Infected

Chapter 9

When I was a child, I'd formed a horrible habit of stuttering whenever I lied. It became a useful tell for my parents whenever I was caught doing something I wasn't supposed to. It came through when I was found at the age of seven picking apples from our neighbors tree and again when I'd skipped out on doing a homework assignment because it seemed too tedious to do when I was thirteen. Even as an adult it still slips through, and now as I stood in front of Quin, trembling like an august leaf, it was on full blast.

"I- I- I- ," I sound like a broken record.

I can't even begin to form a lie to excuse why was I talking about him to Mel. Quin just stands there, smiling like a cheshire cat, completely entertained by what his stare has done to me.

"Relax Elle, I've heard much more vulgar ways for someone to describe me."

He walks towards the chair he'd used yesterday and gestures for the one next to him. I let out a relieved sigh, glad that he isn't pissed off at me for gossiping but still shaking from the idea of him looking at me in a different light. He's grabbed a book from the stack - an action that I hadn't paid attention to in the midst of my fumbling - and has opened it to yet another random spot.

"How do you do that?" I ask as I sit down next to him, shifting focus. I pull at a stray thread on my sweats having not chosen my own reading material like he had.

His eyes stay on the page as he asks, "Do what?"

"You weren't reading that book yesterday, but you turned to a spot like you've marked the place in it."

"I tend to have several books going at once, so I'll memorize the area I left off on and just make up for the difference to recap."

"I could never do that, read more than one book at a time. I couldn't put a hundred percent towards it if I'm splitting my attention more than one way."

"I'm very good at multitasking." He boasts. 

I roll my eyes, "That's a myth."

"So is the Loch Ness monster, but people still believe in it."

"I suppose you believe in those things? Creatures in the swamps of Louisiana and eight foot tall Sasquatches in the forests of Oregon?"

He tries to hide his annoyance, quickly answering, "I like to keep my options open. Now, can I return to my book please?"

"Oh, sorry." I look away and pick at the same thread, juggling what I could do to fill the hours until he was going to leave. I wasn't the type to kick someone out. Well, unless they aggravated me.

I pick up the trash can near the door, choosing to tidy up the room. I throw away the wilted flowers and sweep their dry petals into the bin, momentarily sad to see Quin's bouquet go with other arrangements. I rinse out the vases in the sink and stack them on the counter wondering how I'll be able to lug them out of the hospital when it was time to leave.

Not once does Quin speak. He's become immersed in his book, rubbing the corner of the page like he'd done last night. 

I lean against the edge of the sink, drying a particularly large vase while allowing my eyes to fall on the back of Quin's head, my hands slowly stop their task as I let my mind glaze over.

"It's rude to stare." Quin's deep voice surprises me and I fumble to make it seem like I was doing something.

"How did you know I was staring at you?"

"Because I'm irresistibly handsome and you can't help yourself."

I guffaw at his brazen remark. I set down the barely dried vase I was holding and then walk over to take a seat on the bed.