Page 12 of Trick Play (Playing the Field #4)
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
Zeke
Then
“How are you never sick?” Micah asks stuffily as I pass him a warm bowl of soup. He’s caught some kind of winter bug, and I’ve been taking care of him as well as I can around my football schedule. Thankfully, we play at our home stadium this week, and he doesn’t have a problem staying at my house so I can keep him close. He’s bundled up in my bed under a cyan-blue quilt he insisted I needed. His nose and cheeks are flushed red, which I think means he shouldn’t be preserving body heat, but like hell am I going to try and take it away again. The scratch on the back of my hand still burns a bit from when he snatched it back earlier. Beneath that blanket, he’s in one of my old college ball shirts over a pair of boy short–style underwear. Something about seeing him in my bed, my clothes, face flushed, and turquoise hair pulled back in a messy bun makes the caveman within me puff out his chest and roar in triumph. I hush it with a reminder that Micah is sick, not sex-mussed.
We could have stayed at his apartment so he’d be comfortable amongst his own things, but he lives in a high-rise. I visited only once, nearly had a panic attack, and then got kicked out before Micah and I could even get to second base because Hendrix came over having some kind of crisis. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Micah, it’s that he’s loyal to the people he cares about. Booting me out wasn’t even a question when his best friend came knocking.
“Good immune system, I guess,” I respond once he’s taken a sip of the soup.
“You come into contact with so many germs when you kiss people, though.”
Climbing in bed beside him, I pull him against me and rest my head on his, feeling the warmth from his fever almost immediately. “I keep the kisses as non-intimate as I can. My doctor does monthly checks for any diseases, I’m on preventative meds, an immune injection, take an ungodly amount of vitamins, and he prescribes me this toothpaste and mouthwash that’s supposed to be extra germ-killing.”
I can tell Micah isn’t expecting such a descriptive answer because he pulls back to blink at me as if I’ve grown a second head. “Huh,” he muses. “I didn’t think it would be that serious.”
“There’s plenty of stuff I can catch or transmit if I’m not careful. He makes me get all the seasonal immunizations, and he quizzes me on what to look out for when someone comes in for a kiss. Like cold sores and such.”
“That’s very . . .” He pauses to think about it and to sneeze, “responsible of you.”
“I’m not just a pretty face,” I tease before giving him a serious look. “Unfortunately, I will have to abstain from kissing you until you’re fever-free for twenty-four hours. Doctor’s orders.”
Micah lets out an overdramatic groan. “Whatever will I do without Kiss kisses?”
“Well, you can start by eating your soup so you can take some fever reducers. I’ll be counting down the hours once your fever breaks.”