JENNIE
"What's wrong with you?" Lisa snapped about five seconds after coming out of a sit spin—the same sit spin I'd stumbled out of a second before, landing right on my ass. The same one I'd kept losing my balance on the last six times we'd done it. The same spin I could usually do over and over and over again, one variation after another, a flying sit spin, a death drop, with a twist... It was usually no big deal.
Unless your entire body was burning up, every muscle between your knees and chin ached, and your head felt like it was about to explode.
On top of that, my throat was acting like I'd chewed on sandpaper, and just standing up in general was taking everything out of me.
I felt like shit.
Total, complete shit. I had all morning. I was pretty sure I'd woken up in the middle of the night—which I never did—because my head hurt and my throat had burned like I'd swallowed a glass of lava for shits and giggles.
But I hadn't told Lisa or Lee about it.
With only one full day left before we started working on choreography, we didn't have time for me to be sick. Since the morning of the day Lisa and I had watched Nayeon's kids, one thing after another had started acting up. My throat had started tingling, then tingling a little more. Another day my head began to feel weird. Then I started to get tired. Then everything started to ache, until bam. The fever came. And everything else decided to go full-fledged sick.
Ugh.
Flopping onto my back, the groan that came out of me was thanks to how bad my head was pounding. I couldn't remember the last time my balance had been so bad. Never?
"Are you hung over?" Lisa asked from wherever the hell she was.
I started to shake my head and immediately regretted it when the urge to throw up kicked me right in the gut. "No."
"You stayed up last night, didn't you?" she accused, the quiet swish of her blades on the ice telling me she was getting closer. "You can't be coming to practice exhausted."
Rolling over and then coming to my knees, all I had the energy to do was wiggle the fingers on one hand. "I didn't stay up, jackass."
She huffed, the black of her boots coming into view. "You're full of—" I saw her hand reaching for my upper arms too late. So late there was no way, no fucking way based on how shitty I felt, that I could have moved before she touched me. Her hands grabbed me right above the elbows and just as quickly let them go.
I'd been so hot, I had taken off the pullover I had on over my tank top over an hour ago, leaving my arms exposed. If I could have stripped that off too, I would have.
Lisa's hands went to my forearms, gripped them for a second, and let them go too.
"Jennie, what the fuck?" she hissed, her palms going to my cheeks as I just waited there on my hands and knees because I had no energy left. If I could have laid down on the ice in a fetal position, I would have. She cupped my face for a moment, then moved her other hand upward to cover my forehead, cursing so creatively under her breath in Russian, I would've been impressed any other day. "You're burning up."
I groaned at the coolness of her hands on me and whispered, "No shit?"
She ignored my smart-ass comment and palmed the back of my neck, earning her a moan straight out of my mouth. Jesus, it felt good. Maybe I could lay on the ice for a minute.
"She's got a fever?" I faintly heard Coach Lee ask as I started lowering myself slowly down, hands to elbows, then elbows going wide until I was sprawled spread eagle on the ice, my cheek on it, arms and palms flat on it too.
It was cold as hell, but it felt amazing.
I could hear Lisa talking to Lee, their words becoming fainter and fainter by the second.
"Give me a minute," I said as loudly as I could, feeling the coldness on my lips and seriously feeling tempted to lick it.
I didn't. I wasn't sick enough to forget how dirty some people's blades were.
I heard something that sounded like "stubborn" above.
Turning my face to the other side, I let the cold kiss my cheek and sighed. A nap sounded so good. Right here. Right now.
"Never mind, five minutes please," I whispered numbly, trying to reach back toward my neck with one of my hands but too tired to even do that.
"Okay, all right, roll over, Jennie," a feminine voice I was pretty sure belonged to Coach Lee said from somewhere over my head.
"No."
Three minutes. If I could just close my eyes for three minutes….
There was a sigh and then something that had to be fingers at one of my shoulders, pulling and yanking on me. I didn't fight it. I didn't move. But somehow, they rolled me over, and I just let them, flopping over almost painfully until I was on my back with the bright lights at the ceiling forcing me to close my eyes because they made my head worse. I had to grit my teeth to keep from moaning.
"Two minutes, please," I whispered, licking my lips.
