The Winter Rivals

Chapter 17| The Flu.

8th October 2008
With the soft sheets tucked beneath each arm and the window slightly ajar, my body wrestled with the confusion of whether it was hot or cold, shaking uncontrollably even as a bead of sweat rolled down my forehead. A metallic taste fizzed on my tongue, while Mariam and Tora sat before me on the rumpled bed, attempting to entice me with food.

"It's just a piece of warm, buttery toast and a glass of water. Take slow bites and little sips, okay?" Mariam encouraged me gently.

I nodded, but honestly, the thought of bringing food to my lips made me feel like I might gag uncontrollably, much like you would if you were trapped among a crowd of people with revolting body odour on the London Underground or just strolling through Camden Market.

Tora lifted the plate and placed it on my lap as she tucked a stray piece of black hair behind my ear. I looked up at her pleadingly as I shivered.

"Don't give me that look, Missy," she chuckled. "I know it's cold, but the doctor has instructed me to keep the window open a fraction if you want to keep that big heavy duvet on."

Taking a small bite of the buttery, golden-brown toast, I felt my body struggle to swallow. It was like trying to swallow with a sore throat or trying to bite into a glass bottle the same way you would an apple. Highly unappealing, to say the least—maybe not to a psychopath, though.

Jess and Rowen peeked through the slightly cracked open door, both wearing identical looks of concern.

"Is she eating?" Jess asked, his eyes locked on Mariam as she twisted around to reply, "Yes, she is."

"Good," Jess said in my direction, his voice laced with an oddly comforting emotion. It was disgusting. I didn't want him to care—especially not after the way he dropped the hug, as if I carried some kind of zombie-like disease. Not to mention the hateful glare he'd been zapping through my face both when he'd first started 'helping' me on the slopes, and during our interview. Okay, maybe I was being dramatic. He did end up helping me on the piste, but still!

The flickering golden streams of candlelight cast beams of light over his tan skin and chocolate curls. His broad, manly shoulders and strong arms pushed against his tight-fitting black t-shirt, and I couldn't help but stare longingly.
You're sick, Elora?! Get it together!
Mentally swatting away the obviously inappropriate feelings, I took another few bites of toast, each swallow becoming easier the more I ate.

Rowen scratched at the back of his neck as he leaned against the back wall of the room. "I'm sorry for encouraging you to try skiing today, Elora," he said earnestly.

Shaking my head softly, I took the glass of water Mariam was passing my way and replied, "You have nothing to be sorry for, Rowen. You didn't know I was going to get sick, silly." I sipped the water, feeling the cool liquid glide down the back of my throat. It was refreshing but only made me shiver even more. I groaned out frustratedly, running a hand wearily down my face. "When will this end?"

Tora shook her head in a motherly manner. "When you get some rest."

"She's right, Elora," Mariam and Rowen spoke at the same time before shooting one another a look and yelling, "JINX!" as if they were seven-year-old twins convinced of telepathy. It was rather amusing to watch, actually, and it definitely distracted me for a second from the gruesome feeling of the flu, which was a mixture of 'am I going to be sick,' 'I'm fatigued,' 'I need a shower,' and 'HUAGH,' which stands for vomiting.

Eventually, they all left the room, with Mariam and Tora both insisting that I sleep off my fever. I felt so exhausted that I was more than willing to agree. Rowen wished me a speedy recovery, while Jess, not surprisingly, didn't say a word at all when he left. If anything, he just looked like he despised me but felt a bit sorry for me since I was sick and had opened up to him, which I was starting to worry might have been a mistake.