Hazed (Palm South University)

Wow, I really am in a sour mood tonight.

A huff of a breath leaves my chest as I scroll a few more times. “Just put the phone down, Jess, and go to bed,” I say to myself, and I’m on track to do just that when the little notification lights up in my messages.

When I click them, my heart freezes at the sight of Jarrett’s name.

I swallow, opening the message like it’s a highly flammable tank of gasoline and I’ve got a match in my hand.

He sent me a link to my post, and then underneath it, there’s just one simple word.

Soup?

My heart picks up its pace from a trot to a gallop, and with a groan, I sit up in bed, staring at his message with two opposing thoughts warring in my head.

No, I should not hang out with my ex-boyfriend.

Well, I’m sick, it’s not like I’m going to do anything sexy right now, no matter who’s around.

Kade wouldn’t like it.

Kade said he’s fine with us being friends.

Kade would be here with you if he could be.

But he’s not.

It’s Jarrett.

It’s just Jarrett, and besides, soup does sound really good…

That last thought wins out, and I type out a response before throwing my phone across the room like it’s a bomb about to go off.

Part of me thinks he won’t even really come. I hear my phone buzz across the room and imagine that he said something along the lines of ha ha, wish I could, feel better. He’s probably out with his friends. He doesn’t have time to bring soup to a friend.

But the other, louder part of me reminds me that Jarrett is nothing if not a man of his word.

It’s only a half hour later that my phone rings, and the front desk tells me I have a visitor.

“Shit!” I mutter after telling them to send him up and hanging up the phone. I jump up out of bed with my body aching, and then I’m in front of my mirror, staring at the absolute wreck of my reflections. “Double shit.”

My half-ass attempt to tame my hair and make myself not look disgusting is subpar at best, but it’s all I’ve got time for before there’s a knock at the front door.

I make my way down the hall, and when I answer the door, Jarrett stands on the other side of it looking like trouble with a capital T.

A cool front whipped through South Florida tonight — probably the last we’ll have, now that we’ve tiptoed into the first day of March. And thanks to that, Jarrett’s bald head is covered with a black and gray beanie, his tattooed arms shielded by a well-fitted leather jacket, and the dark jeans he’s paired it with hug him in all the right places.

Which means I’m thinking all the wrong things.

To top it all off, he’s got bags full of groceries hanging from his arms and a too-sexy-for-his-own-good smile spreading over his perfect lips.

Jesus Christ, I’m screwed.

Jarrett’s eyebrow arches as he takes in the sight of me, and then with that sexy grin still intact, he says, “You look like shit.”

I breathe out a laugh as I hold the door open wider, signaling for him to come in. “I feel even worse.”

“Symptoms?”

“Congested. Sore throat. Body aches.” I sniff on cue when the door shuts behind us. “Generally, feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.”

“Sounds like a virus, alright,” Jarrett says, already unpacking the groceries he brought. “Have you taken any meds?”

“Yeah.”

His pointed look tells me he doesn’t believe me, and when he tosses some cold medicine my way, I laugh.

“Why did you ask when you already knew the answer?”

“Wanted to see if you were still a shit liar.”

We share a smile as he continues unpacking the groceries, and I open the medicine he brought, popping two of the nighttime pills.

Jarrett whistles as he looks around the condo. “This is a sweet pad. You live here by yourself?”

“Erin and Ashlei live here, too. They’re both out tonight, though — Erin is with her study group, and Ashlei is at the pole studio working on her routine for competition. She said they’ll probably all go out after…” I shake my head, taking a seat at one of the barstools at the kitchen island. “Must be nice to not be snotting involuntarily.”

Jarrett laughs. “Honestly, I’m just surprised you posted about your situation. Last time I found out you were sick, it was a very different situation.”

He cocks a brow as I hold up my hands. “Hey, I didn’t want the dude I had major hots for seeing me all disgusting, okay?”

“You also didn’t want to admit that you were falling for me.”

“Shut up and make me soup.”

The laugh that bubbles out of his chest is like music to my ears, a long-forgotten sound that warms my heart like a hot cup of tea. I swallow down the knot building in my throat as I watch him work.