"Two minutes my ass," Lisa replied a moment before something started forcing my shoulder upward, tunneling its way across and under my shoulder blades at the same time something else went beneath the backs of my knees, doing the same.
"Just a minute. Come on. I'll get up, promise," I got out as I felt myself being lifted. It wasn't like I could see. I still had my eyes closed and probably would until the lights weren't blinding me.
"I know there's a thermometer in the staff room," it sounded like Coach Lee said. "I'll get it."
"Meet you in my room," I heard Lisa respond, drawing me off the ice and into her chest.
Oh God. She was carrying me.
"Put me down. I'm fine," I croaked, feeling anything but fucking fine as a shiver raced across my arms and spine, making me shake.
"No," was the one and only thing that came out of her mouth.
"I am. I can get through practice…." I trailed off, squeezing my eyes closed as my headache got worse and the urge to throw up did too. "Fuck, Lisa. Put me down. I'm going to throw up."
"You're not going to throw up," she said, carrying me and skating at the same time from the movements of my side against her chest.
"I am."
"No, you're not."
"I don't want to throw up on you," I gasped, this fucking close to gagging as acid flowed around in my stomach.
"I don't care if you do, but I'm not putting you down. Suck it up or swallow it, Meatball," she said with all the comfort and care of my mom. Which was none.
My head throbbed. "I'm going—"
"You're not. Hold it in," this person—my partner—demanded, rocking me against her as she started walking and not skating.
"I'll feel better if I throw up," I whispered, the sound of my own voice irritating me. My throat irritating me even more. But I couldn't be sick. We didn't have time. "Let me, then we can get back to practice. I can take a Tylenol—"
"We're not practicing anymore today," she let me know in that annoying snobby voice. "Or tomorrow."
That had me groaning as I tried to lift my head, which was against her shoulder, and realized I couldn't even do that. I was gone. Jesus Christ. "We have to."
"No, we don't."
I swallowed and licked my dry lips, but it didn't do anything. "We can't take time off."
"Yes, we can."
"Lisa."
"Jennie."
"Lisa," I basically moaned, not in the mood for this shit. My shit or hers.
"We're not practicing anymore, so stop bringing it up."
We only had a day left. Choreography was supposed to start tomorrow. I started trying to roll up, engaging ab muscles that had decided to take a vacation, and… couldn't. Oh my God, I couldn't do shit.
Lisa sighed. "I'll put you down in a minute. Quit squirming," she ordered, still carrying me, still walking effortlessly, her breathing steady and even as she held me up in her arms.
I was going to blame being dizzy and exhausted on why I did what she said. And why I let my head rest against that curve between her shoulder and neck. I didn't need to wrap my arms around her neck. There was no chance in hell she would drop me. This was nothing for her.
"Is your mom at work?" Lisa asked me quietly a moment later.
"No, she—she went on vacation with Ben to Hawaii," I replied, weakly, just faintly taking in how quickly I'd gone downhill. Another shiver slid through my whole body, and I shook even harder than I had any time before. Damn it. "I'm sorry, Lisa."
"For what?" she asked, tipping her head down to look at me from the way I felt her breath on my cheek.
I pressed my forehead against her cool neck and let out my own breath, dismissing the lines between her brows as aggravation, just noticing my shivering was going nonstop. "For getting sick. It's my fault. I never get sick." Another hard case of the shakes went straight from my shoulders down my spine.
"It's fine."
"It's not. We can't take the time off. Maybe I can take something, nap, and we can train again this evening," I offered, each word coming out longer and more drawn out than the last. "I'll stay as long as you want."
From the way her neck moved, she had to be shaking her head. "No."
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm really sorry."
She didn't say a word. Didn't tell me it was fine. Didn't tell me to shut up again. And I was too wiped to argue with her more.
But it was in no time, that she was walking us into her room at the Manoban Complex and then gently—so, so gently—depositing me on the couch so I could lay across it. I shook again, hot and cold at the same time, my back hurting even more than it had a few seconds ago. Putting my hands up to cover my face, I held back a moan.
This was what dying felt like. It had to be.
"You're not dying, dumbass," Lisa said a second before something was laid over my body and two seconds before something cold and wet was draped over my forehead.
