Page 47 of Palm South University: Season 2

I’M DYING.

Death by sinus infection.

Rest in peace. And mounds of tissues.

When I woke up yesterday morning with a stiff jaw and heavy head, I knew I couldn’t push off going to the doctor any longer. If my voice wasn’t an indication that there was way too much mucus happening in my head, my puffy cheeks definitely were. So, after I helped Cassie channel her inner Christina Aguilera circa 2002, I dragged my snotty ass down to the health clinic and faced my verdict.

Severe sinus infection.

And, because my luck is just the best, I made it to the campus pharmacy six minutes after they’d closed for amid-semester celebration, whatever the fuck that means. So not only did I have to miss the Fratalina Wine Mixer because I felt like shit, but I also couldn’t even get the meds started to make me feel better.

Perfect.

But, finally, here I am — in line to pay for my antibiotics and a can of condensed soup so I can start getting my life back on track. Spring Break is in a week, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to be a snot head in a bikini come then.

“Jess?”

Shit.

Shit shit shit.

I don’t even want to turn around, but at this point, I’m busted. Moving slowly as if I’m in the presence of a poisonous snake, I force a smile, cringing simultaneously at the thought of what I look like right now just as Jarrett’s face comes into view.

Pissed is an understatement.

I wait for him to yell, scream, ask me why the hell I’ve been ignoring him — but instead, his eyes rake over my body, catching on the pharmacy bag clutched in my right hand.

“You’re sick.”

I chew my lip in response and he blows out a breath, closing his eyes for a short moment before springing into action. Snatching the soup from my hand, he walks it back to its place on the shelf with me trailing behind.

“What are you doing?”

“You don’t need to eat that processed shit if you’re sick.”

“It’s just a sinus infection.”

Setting the can back on the shelf with more force than necessary, Jarrett takes a breath before turning to face me. “Don’t argue with me right now, Jess.”

I swallow.

“I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you.”

“Is this why?” he asks, his expression pained.

“Mostly, yes.”

“Mostly?”

Ugh, this is the last thing I want to do right now. I was so close to soup and Netflix.

Jarrett runs a hand over his bald head before grabbing my hand. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” I ask, not really minding as long as I can have this view of Jarrett’s tight ass in the basketball shorts he’s wearing.

“We’re paying for your script, going to a real grocery store, and then back to my place.”

“Wait,” I interrupt, tugging my hand out of his grip. “Jarrett, I’m sick. I don’t want to…” I trail off. How do I say this lightly?