The Void Between Stars: Book 4 Of The Orion Series

Detox

I woke up the following morning feeling physically worse than I had the day previous. I knew I would have to partake in the daily schedule if I was well enough to function; that was procedure. There was absolutely no way I was going to make it through a session, much less breakfast; the mere thought of being near the cafeteria and smelling food made me puke.

So instead of doing anything I called the nurse. She came to my room where we discussed how I was feeling. I told her what happened when I merely thought about food (even thinking about it made me dry heave). The nurse declared me genuinely unwell and escorted me to the medical wing. Originally she suggested a wheelchair, but I balked at the thought.

However at one point I nearly passed out and stumbled, my shoulder crashing hard into the wall. Had she not been there to catch me, I would've probably fallen to the floor. You could imagine my relief when she eased me into a wheelchair. Gratefully I sank into it and immediately became a puddle of goo.

Pride be damned, I felt like shit.

I spent half the day in the med wing. I was given Tylenol for my head and anti-nausea medicine. It was bliss, lying in bed, drifting in and out of sleep. That bliss ended when they checked on me mid-day. They asked if I was feeling better, and I made the dumb mistake of saying yes. So, they gave me another round of the two medicines and then sent me on my merry way.

"Mind if I sit?"

Scott looks up at me and grins brightly. "There you are! Sit, sit, please sit."

I sit down and set down my tray of food.

Scott continues to grin at me. "You don't have to ask to sit, just do it. I enjoy your company."

I manage a weak smile. "Thanks."

For the first time in days, I actually want to eat. I still feel a little sick, but I can tell it's from being hungry. So I pick up my sandwich and begin to devour it.

"Missed you in group."

"Wasn't feeling well," I mumble around my food, even as I take three more bites.

Scott leans in closer, a devilish smile on his face. "You missed Anna having a spectacular meltdown over her cat that died. I think half the room was trying to not laugh at her."

I don't say anything, almost done with my sandwich. Scott looks amused.

"Feeling better?"

I'm done with my sandwich, licking my fingers. Before I answer I chug down my water. When everything is done, I burp. Smiling sheepishly, I answer.

"Y-yeah."

"You stutter."

"Yeah," I say again, wiping my hands on a napkin. "My body's kinda fucked up. I'm colorblind, I'm near-sighted. I needed to go to speech therapy to fix my stuttering for a few years when I was little. I still do it when I'm embarrassed or really emotional." My eyes fall off to the side and I chuckle. "Unfortunately I'm really emotional a lot of the time."

Scott rests his cheek against the palm of his hand. He looks at me evenly. I didn't know it then, but it was a look I would come to know—it was his look of being genuine. "Unfortunately?"

"Y-yeah," I tell him, scratching the back of my head. "My emotions run away from me a lot. I hate it. It's stupid."

"Why do you hate it?"

Now I roll my eyes, starting to get annoyed. "I cry more easily than girls do. It's obnoxious."

"Ah, so, it makes you feel weak?" He flashes a grin. "Girl's aren't weak, though. I could never give birth, I'm sure, if I had the right bits. Also couldn't deal with a period. Women are phenomenally strong."

I open my mouth to rebuttal about it being a matter of feeling weak, but then I sort of deflate. "Y-yeah, I guess. Nothing good has ever come from my tears. It's either gotten me made fun of or gotten my ass beat."

Scott raises an eyebrow. However, he side-steps that last part and goes a different direction. "Orion—do you know what one of the main differences is between humans and animals?"

I screw up my face. "Huh?"

Both his eyebrows lift, waiting for my response.

"Uh, our brains?"

"Yes," he tells me patiently, "but also our emotions. Some animals have higher emotions—dolphins, elephants, apes. But our wide range of emotions is something that separates us from the animal kingdom."

I don't say anything.

"Our emotions are what makes us human, Orion." He flashes his perfect smile at me. "How is that a bad thing?"

I stop myself from frowning. I don't agree, but he does have a point. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

"Not to mention musicians feed off that stuff," he continues, and I adore his patience. "Or at least every musician I've known, anyway."

"Oh, you know other musicians?"

Scott's eyes narrow ever so slightly. "Don't change the subject, Bauwens."

I laugh at him. "What--are you one of my therapists now?"

Scott leans forward, his elbows on his knees, fingertips splayed against each other. His light eyes view me with such seriousness and determination it makes me swallow. His eyes could be really intense; it was part of what made him a heartthrob.

"Look, I've done this three other times," he tells me, dropping his voice into its lower registers. It makes my heart speed up. "No, I'm not a therapist, but I've found that sometimes it's easier to tell a friend the rubbish than a professional."

I swallow. "Is--is that what we are? Friends?"

Scott smiles easily at me. "I'd like to think so."

I nod once. Scott gets to his feet and stretches his arms above his head. I turn away when his shirt lifts up slightly and I catch a glimpse of his treasure trail, hips defined in that delectable 'v' that seductively dips into his pants.

"Alright," he says when he's done stretching. "I'm knackered. You good, mate?"

"Yeah," I tell him honestly. But when I look up at him, I find myself embarrassed. So I throw my gaze off to the side. "T-thanks. For talking."

"Sure. Just know one day I'm going to want to talk to you."

I nod my head, but when I look up all I catch is his back turning the corner.