Sugar

I pressed my fingers to his scalding cheek. “You’re burning up.”

His eyes closed, his face leaning into my touch. “Mmm. Feels good.”

“Come in.” I pulled him into my apartment, and he dutifully followed. “Sit down. I’ll make you some soup.”

He collapsed on my couch and groaned. “Your pillows smell like you.”

I opened a can of basic broth because I wasn’t much of a chef. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“You smell like … cookies … and sunshine. A breeze … on the beach … on a hot August afternoon… Christmas morning…”

My brow quirked at his ramblings. Though he wasn’t making much sense, he definitely wasn’t sticking to the friend zone with those sorts of compliments. Playing it safe, I ignored his description. “This’ll only take a few minutes to heat up. Sorry, I don’t have anything better than broth.”

He didn’t answer.

Once the broth was hot, I added some parsley, because that was always good for the immune system, and poured it into a mug. I carried the steaming cup into the den only to find him out cold, sleeping with his lips slightly parted and his hand curled under his cheek like a little boy.

“Look at you. You’re not a lion or a wolf. You’re just a sick little lamb.”

A glassy, blue eye opened and shut. “Tired.”

I placed the mug on the coffee table and sat in the crook of his hips. My hand pressed to his brow again. He was really hot. “Maybe you should take some aspirin.”

“I’m fine. I don’t get sick.”

“You’re such a man.”

Despite his weak demeanor and exhausted state, he flexed his hips. “Damn right.”

I sighed. This subdued patient was not the Noah I was used to.

“Get some sleep. I have things to do.” I stood.

“Do you love him?” His softly mumbled question stopped me in my tracks, exposing my secrets in a moment of silence.

I frowned, always uncomfortable with the word love. “Who?”

“The guy you were with tonight. He kisses you. I don’t think he’s just business.”

“Noah…” Did I love Micah? He was my confidant and closest … client. But at the end of any day, our association remained defined by business. So why was I dreading the end of said association?

“Don’t love him, Avery.” His words were quiet and slightly slurred. His face was blank, eyes closed and lips hardly moving. “Love me.” Those last two words came out on an almost inaudible breath.

My head tipped. “Do you even know what you’re saying right now?”

“Lay with me.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“Noah.”

His silence told me I’d lost him for the night. Stepping away, I removed my earrings.

“I could love you,” he mumbled. “Better than any of them.”

My heart snagged just as I prepared to escape his presence. “You’re delirious. Try to sleep for a little bit.”

I quickly moved out of the living room to a place where I’d no longer be able to hear his fever induced mumblings. I changed into pajamas, but couldn’t avoid him forever. He needed to get some fluids in his system. Luckily, he mostly slept.

By the end of the night, I got him to drink the broth and finish a bottle of water, but he wasn’t much for conversation, so I suggested he crash on my couch.

Closing the door to my bedroom, I paused, eyeing his still form and suffering a strange sense of awareness. It had been years since anyone slept under the same roof as me. I turned the lock and told myself this was just simple charity, nothing meaningful.

The next morning I was up at dawn and on my way out the door to hit the gym after briefly checking on my sleeping patient. Noah slept in a twisted mess of blankets, one bony foot peeking over the arm of the sofa. I figured it was fine to leave him there.

When I returned from my workout, he was awake and sitting up, drinking something out of a mug.

“You’re awake.”

He watched me but didn’t say anything.

“How do you feel?”

“Better. I barely remember coming here last night. Sorry for passing out on your couch.”

I smiled. “It’s fine.” Leaning in, I placed my hand on his head, and he stilled, his sapphire eyes watching me closely. “Your fever’s gone.”

“I think this is the most you’ve ever touched me. I’m pissed I was too out of it last night to appreciate it.”

I sat on the coffee table across from him. “Last night you were mumbling some pretty weird stuff.”

“Sorry.”

We suffered through an awkward silence. “Noah, I want us to be friends.”

“I want more.”

“I know, but all I can be is your friend right now.”

The arrogant mask was gone, and he looked at me with honest curiosity. “Why?”

“It’s not about you. I don’t date. I work and go to school, and I just want to finish my degree and move on. Dating complicates things.”