Did she just…
Yes, she had covered me with a blanket and put a wet towel on my forehead.
"Thanks," I had the clarity to say as I lay there, knowing I should wrap my head around what she'd done but feeling too much like shit to do so. Later, later, I could appreciate how nice she was being. But right then, it felt like my head was going to explode.
Lisa didn't reply, but I did hear some other noises going on in the background, and at some point later, maybe seconds, maybe minutes, there was movement by my feet. A few seconds after that, one of my skates came off and then the next. I didn't ask her to be careful with them. I didn't say anything.
Then she said, "Sit up, Meatball."
Obviously, she didn't feel bad enough for me to not call me that.
I did, or at least I tried to sit up, but my body wasn't functioning. It needed things: rest. Sleep. A good vomit. Some Tylenol. A cold bath and then a hot one. All of those things in no particular order.
She made some sound that came out like a huff, then her hand went to the back of my neck, lifting it and my head higher.
And then she slipped onto the couch.
And laid my head back down… on her thigh.
"Drink this," she ordered as something smooth and hard touched my bottom lip.
I opened my eye to see her holding a glass to my mouth. I reached toward it, weak, so damn weak, taking it from her because it was one thing to lay my head on her lap, but it was another thing to let her hold up a glass of water for me. I took a sip and then another one, my throat closing up around each drink in protest from how sore it felt.
"Swallow this too," she said afterward, holding up two white tablets in her hand.
I glanced at her beautiful, stupid face.
And she rolled her eyes. "It's not arsenic."
I still looked at her.
"I'm not going to poison you until after worlds, all right?" she added, not sounding anywhere near as much of a smart-ass as she usually did.
Closing both my eyes at once in a way I hoped she took as "okay," I opened my mouth and let her drop the tablets on my tongue, chasing them down with three painful gulps. Dropping my head back onto Lisa's thigh, I closed my eyes. "Thanks," I mumbled.
There was an "uh-huh" that I definitely heard in reply. What had to be fingers touched my hair, moving around my head. Gentle, gentle… until they started tugging.
"Oww," I hissed, opening an eye to find her hunched over me, staring down with a frustrated expression, as she yanked on my hair again.
"What is this?" she hissed, pulling some more.
I flinched when she did it again. "A scrunchie?"
She pulled, but not tugging as many hairs out with that attempt. Just like a hundred. "It's so tight."
"No shit," I croaked, not sure if she even heard me.
She made a face and gave my hair one last tug before pulling the band—and another two hundred strands of hair—out, holding them up victoriously. "How do you not get headaches using this?" she asked, looking at the black elastic like it was some crazy shit she had never seen before.
How had she not seen a scrunchie before with the other women she'd been partnered up with over the years? Ugh. I'd worry about it later. "Sometimes I do," I whispered up to her. "I don't exactly have a choice."
She frowned at my explanation and then dropped her hand, making the band disappear for a moment before it was back and she was empty-handed. Closing my eyes once more, I felt her fingers go back to my hair and start stroking it away from my face and what had to be over her lap. It felt good, her thigh under my head, her fingers in my hair, and I couldn't help the sigh I let out as she did it.
I might have dozen off, but the next thing I knew, something was poking at my lips, and I opened my eyes to find my head still on Lisa and a big hand holding a thermometer right in my face. She raised her eyebrows expectantly, so I opened my mouth and let her put the blue stick in, closing my lips afterward.
"She needs to go to the doctor," Lisa claimed, looking over at where Coach Lee was sitting… which was on top of the coffee table, with a worried expression on her face. I hadn't heard her come in.
Then I processed the word Lisa had used: doctor.
"I agree," our coach replied, already digging into her pocket to take out her phone. "I'll call Dr. Deng and then the Simmons to reschedule."
Lisa glanced down and gave me a stern look. "Don't say you're sorry." Then, before I could get out a word, she told the other woman, "Tell her it's urgent. I'll take her as soon as she has an opening. And tell the Simmons to keep their schedules open. I'll make sure they're taken care of for their time."
She nodded, already pulling her phone to peck at the screen.
Meanwhile, I shook my head, waiting for the thermometer to beep so I could talk. Coach Lee was on hold when the device finally did. The display read 103.7. Great.
