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“I’m going to change,” I said. The dress I’d worn to the theater was tight, and it felt like it was suffocating me. I probably would have had a shower too if Noah wasn’t here, but the thought of trying to shower with him in the room felt far too intimate.

I quickly rifled through my bag and pulled out my pajamas before disappearing into the bathroom. When I caught a look at myself in the mirror I cringed. My skin was sickly pale, my hair was lank, and my eyes were bloodshot. I would have been mortified by Noah seeing me this way if I felt well enough to care.

I brushed my teeth, washed my face. and pulled my hair back, which all helped me feel slightly more human. When I returned to the room, Noah was sitting on Anna’s bed, and he smiled as he caught a look at my pajamas.

“Winnie the Pooh?” he asked, nodding at the print.

I hadn’t really thought about the state of my pajamas when I’d put them on, but as Noah’s eyes slowly trailed over them, I realized just how short the shorts were and how the top was so old it was almost see-through.

They were the only pajamas I’d brought though. They also happened to be the comfiest thing I owned. I’d snuck into my room and grabbed them when Noah and I had visited my mom a few weeks ago. Of course, Matthew’s stylist, who had filled my closet at school, had provided a pair of luxurious silk PJs. But they never felt quite right on me, and I was able to sleep so much more soundly when I was tucked up in something from home. “He was my favorite growing up,” I explained.

“Me too,” he murmured, but his voice was so quiet I wondered if perhaps I’d imagined him saying it.

His eyes tracked me as I made my way across the room. Under any other circumstance I might have been embarrassed to have him in here with me. To let him see me in my old Winnie the Pooh PJs while I looked like something that had just crawled out of the Upside Down. But I didn’t have it in me to care. I pulled back the sheets of my bed and slipped under the covers.

My stomach was still clenching as I curled up under the duvet, and I really hoped it wasn’t gearing up for a second date with the toilet bowl. I turned to look at Noah. He was still watching me from the edge of Anna’s bed.

“Do you want me to call down to see if the front desk has anything for the nausea?” he asked. “Even some dry crackers might help.”

“No, I’ll be okay. I just need to rest.”

He didn’t seem happy with my answer. I got the feeling Noah hated sitting by and doing nothing. He didn’t complain and gave me a brief nod before he glanced away. His gaze roamed the rest of the room as though he wasn’t sure what to do or where to look.

I rolled over in bed and tried to get comfortable but then immediately rolled back. I squirmed around trying to find a relaxing position, but no matter how I arranged myself, I felt restless. I closed my eyes, hoping it would help, but with my eyes shut, I only noticed more clearly how my head pounded and my mouth tasted like acid.

I let out a sigh and focused on Noah. He was staring at the wall across from him, deep in thought. He seemed different tonight. Less bitter than our recent encounters, and I almost sensed that he was resigned to our fate. He was probably just being nicer to me because I was sick and he felt the need to look after me. I had to admit it was so much easier to be around him when we weren’t focused on the painful aftermath of our breakup.

For a moment, I considered pressing him for answers about what happened between our families. I’d had little luck pulling an explanation out of him so far, but something about his attitude tonight made me feel like he might be more open to talking. We certainly had the time if he was going to insist on staying with me. Still, I was nervous to ask. What if he rejected me again?

“Noah?” I asked.

“Mm?”

“Tell me what happened.”

His eyes snapped to me.

“Between our families. What happened?”

He sat up a little straighter, and his eyes darkened in response. “We shouldn’t be talking about this,” he said. “You need to rest.”

“Iamresting,” I replied. “And I know you’re worried about how I’ll react, but that’s my decision to make. I want an explanation. I deserve it.”

Noah let out a long sigh, and from the way he watched me, I could see he was trying to figure out the best way to put me off.

“Is it really that bad?” I asked.

“It's...complicated.”

“You won’t tell me because it’s complicated?”

“I won’t tell you because I don’t want to be the one who ruins the relationship you’re trying to build with your dad.”

I propped myself up on my pillow. “Well, that’s only more reason to tell me,” I said. “If my father isn’t a good person, I don’t want to build a relationship with him. But I can’t do that if I don’t have all the information...”

He still looked hesitant, and I had a feeling my attempt at getting answers out of him was going to be futile yet again.

“Please, Noah…”