He nods once. Of course he knows. I poisoned him.

“But I’d better get going before a new wave hits.”

“I’ll get your car to you tomorrow. So, either you stay here tonight, or I drive you home.”

At the same time I say, “Home,” he says, “Stay.”

“You leave in three days. You don’t need to get sick.”

“I’m leaving in three days. It’s why you should stay.”

I frown. He’s so stubborn.

“I’ll sleep on the sofa,” I concede.

Jake sets his keys back on the counter. “You’ll sleep in the bed. I’ll sleep on the sofa. I’ll wash my hands and take extra vitamins.”

The frown won’t wipe off my face. It’s no longer his stubbornness, it’s me. I feel like crap. I hate being sick. I’m the worst at being sick. He doesn’t want to see this. At least at home, I have access to a doctor who’s used to whiney patients.

“I need to lie down. I need a bowl. I need a blanket.” I hug my stomach and walk toward the bed. “I need water, not too warm, not too cold. And my phone. It’s in my purse.” I melt onto the bed, curling my body into itself on my side.

“I’ll get you everything you need.” Jake covers me up with his blankets. I close my eyes and pray for this bug to be quick. I’m a wuss. Wusses can’t stay sick too long. It’s just a law of nature.

“Perfect temperature water. Your phone. A bowl. And some ginger candy.” He lines up everything on the nightstand. “Anything else?” The bed dips as he sits on the edge, stroking my hair and my back.

“Don’t get sick and don’t stay.”

“Where am I going to go?” He chuckles.

I crack open my eyes. “I mean Saturday. You go home. I don’t want you to stay here for me. You’re not an L.A. person. You said it yourself. And I need to get my life back in order before I can be truly … lovable. I need time. I need to go slow.”

This elicits more laughter. “I’m leaving Saturday. I have a business to run and guests coming next week. You’ll have all the time you need to do your thing.”

Guests … this makes me more nauseous.

“But, Ave …” Jake kisses the side of my head. “I’ll return.” He goes into the bathroom.

I grab my phone, cringing with every little move.

Me: You suck. I hope you feel better, but you suck.

Sydney: Where are you? And why do I suck?

Me: I’m visiting a friend and now I’m staying here because I’M VOMITING! Would it kill you to not use my water glass? Ugh! Thanks for sharing your virus.

Sydney: Do you want Lautner to come get you?