"No doctor," I said, to both of them when Lisa took the thermometer out of my hand to get a look at the reading.
Those brown eyes flicked toward me for all of two seconds before going back to the thermometer.
"Lisa, no doctor."
"You're going to the doctor," she let me know, her face tensing as she took in the number on the screen before saying to Lee, "Tell them her fever is almost 104."
I licked my lips uselessly and looked up at her, the whole hot-cold thing making me want to kick off the blanket on top of me but also drag it up higher to my neck. "No doctor." I swallowed, closed my eyes for a moment, and said, "Please."
Lisa's hand stroked my loose hair, and she gazed down at me. "Do you want to feel better or not?"
I tried to give her an ugly look but couldn't get my face to work. "No, I love feeling like shit and missing training and screwing everything up."
Both those thick eyebrows went up like "no shit."
"Forget about it. You're going to the doctor. If you need medicine, you need it the sooner the better." She pursed her lips for a moment and then added, "So we can get back to the choreography. When you're ready."
This fucker. She knew exactly how to get me. Jesus.
"Look, I need today, tomorrow—"
"We're taking it off." She blinked. "Why don't you want to go to the doctor?" She squinted. "I swear, if you're scared of needles—"
I moaned and started to shake my head before stopping myself when the pain there triggered my nausea. "I'm not scared of needles, who do you think I am? You?" I whispered.
Coach Lee was talking quietly on the phone, but neither one of us was paying her any attention.
"All right. You're going to the doctor."
I closed my eyes and told her the truth because she'd get it out of me eventually and I wasn't in the mood for her to nag. "I don't have insurance. I can't afford a visit right now. Seriously, I'll be fine. Just give me a day. It'll pass. My immune system is usually great."
Lisa's lips moved. She blinked. She glanced up and then looked back down before shaking her head, her voice rising from a mutter. "You stubborn ass…."
"Fuck off," I whispered.
Lisa hissed, "You fuck off. I'll pay for your doctor's visit and medication. Don't be an idiot."
I closed my mouth and swallowed the ache in my throat and the painful stab in my chest at her choice of words. "I'm not an idiot. Call me whatever you want other than an idiot."
She either chose to ignore me or just didn't care. "You're an idiot, and we're going to the doctor. Don't let your pride get in the way of you getting better."
That's how bad I felt that I didn't even argue with her. She had a point, unfortunately. I just closed my eyes and said, "Fine. But I'll pay you back." I swallowed. "It might take me a year."
Lisa muttered something under her breath that didn't sound very nice, but her palm stroked my hair some more, brushing through the strands like the last thing she wanted to do was hurt me. For once. It was nice.
"They can see her at noon," Coach Lee finally said. "We need to reduce her fever in the meantime. Did you give her a painkiller already?"
"Yes," the person whose thigh I had my head on replied.
They whispered some other words to each other, words too low for me to care about while I was debating if I could offer to pay Lisa to keep running her fingers through my hair, when I felt a tap to my cheek. "Hmm?"
"Time to get up," Lisa whispered. "You need a shower."
Get up? "No, thank you."
There was a pause and then, "I'm not asking. Get up."
"I don't want to get up," I whined.
"Okay," she agreed too easily. "I'll carry you in."
"No thanks."
Her hand stroked over my head, then picked at the corner of the towel over my forehead and peeled it off, brushing her fingers over the skin there with those hands I knew so well that had never been so gentle before. Her voice was low as she said, "I know you don't want to, and I know you feel bad, but you need to get up, little hedgehog. You need to cool down."
I groaned and ignored her h-word.
Lisa sighed, but her hand still petted my hair. "Come on. Get up for me."
"No."
There was a snicker and another stroke. "I wouldn't have thought you were a baby when you got sick," she said, sounding amused I thought but wasn't sure because I was too busy trying to zone out how shitty I felt.
"Uh-huh," I agreed, because my mom had always said the same thing. What a crybaby. I didn't get sick often. It wasn't like I tried to milk attention… even if she would have given it to me. But she was always more worried about my sister than me having a little cold or cough, and I'd never cared.
