With his first attempt to rile Jeremy up failing, Reg tried a different tack. “Don’t think the whole ‘I sleep naked’ threat is going to warn me off, either.” Hell, that was an incentive.
When no sound came from behind the door, Reg rolled his eyes and started walking toward it, stomping as loudly as he could to signal his approach. A buzzing sound stopped him in his tracks. Both of their phones were charging on the desk in the corner, and Jeremy’s was vibrating and lighting up. Reg turned on his heel and retrieved the phone. Though he wouldn’t answer it, he’d happily deliver Jeremy’s phone to him… while he jumped up and down on his bed being as loud and obnoxious as necessary to get the man up.
“The river is calling and so is your manager,” Reg yelled as he walked over to Jeremy’s door. Palming the knob, he turned it and slowly pushed the door open. Squinting and blinking, he tried to adjust to the pitch black room. “How many hours sleep can one little guy need?”
When Jeremy once again didn’t respond to his mocking, Reg started to worry. No way would Jeremy stand for being called a little guy. Even if, compared to Reg, that was exactly what he was.
“JJ?” He walked over to the drawn curtains and pulled them open a bit so he could see. “Are you okay?”
The lump in the bed moved and moaned. It wasn’t the usual “I’m tired” moans, which Reg was used to. Not the “I’m drunk” groans either. This was a new noise, and it sounded pained. Immediately, Reg hurried over to the bed, his plan to tease Jeremy forgotten with the realization that something might be wrong with his friend.
“What’s going on? Pull the blanket off your head and look at me.” Reg reached the bed just as the sheet and comforter slid off Jeremy’s face.
“Don’t feel good,” Jeremy mumbled. The puffy eyes, pale skin, and weak voice told Reg this wasn’t an attempt at sleeping in.
Worried, Reg dropped the phone on the mattress and pushed Jeremy’s now-bleached-blond hair off his forehead, letting his palm linger. “Crap. You’re burning up.”
“I think I’m sick.” Grass green eyes blinked up at him. Jeremy always made sure to have eyeliner in place before he went somewhere he might be photographed, but it was morning, so his eyes were liner free.
The corners of Reg’s mouth tilted up as he got an image of what Jeremy might have been like as a little boy. “Yeah, you are.” He continued gently petting Jeremy’s hair, which was soft without all the gel he used to spike it up. “How bad is it?”
Jeremy shrugged and pouted.
Reg’s smile got bigger. “Does it feel like a cold, or should I call a doctor?”
Moving his head from side to side, Jeremy said, “Don’t need a doctor.”
“Okay. You stay here all cuddled up.” Reg straightened the sheets and comforter and tucked them under Jeremy’s chin. “And I’ll go get you some Tylenol and juice.” Unable to resist, he brushed his hand over Jeremy’s hair again. “Sound good?”
“What about the rafting trip?” Jeremy swallowed hard. “I know you were looking forward to it. Do you—” He looked down and bit his lower lip. “—want to go ahead? I’ll be fine here.”
“No way. What kind of pretend boyfriend would I be if I abandoned you while you were sick?”
Jeremy shrugged again, this time glancing at Reg from underneath his lashes.
“I’ll tell you what kind—a crappy one.” Reg straightened up and smoothed out his shirt. “And I am an awesome pretend boyfriend, so you know that isn’t happening.” He winked. “Sit tight, superstar. I’ll be back in a flash.”
WHEN REG returned to the room with a tray of juice, water, and medicine, Jeremy’s bed was empty. “JJ?” He set the tray on the edge of the bed and looked around.
“In here,” Jeremy’s weak voice sounded from the bathroom.
“Everything okay?” He stepped over and stood outside the door. “Can I come in?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Slowly, Reg tipped the door open and walked into the huge, opulent bathroom. The size of the space rivaled his old apartment, except it was much fancier.
“JJ?” he said again when a fast glance showed gleaming marble, sparkling chrome fixtures, and fluffy towels, but no Jeremy. A rustling sound and a moan drew his attention to the corner, where Jeremy’s feet were sticking out of the doorway leading to the toilet. “What are you doing?”
“I’m working out.”
His brow furrowed, Reg said, “You’re what?” and he rushed over to Jeremy.
“You know that exercise where you’re hunched over the toilet, getting a second look at your dinner?” Jeremy was sitting on the floor, slumped against the wall, with his head resting on the edge of the toilet. “I did two sets of that one.”
“Well, you can’t be that bad off if you’re cracking jokes.”