Out of Line (Out of Line #1)(47)
Author: Jen McLaughlin

When the first tortured groan escaped her, I stopped trying to fight the inevitable. I kneeled beside her, grabbing her hair to keep it out of the path of destruction. Her body tensed, but she didn’t have a chance to tell me to go away before the vomiting started again. My own stomach twisted in reply, but I gnashed my teeth. By the time she was finished, I knew I would be throwing up today too.

I stood, my legs shaking, and wet a washcloth with warm water. She rested her cheek on her forearm, which was flung over the side of the toilet. When I came back to her side, she opened her eyes and blinked at me, a tear rolling down her face. “This sucks,” she whispered.

I dabbed the washcloth over her forehead and across her mouth. “I know.”

“Why are you doing this?” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “It’s not in your job description, is it?”

“Knock it the hell off.” I flexed my jaw, tossing the washcloth in the corner of the bathroom. I picked her up. “I’m taking care of you, and you’re not going to stop me.”

She rested her head on my shoulder, her hand once again over my heart—which traitorously sped up. “I don’t know why you could possibly want to.”

“It should be obvious. If it’s not, I’m not sure what to say.” I lowered her to the bed and lifted the blankets until she was covered. “I’m going to go grab you some medicine. I’ll be right back.”

I headed for the bathroom and closed the door behind me. After turning on the shower, which I hoped would be loud enough to drown out the sound of what I was about to do, I fell to my knees in front of the porcelain god. I flushed the toilet, and within seconds my own stomach emptied itself.

By the time I was finished, I felt as shaky and weak as she’d looked. I flushed again, then hopped in the shower to make it look as if I’d showered instead of ralphed. I allowed myself a minute to quickly scrub down, brush my teeth, and throw a towel around my waist. Opening up the cabinet, I pulled out the Pepto-Bismol I’d bought a few weeks ago after I’d had some bad tuna.

I took a dose for myself behind the closed door, and then came out of the bathroom with hers. She was curled up on her side, her eyes open but sleepy. I sat down beside her and held out the medicine. “Here. Take this.”

“Thank you.” She sat up slowly, her gaze drifting over me. “Can you please lose the towel?”

I tensed. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want to see you half naked.” She licked her lips, her stare somewhere around the level of my abs. “Not anymore.”

Liar. “Sure.”

I stood up, dropping the towel to the floor. Her indrawn breath almost made me crack a smile, but I forced myself to remain dead serious. Hell, I even stretched my arms over my head, letting her look her fill for however long she’d like.

“Finn.”

I looked over at her, butt-assed naked. “Yeah?”

“You’re naked.”

“I know.” I looked down at myself. “You said to lose the towel. You also said you didn’t want to see me half naked anymore, so here you go.”

She set down her empty cup on the nightstand with a trembling hand, but her lips quirked as if a smile was trying to escape, but she didn’t want to let it. I hadn’t realized how much I missed her smile lighting up my life until now. “When I said ‘lose the towel,’ I meant put on some clothes. And by not wanting to see you half naked, I meant clothed.”

“Oh.” I shrugged. “I guess I could get dressed.”

I crossed the room wearing my birthday suit, then opened my top drawer. She let out a strangled groan, but I heard her lay back down. Did she face the other way so she wouldn’t have to see me anymore? Or was she watching? I dared a glance over my shoulder and quickly turned back around.

Oh, she was watching, all right.

I slowly stepped into a pair of boxers and pulled out a pair of khaki shorts. After I slid those on, I turned to face her. My stomach was a little bit steadier now. “Better?”

She cleared her throat. “Shirt?”

“Nah. I never wear one at home. You know that.” I sat down beside her, reaching out to feel her forehead. It was blazing hot. “Shit, you have a fever.”

She blinked at me. “Yeah, I’ve had one all day. Woke up with one.”

“And you went to school why?”

She laid back down, cuddling into my bed as if she belonged there. And she did. She really f**king did. “I can’t afford to miss classes right now.”

“You can’t afford to neglect your health either.”

She rolled her eyes. Even sick and wasted, she had enough energy to give me sass and attitude. I loved it. Hell, I loved her, but that wasn’t exactly a surprise to me. Not after all the moping I’d been doing ever since I lost her.

“My mom is all the way across the country and I’m single. Who am I supposed to get to take care of me?” she asked.

She didn’t have to be single if she would give me another chance, but I didn’t point that out. “Me.”

“I can’t call you for help anymore.” She stared up at me. “We’re not even really friends.”

My heart wrenched, but I refused to show her how much it hurt for me to follow her rules. I pushed off the bed, heading into the kitchen. “I’ll go make you some chicken broth.”

“I’m not hungry.” She rolled over and curled her knees into the fetal position. “Not even in the slightest.”

I didn’t stop walking. “You need something in your stomach, or it’ll just hurt more when you puke.”

“You don’t have to do this,” she called out, her voice shaking. “I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Yeah, I do. And no, you won’t.”

Because if I didn’t take care of her…

Who would?

Chapter 22

I leaned back in the couch, holding the bowl in the crook of my lap. As I sipped down the chicken broth, I felt immensely better before it even hit my stomach. But even if it hadn’t made me feel better, it was quite easily the most delicious soup I’d ever had. It didn’t even have anything in it. Finn sat beside me on the couch, eating his own plain broth. He still hadn’t put on a shirt, and I still hadn’t stopped thinking about touching him again, even though I felt like I was on death’s door.

I wouldn’t follow through with my thoughts, but it didn’t stop me from wanting.