Page 73 of Let's Talk About Love

Alice misaligned her jaw, exhaling in a miserable huff. “Apparently not.”

“Hey, did you and Feenie ever actually talk about what happened at the party?”

“No. We’ve sort of just glossed over it.” She also realized she’d done the same thing with him. Ryan and Feenie were a couple, but they were also individuals.

“I think you should,” he said softly. “She’s still mad.”

“I know, but I don’t getwhy. It’s not fair—why does everything always have to be the way she wants it? It’s like she doesn’t care about my feelings.”

He sighed—his expression was so pained it made Alice’s stomach flip. “You really need to talk to her.”

***

TAKUMI’S EYES WEREbloodshot—the reddened skin around them swollen and drooping.

“Are you okay?” Alice asked.

“Yeah,” he said, completely stuffed up. “I think I might be sick.”

“Might be?” She laughed.

“What time is it?” He rubbed his eyes and stepped back to let her inside. “I was asleep.”

She slipped off her shoes in the entryway. Boxes, Bubble Wrap, and packing tape had commandeered the corner between the couch and the sliding glass door that led to the balcony, but he hadn’t actually begun packing.

“Guess this means I have to take care of you.” She smiled, more than willing to help nurse him back to health.

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” He sighed, coughed, and cleared his throat. And then closed the door behind her anyway.

(He totally wanted her to stay.)

(Obviously. Of course he did.)

Ryan the Meddler had her on edge. Everything was fine. Takumi was actually sick, not hiding something from her. He leaned against the door, breathing heavily, as if the movement used up the last dregs of energy he had. She had the feeling if he let go he’d fall over.

“Just don’t breathe on me and infect me with your germs.” She reached up, placing a hand on his forehead, and had to stop herself from sayingyeesh—his skin flamed under her palm. “You wouldn’t happen to have a thermometer, would you?”

He shook his head. She touched his cheeks with the backs of her hands. “Okay, you. In bed. Now.” She helped guide him to his bedroom.

“You really don’t have to take care of me. I’ll survive. Somehow.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” She giggled. “But if you want me to leave, I will.”

Takumi climbed back into bed. She pulled the covers up to his chin and tucked him in. Starve a cold, sweat a fever? That was it, right? She made a note to Google it later.

“You don’t mind staying?” he asked quietly.

“Not even a little bit.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “You rest. Relax and be wowed by my phenomenal cosmic nursing powers.”

“Don’t make me laugh. Everything hurts.” He curled toward her. She rubbed up and down the center of his back.

“Wait here. Gonna go look for stuff.”

She rummaged through his kitchen. She poured him a glass of water, diluted half a cup of orange juice, and grabbed a carton of yogurt, placing it all on a small tray she found.

(She hoped it was a tray anyway.)

(Too late. It was going to function like one.)