"Are you going to get up?" she asked, palming my forehead with a hiss I wasn't so sick to not know it meant my skin was hot.
"No," I said again, rolling onto my side so that my cheek was pressed to her thigh and my nose was at her hip. Her crotch was right there, but her dick could have been out and I wouldn't have cared.
"You're not going to get up on your own?"
"No."
There was a pause and a definite sound of amusement when she finally grated out, "If you insist."
I insisted. I really insisted, especially as another shiver racked through my entire body, my spine aching in that way it only did after a bad season and real illness. I wasn't getting up.
But Lisa had other plans.
Plans that involved her sliding out from under me while I groaned in protest at the loss of the most uncomfortable pillow I'd ever laid my head on, but beggars can't be choosers so I'd take that hard thigh any day. Those plans were then followed up by two arms sliding into the same spots they'd been in minutes before: supporting my shoulder blades and the underside of my knees. Then, she lifted me and started walking, each step solid and balanced.
And I didn't argue. Not even a little bit.
It might shame me later that I didn't even try and help her with my weight to ease the load; instead I just lay there like a kid being carried to bed after a long car ride, with my head resting against her shoulder while I shivered some more. I could have walked, of course I could have. But I didn't fucking want to. Not when she was so willing to help me out.
And just feeling her warm, hard body against me made me feel a little better.
In no time at all, she opened a door I hadn't noticed before, leading us into a bathroom. It wasn't anything fancy, just a shower stall with a sink and toilet. Lisa squatted and slowly let me get to my feet, where a head rush made me dizzy.
"You need a cold shower," she said, stabilizing me with the arm around my shoulders.
"Ugh," I mumbled, closing my eyes. She was right. I knew from the rare times I'd seen other people with high fevers how dangerous it could be. I didn't need to lose any more brain cells. Another shiver tore through my body, and that had Lisa letting go of me and stepping around to turn the handle on the shower.
"Come on," she urged.
I tried lifting my arms but let them drop when they didn't move much more than an inch away from my body. Fuck. I was more exhausted than I could ever remember being before.
With a swallow, I opened my eyes again and thought, Fuck it. I'll go in fully clothed. I had a change in my bag. Lee or Lisa could grab it for me. Doing my best impersonation of every single member of my family on Christmas, I stumbled forward, squinting my eyes because the bright overhead light was goddamn blinding.
But two steps before just walking right into the stall with my socks still on, Lisa's arm went up, parallel to the floor, and blocked me from going any further. "What are you doing?" she asked.
I peeked at her. "Going in?"
"You're fully clothed."
"No energy to take my clothes off," I said, sounding hoarse.
I didn't miss the way she rolled her eyes. "I'll help you."
"Okay," I whispered, not thinking twice about it. Why would I? She'd had her hands all over my body daily, had already seen me basically naked, seen me half-dressed, and in skintight clothes. We were past being self-conscious.
She hesitated for a moment… and then smiled a little. She took a step to the side to stand in front of me, that funny, small smile on her face, and she reached for the bottom of my tank. And before either one of us could overthink it, she pulled it up over my head.
Unlike some other girls I knew with little to no chests in figure skating, I always wore a sports bra. I liked the support. They didn't need to be moving around the place when I was upside down, even if there was hardly anything that moved.
And if Lisa was surprised that I wasn't braless under my clothes, it didn't show on her face.
Then again, if she was, I barely had my eyes open so I might have missed it.
But her hands continued their path down until she got to the top of my tights, and taking a knee, she stripped those down my legs. Just as I was about to try and toe my socks off, still down there, she picked up one of my legs with one hand, and with the other, pulled off the thin socks and bandages I'd put on that morning, dragging the flat of her thumb over the arch before lowering my foot and picking the other one up. She did the same to it, her eyes lingering on my toes if I was seeing correctly, and if I'd had the energy, I would have scrunched up my sparkle pink nail polished toes. The fact that she glanced up at me and smiled, kind of threw me off, but I didn't let my thoughts linger there. My stomach gave a roll, and I just barely managed not to throw up the breakfast I'd forced down that morning.
Lisa snickered as she gave my heel a squeeze and dropped my foot. "In you go, champ."
I was dead asleep when something—or someone—hit my forehead. Hard.
