Is the 'I Love You' Worth It?
Sicky- poo
A month later...
I'm curled up in a ball on the couch in my apartment. The phone rings.
"Could you get that?" I call weakly to my roommate. The phone stops ringing, so she must have gotten it.
"It's your boyfriend," she says, bringing me the phone.
"Thanks," I whisper before holding the phone to my ear.
"Lisea?"
"Mm hmm," I say. My head hurts so bad, it's painful to talk.
"How come you're at home?" he says.
"I don't feel good," I say hoarsely.
"Want me to come over?" he asks.
I sigh. "Yeah, I guess."
"I'll be right over."
He shows up about an hour later. He's always late, for everything.
Jennifer gets the door and leaves.
"I'll be back in a few hours," she says closing the door behind her.
Tre sits on the couch.
"I wanna go into my bedroom," I squeak. I'm feeling really nauseous. I try and stand, but i get dizzy and start to sway. Tre catches me.
"Let me," he says, scooping me up and carrying me into my room, laying me down on the bed. He kicks off his shoes and climbs under the blankets next to me.
"Don't feel good?" he asks nuzzling his head under my chin. I nod. All of a sudden, I have to throw up.
"I'll be back," I say rushing out of bed and into the bathroom. I puke my guts out and brush my teeth to get rid of the taste.
"I got sick," I say returning and cuddling into him.
"Like, throwing up sick?" he asks playing with my hair. I nod.
"I'm sorry. Did you eat something or something?"
"Something bad, you mean?" I mumble.
"Yeah, like, are you allergic to something? I remember that one time when I tried to eat oysters 'cause they're supposed to make you horny and stuff, but once I ate them, my throat kinda, like, swelled up and I couldn't breathe and I had to go to the doctor- or I guess it was the hospital because it was the weekend and the doctors weren't open- and they said it was because I was allergic." He pauses to take a deep breath. "And then one time I kept getting really sick after this one time when I drank a lot of vodka or something like that and I thought I was allergic to the wheat in it, but Billie Joe was like, 'Dude! There's no wheat in vodka!', so I finally decided-"
"Tre," I groan. "Please! I have a really bad headache."
"I just drank too much," he finished his thought almost inaudibly.
"I'm sorry, I just feel really bad," I say pushing into his warmth.
"I'm sorry too. I'll shut up now," he whispers, kissing the top of my head.
I throw up three more times before one o'clock at which time Tre says, "I'm really hungry. You're probably not though, huh?"
"Um," I sigh. "I could use some soup or something."
Tre raises his eyebrows at the suggestion.
"I think there's some in the cupboard. I'll go check," I say, trying to get up with out getting dizzy.
"No, let me go see," he says easing me back down onto the pillows. I smile at him and roll over.
I can hear him fumbling around in the kitchen cupboards looking for soup, putting the pan on the stove top, getting bowls down.
"Almost done!" he calls.
There's a scraping noise, followed by a giant crash and "Shit!"
I get up and walk into the kitchen to find him on his hands and knees picking up broken pieces of bowl. He looks up at me guiltily.
"I tripped. Go back to bed."
"No, it's okay," I start to say, but he cuts me off.
"It's okay," he says, "I wanna do this."
"Okay," I smile and go back to bed.
He comes in fifteen minutes later carrying two bowls of chicken noodle soup.
"Thanks sweetie," I say taking a bowl from him. He puts his on the nightstand and crawls back in bed.
"It's really hot, so be careful," he says taking his bowl into his lap.
"Yeah," I chuckle. "Don't spill it on your crotch."
His eyes go wide and he puts the bowl on the nightstand before laughing and saying,
"You're feeling better, huh?"
I nod. "Yeah. I'm hoping it's just a 24-hour bug or something."
***
It's eleven o'clock and we've spent the whole day in bed, minus the somewhat obligatory sex. It's something we've never really done- just talking to each other, one on one. No distractions, no video games, no bongs, no randomly naked Billie Joes. It almost feels like it was the first time I actually had a real conversation with him that wasn't just a string of innuendoes.
"It just seems like-" his thought is interrupted by a huge yawn that cracks his jaw. I giggle.
"It's late. We should go to bed."
"You work?" he asks, yawning again.
"Yeah. Unfortunately I had to go and get sick on one day off this week."
He laughs quietly. "Shit like that always happens to you."
"Mm hmm," I say smiling at the main contributing factor of why that statement is true. Now I yawn.
He smiles and moves a piece of hair that's fallen into my face.
"I think that I really should get some sleep," I say.
Smiling, he leans down and kisses me.
"I'll see you in the morning," he says getting up to turn off the light. Before getting back into bed, he pulls his pants off.
"Yeah, me too," I mumble before drifting off to sleep. The last thing I hear is
"I love you, Lisea."
