unqualified person in the current circle to do that. I've had to replace Nikki's fish like three different times."

"Well, Mark has to stay at the office for a project because of his awful boss, and I have to entertain Mark's sister for this pre-bridal shower-whatever. Unless, do you want to switch with me?"

The thought of Mark's sister, Cecilia, and her offensively nasal voice that still haunts the corners of my darkest nightmares causes me to pull a face. It doesn't help that not getting the maid of honour position over Nat's longest and closest friend apparently means Cecilia's entitled to a mountain of passive aggressive comments, so I have to suppress a gag at the thought of spending more than five minutes with her.

"I think I was born to be a nurse, honestly."

Nat snorts. "That's what I thought."

Muffled in the background, I can hear something surprisingly insincere form around a, "Who's that? Is that Vika? Tell her I said hi and that I wish she could've come," and my face immediately drops.