Then that something—or someone—hit me three more times, one right after the other. It was the fact that there was a rhythm to it that had me snapping my eyes open.
Someone was knocking on my forehead.
And that someone was Lisa.
Lisa who was leaning over me, her fist held just a couple inches away from my face. She was smirking. At me.
"Wake up, Outbreak monkey. It's time for your next Tylenol."
I blinked. Then I looked at the ceiling behind her, trying to remember what the hell was happening. It was then, as I was wondering that, that my head reminded me it was still hurting. Still hurting. I shivered, a reminder that I'd had a fever. More than likely still had one if the tremor that went through my body meant anything.
I was sick. The doctor had said it was a virus. Lisa had driven me there, then afterward, taken me to the pharmacy, where I'd sat in the car, shaking from hot to cold, to buy a bottle of Tylenol because I couldn't remember how much I had. Then, she'd taken me home. Home to an empty house because my mom and Ben were gone, enjoying the beach and doing fun shit I would love to do.
Instead, I was in my room, under the covers, having my forehead used as a bongo drum by someone who was clearly enjoying it.
"What time is it?" I asked, trying to scoot up toward the headboard while I blinked, just barely noticing how raspy and hoarse my voice sounded. It was even worse than it had been before.
"Time for you to take your Tylenol," she replied, shaking the fist she'd been using to knock on me.
I groaned and tried to roll to my side so I could go back to sleep, but she grabbed my shoulder and moved me back to lay the way I'd been.
"Two more and then you can go back to sleep," she tried to compromise with me.
"No."
Those glacier eyes stayed locked on me, her facial expression still a happier one than I ever would have bet on. Her voice though, didn't sound so playful. "Take the pills, Jennie."
I closed my eyes and moaned at how much my back and shoulders ached. "No."
I could see the sigh she let out in her shoulders. "Take the damn pills. Your fever still hasn't broken," she ordered, still holding on to my shoulder because she knew damn well the second I got a chance, I'd try to roll over again. Ugh. Was I that predictable?
"My throat hurts," I whispered, using that against her.
She sighed again, shaking her fist once more. "I'm not buying you children's Tylenol. Take the pills."
I closed one eye and left the other one open as I whispered, "I don't want to."
I'd swear on my life, Lisa flashed a smile so quick, it was there and then it was gone. Back to normal. Back to trying to boss me around for my own good. "You need them," she reminded me.
I just stared at her with my one eye.
"No?"
"No," I said, just barely loud enough for her to hear.
Her jaw twitched, and her gaze narrowed. "Your mom warned me you're a pain in the ass when you're sick."
She would say exactly that, that didn't surprise me. I was a whiney little bitch when I was sick. It was true. So I didn't waste my words and throat on agreeing.
What I did wonder was… when the hell had she talked to my mom?
And just as soon as I wondered that, I decided I didn't give a shit.
Then it hit me. "I forgot to call—"
"Your mom called your boss for you," she cut me off. "Now take them."
"No."
"You want to play this game, we can play this game," she replied easily, making me suddenly wonder if I was screwing up. She kept going. "You're going to take them."
I swallowed and winced at the ache that answered that action.
The blink she gave me put me on edge instantly. Then her words confirmed that tiny worry she'd given me. Her voice was low as she said, "You're going to take them, or I'm going to make you take them."
Ugh.
"Bitch," I whispered.
She beamed at me, literally beamed, fully aware that we both knew her threat wasn't in vain. Not at all. Not even a little bit. "You ready then?"
I opened my mouth, shooting her the nastiest look I was capable of while basically looking like a baby bird, and watched as she moved her hand over my face and dropped the pills into my mouth a moment before handing over a glass of water. Three small sips later, I swallowed the medicine and handed the glass back over. She took it and set it on the nightstand, before turning to me from where she'd been sitting on the edge of my bed the whole time.
"You feeling any better?" she asked.
"Little," I whispered, because I was. Just a little. My headache wasn't as bad, and even though I knew I had a fever, I was pretty sure it had to have gone down some. At least that's what I hoped. I had to get better as soon as possible. That I hadn't forgotten.