I'm curled up in a ball on the couch in my apartment. The phone rings.
"Could you get that?" I call weakly to my roommate. The phone stops ringing, so she must have gotten it.
"It's your boyfriend," she says, bringing me the phone.
"Thanks," I whisper before holding the phone to my ear.
"Lisea?"
"Mm hmm," I say. My head hurts so bad, it's painful to talk.
"How come you're at home?" he says.
"I don't feel good," I say hoarsely.
"Want me to come over?" he asks.
I sigh. "Yeah, I guess."
"I'll be right over."
He shows up about an hour later. He's always late, for everything.
Jennifer gets the door and leaves.
"I'll be back in a few hours," she says closing the door behind her.
Tre sits on the couch.
"I wanna go into my bedroom," I squeak. I'm feeling really nauseous. I try and stand, but i get dizzy and start to sway. Tre catches me.
"Let me," he says, scooping me up and carrying me into my room, laying me down on the bed. He kicks off his shoes and climbs under the blankets next to me.
"Don't feel good?" he asks nuzzling his head under my chin. I nod. All of a sudden, I have to throw up.
"I'll be back," I say rushing out of bed and into the bathroom. I puke my guts out and brush my teeth to get rid of the taste.
"I got sick," I say returning and cuddling into him.
"Like, throwing up sick?" he asks playing with my hair. I nod.
"I'm sorry. Did you eat something or something?"
"Something bad, you mean?" I mumble.
"Yeah, like, are you allergic to something? I remember that one time when I tried to eat oysters 'cause they're supposed to make you horny and stuff, but once I ate them, my throat kinda, like, swelled up and I couldn't breathe and I had to go to the doctor- or I guess it was the hospital because it was the weekend and the doctors weren't open- and they said it was because I was allergic." He pauses to take a deep breath. "And then one time I kept getting really sick after this one time when I drank a lot of vodka or something like that and I thought I was allergic to the wheat in it, but Billie Joe was like, 'Dude! There's no wheat in vodka!', so I finally decided-"
"Tre," I groan. "Please! I have a really bad headache."
"I just drank too much," he finished his thought almost inaudibly.
"I'm sorry, I just feel really bad," I say pushing into his warmth.
"I'm sorry too. I'll shut up now," he whispers, kissing the top of my head.
I throw up three more times before one o'clock at which time Tre says, "I'm really hungry. You're probably not though, huh?"
"Um," I sigh. "I could use some soup or something."
Tre raises his eyebrows at the suggestion.
"I think there's some in the cupboard. I'll go check," I say, trying to get up with out getting dizzy.
"No, let me go see," he says easing me back down onto the pillows. I smile at him and roll over.
I can hear him fumbling around in the kitchen cupboards looking for soup, putting the pan on the stove top, getting bowls down.
"Almost done!" he calls.
There's a scraping noise, followed by a giant crash and "Shit!"
I get up and walk into the kitchen to find him on his hands and knees picking up broken pieces of bowl. He looks up at me guiltily.
"I tripped. Go back to bed."
"No, it's okay," I start to say, but he cuts me off.
"It's okay," he says, "I wanna do this."
"Okay," I smile and go back to bed.
He comes in fifteen minutes later carrying two bowls of chicken noodle soup.
"Thanks sweetie," I say taking a bowl from him. He puts his on the nightstand and crawls back in bed.
"It's really hot, so be careful," he says taking his bowl into his lap.
"Yeah," I chuckle. "Don't spill it on your crotch."
His eyes go wide and he puts the bowl on the nightstand before laughing and saying,
"You're feeling better, huh?"
I nod. "Yeah. I'm hoping it's just a 24-hour bug or something."
***
It's eleven o'clock and we've spent the whole day in bed, minus the somewhat obligatory sex. It's something we've never really done- just talking to each other, one on one. No distractions, no video games, no bongs, no randomly naked Billie Joes. It almost feels like it was the first time I actually had a real conversation with him that wasn't just a string of innuendoes.
"It just seems like-" his thought is interrupted by a huge yawn that cracks his jaw. I giggle.
"It's late. We should go to bed."
"You work?" he asks, yawning again.
"Yeah. Unfortunately I had to go and get sick on one day off this week."
He laughs quietly. "Shit like that always happens to you."
"Mm hmm," I say smiling at the main contributing factor of why that statement is true. Now I yawn.
He smiles and moves a piece of hair that's fallen into my face.
"I think that I really should get some sleep," I say.
Smiling, he leans down and kisses me.
"I'll see you in the morning," he says getting up to turn off the light. Before getting back into bed, he pulls his pants off.
"Yeah, me too," I mumble before drifting off to sleep. The last thing I hear is
"I love you, Lisea."