Just You

Seventeen

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Seventeen

#Dylan

I jerked awake having one of those dreams about tripping on your own feet and face-planting on the cold hard concrete. My eyes adjusted to the harsh fluorescent lights. I couldn't resist smiling. Jake had fallen asleep leaning on my shoulder and I had fallen asleep leaning against him. 

I looked at Jake. He looked like an angel in his sleep with his halo of golden hair. Gone was the arrogant smirk from his face, the one that I have gotten used to. Instead, he looked calm and serene. 

A lock of his blonde hair had fallen into his eyes. I raised a finger to brush it away and quickly pulled away as I accidentally carressed his forehead. He was burning up! He probably had a fever or something but he felt extremely hot.

I knew it! I knew he was going to get sick in the cold with the way he was running around with barely anything on. What was that disease people get from too much cold? Thermo something? That's it! Hypothermia! I wanted to smack the idiot but I was too worried about him. I started to shake him awake, calling his name and gently slapping his face. 

Finally, he opened his eyes, his beautiful blue orbs- oops, not going there, Dylan!

His cheeks were tinged pink and his teeth began to chatter and his body shiver. I had to get him up from the cold marble floor. 

"Jake? Are you okay?"

He just looked at me.

I wanted to hit my head on the wall.

Of course, he's not okay! He's dying of the cold! What a stupid thing of me to say! Why am I so freakin' stupid around Jake?

"Sorry," I mumbled, "Can you get up?"

He nodded and stood up shakily. After checking up on his mother who was still passed out on the couch, I slung his arm over my shoulder and guided him up the stairs. Damn. This house was huge. I had done it before, getting him up safely, when he was a stumbling drunk. With slow steps, we were able to climb up. Jake pointed me into the direction of his room and again, I was deprived of the opportunity to admire his beautiful home. Like a caterpillar, I got him in there and practically dumped him on the huge king-sized four-poster bed on his room. His bed was messy and unmade but I somehow managed to wrestle him into a comfortable position.

I fluffed his pillows and covered him with the comforter and the thick blanket, but his teeth still chattered. I opened his closet and found a quilt and a wool jacket. I just piled them all on top of him.  Then, removed them again when I thought of suffocating him. 

Wow, this is hard! The only time I have ever taken care of someone sick was when Robbie had chicken pox and I wasn't even allowed to be near him very often.

Okay, Dylan, think. He's feeling extremely cold but you have to reduce his temperature. How do you do that? 

"Dyl, go home," Jake muttered softly beneath the mountain of blankets," I'm fine."

"Who are you kidding? You're sick!"

"Dyl, I'll be fine."

"No, Jake, I can take care of you!" I insisted.

"Are you sure about this?"he asked.

"Of course, I am."

Jake fell silent and I just stood there fidgeting and worrying about what should be done. I realize that I have been playing with the key he gave me which I have strung on a chain my mother bought.

"Uhm, Jake?" I began, embarrassed, "How do you take care of someone that's sick?"

Jake began making weird noises. It took me a moment to realize that he was actually laughing. At me. Jerk.