Lisa gave me a microscopic smile, her fingers coming back to touch my forehead with the backs of them, gentle, gentle, gentle. "Your fever has gone down. It was down to 102 when I checked it an hour ago."
She'd checked it an hour ago? God, I was out of it.
Lisa flipped her hand over and touched my cheek with the tips of those cold fingers. "You want another wet towel for your head?"
"No," I answered before adding, "thank you."
That got me another little smile. "You want anything?"
"To feel better."
"You'll be better tomorrow," she said.
"I have to."
She rolled those eyes. "No, but you will," she claimed, scooting her hip further into the bed. "There's some soup for you downstairs."
I couldn't stop the frown from coming onto my face. "You made it?"
"Don't look at me like I'm trying to poison you. If I wanted to, I would have done it already." She grazed my forehead with the tip of her finger. "Your brother's husband brought it over."
Now that time, I did smile, thinking of sweet, wonderful Chanyeol. "He makes the best soup."
"It smelled good. He wanted to see you, but you were sleeping."
I pulled the top of the comforter up, my muscles protesting that movement alone, but somehow I got it to go up the two inches to reach my chin. "He's the best."
That made her blink. "You think somebody's the best?"
"He is," I said. "My mom is too. So is my sister, Nayeon. My sister Jisoo when she isn't having girl problems." I thought about it and swallowed again. "Lee's pretty cool. My brothers are too, I guess. Bobby's great. He can be on the list too."
Lisa made a noise, then scooted even further into the bed. I watched her and slid to the side to give her more room, wondering what the hell she was doing. Her hand landed on the spot over the covers where my elbow was tucked inside, and she asked, almost hesitating, which wasn't at all like her, "And your dad?"
That's how crappy I felt that I couldn't even get mad at the mention of my dad's name. Or disappointed, which said something too. But I told her the truth. "Not to me."
I'd barely gotten the words out when her eyes sliced in my direction.
But she didn't ask why I thought that, and I was genuinely relieved. She was the last person I wanted to talk about. If not the last, then in the top three. Top four for sure.
"Anyone else on the list?" she asked after an awkward second while I'd been thinking about my dad.
"No."
I didn't miss the casual look she slipped me before mentioning, "I've won two gold medals."
"You don't say," I muttered sarcastically, watching her continue to shift on my mattress until her right side faced me.
"Yeah," she answered just as sarcastically. "Not one. Two. A few world championships too."
"What does that have to do with anything?" I croaked, my throat demanding water, as she then began to scoot backward until her spine met up with the headboard, just like mine had.
Lisa kicked her legs into the air, toeing off one fancy black leather boot after another, letting each thump to ground. "Some people think I'm the best."
"Who?" I snorted weakly as I watched her settle her legs onto the bed, crossing one ankle over the other, showing me the purple and pink striped socks she had on.
She angled her upper body just enough so she could watch me with both eyes, chin to her T-shirt-covered chest. "Lots of people."
I gasped, immediately regretting it because it made my throat ache. "I mean… I guess you're pretty cool too."
Those ebony eyebrows went up. "You guess?"
"I guess. Your skating is pretty good. And you've been really nice to me today. Yesterday. I don't even know what day it is," I mumbled. "You can be on the list too, if you're going to make it awkward."
"Don't sound so excited."
I laughed, wincing as I did it, and eyed the long body beside mine, the fingers knit on her chest that had at some point been running through my hair while I'd been at my worst. And without thinking about it, I scooted closer to her, wanting the touching again, wanting affection, lining up our hips and making my legs rest against the sides of her even under the covers. I swallowed, knowing somewhere inside of me she wouldn't tease me about wanting to be closer to her, and tipped my head to the side, resting it on her shoulder. We had been closer than this every hour of the day for the last two months. It didn't mean anything, I told myself. It didn't mean a single thing. And that's what I was going to go with, regardless of the knowledge that I had never, ever done something like this with bitch-ass Kai.
"You are the best," I told her, sounding about as weak as I felt, "at pairs skating."
Something landed softly on my head as she snickered, and I figured she was resting her head or cheek on top of mine. "Thanks for making sure to clarify that."
I laughed some more, the sting totally worth it. "You've been a good friend to me so far, but I really only have your sister to compare you to."
"Hmm," she sighed, shifting in her spot beside me, before slipping her arm over my shoulder unexpectedly. It wasn't like I was going to complain. It was warm and heavy, and I liked the way it made me feel: cocooned. Safe. I liked it a lot. "That's true."
"She used to let me borrow her clothes before she grew eight inches and left me behind. But she can't pick me up like you do."
Her laugh was soft as she agreed. "You've got a point, Meatball. I'm easier to look at though."
I couldn't help the snort that I instantly regretted. "You're so annoying."
"You keep saying that."
I smiled against her shoulder and heard a huff of air that told me she was more than likely doing the same exact thing. "You don't have to stay, you know."
"I know. Your mom said your sister or brothers could come check on your grumpy ass until she gets back," she let me know.
I made a face. "She calls Jisoo throwing saltine crackers and Gatorade into my room taking care of me. I'd rather be by myself."
"No Gatorade and no saltine crackers. That's the last thing you need," she said. "Sugar and pointless carbs won't do anything."
Leave it to Lisa to judge every ounce of nutrition that went into my mouth.
"Now I definitely can't leave you, if that's what will happen if I do," she whispered.
I snickered.
"I don't mind staying a little while longer, but I need to go home later, at least for an hour."
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I registered that she had to leave to go do something. Just like she had when she'd babysat Jessie and Benny with me, and just like when she'd eaten dinner at my mom's. But I didn't focus or question what and why she had to leave. I was too tired.
"You can go now if you want."
"No, it's only five, Meatball," she replied. "I've got hours. It's fine."
"I'm sure you have better things to do."
The arm over my shoulder went down, and Lisa's hand went to my shoulder, cupping it before going up and down my upper arm, one stroke up, one stroke down. "Be quiet and go back to sleep, all right?"
Sleep? It sounded wonderful. Just fucking awesome.
Without arguing, I closed my eyes, and asked with an exhale after I got a whiff of the light cologne she wore every day without fail, "Do you do this for all your partners? Or just the ones you're stuck with for a year?"
Beneath my cheek, her body tensed and stayed tense even as she answered. "Stop running your mouth and go back to sleep, would you?"
I moved my palm just enough so that it lay directly over the flat, solid slabs called her abs. I'd seen them a hundred times in glimpses here and there when she'd take off her sweater, or reach up to stretch or scratch her stomach… but I hadn't touched them. Not once in more than brushes. But they were just as hard as they looked.
"You really don't have to stay," I repeated myself again as exhaustion weighed heavy on my eyes, trying to give her an opening.
She sighed, and I sensed her shaking her head. "Nobody else is going to take as good of care of you as I will." She had a point, didn't she? The faster I got better, the better it would be for her. For both of us.
If that was disappointment in my belly, I ignored it. It didn't matter. She was here now, doing what nobody else would want to do.
"Before you fall asleep again, where's your remote?" she asked.
Reaching behind me blindly, I grabbed the remote off the other nightstand and then dropped it on her stomach.
And I passed the fuck out.
Something warm touched my mouth later, and I'd swear I heard, "Drink it, baby," whispered to me.
And I drank it all. Whatever the hell it was.
I woke up at one point, sensing my head on something hard, and peeked my eyes open enough to find that I had my head on a lap, my arm thrown over kneecaps. The television was on softly, and the comforter I'd crawled under had been kicked down to the bottom of the bed.
I was sweating. Hot. But somehow I managed to fall back asleep.
"Jennie," a familiar voice whispered into my ear, stroking my hair and then arm. "I need to go home."
I felt like shit. All I could do was mutter, "Okay."
Lisa's familiar hand stroked my hair, my arm, my wrist, lingering there. "Your cell is right next to you. Your mom said someone would come check on you. Call me if you need anything though, all right?"
"Uh-huh," was all I managed to get out before her fingers, or her hand, left my wrist.
"I'll be here in the morning," she said, something warm and damp touching my forehead so lightly and quickly, I thought I might have imagined it.
"Thanks," I whispered in my one moment of clarity, my throat parched.
"I left you water on both nightstands. Drink up."
Something else touched my forehead, and I sighed an, "Okay, Lisa." Then, I rolled over and went back to sleep.