The Boy Who Lives In My Garage > jariana (COMPLETED)

eighteen

I drop Justin's backpack in the living room and motion to the couch. He takes off his coat and sits with his head back and his arms folded over his chest, looking miserable. He's got a cough that sounds miserable, too. I tuck the blankets tightly around him. "You're a mess."

"It's just a cold."

"It was just a cold before you spent too much time in the cold. Now it's probably pneumonia."

He rolls his eyes. "Dramatic."

I can't help but smile. I missed him even more than I thought.

Before I can respond, Alyssa's bedroom door opens. As she walks downstairs, I say, "Justin's here."

She gives me a raised-eyebrow look until she sees Justin. Then she frowns. "No offense, but you don't looks so good."

He gives a weak smile. "None taken," he says, then breaks into a coughing fit.

"Is he okay?" Alyssa asks.

"Not sure. His parents are out of town. I didn't want him to be alone." The lie comes easily. I rub Justin's back while he coughs into the crook of his elbow. When I look up, Alyssa is gone, probably back to calculus or physics or whatever other homework Justin's appearance interrupted on a Sunday afternoon. "You're okay," I tell him as the coughing slows down. "You know, you really should keep your lungs inside your chest, where they belong."

"Trying," he gasps, wincing as he swallows.

Alyssa reappears, not with a textbook, but with a thermometer, Tylenol, and a bottle of water. Okay. It's going to take me a while to get used to the "my sister doesn't completely suck" thing. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She turns on the thermometer, and Justin digs a hand out from the blankets to put it in his mouth. We sit in silence until the thermometer beeps.

"One oh two point four," I read. "It's official. You're sick."

Alyssa hands him two Tylenol and the bottle of water. "As if we needed confirmation."

"Thanks," Justin says, and closes his eyes. He's asleep almost immediately.

"I'm going back upstairs. No inappropriate behavior between you two."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, like I'm going to take advantage of him in his weak state." That thought takes my mind to Rosalinda's teary phone call before Justin's reappearance. "Hey, Alyssa?" I leave Justin's side and follow her halfway up the stairs so we won't disturb him.

"Yeah?"

"You should probably know that Rosalinda is pregnant."

Alyssa gasps. "Oh my God. Seriously? What's she going to do?"

"She's not sure yet." It's obvious Alyssa isn't making the connection. "But the reason I'm telling you...the father is..."

"...Clinton," she finishes for me, her eyes closed. When she opens her eyes, the disappointment is obvious.

"Yeah. Sorry."

She sighs and shrugs. "It's okay. It's not like I ever had a chance with him. He just seemed...nice. And cute. And fun."

"There are other nice, cute, fun guys," I say. "Ones that don't sleep around and get girls pregnant."

Alyssa nods in Justin's direction. "Yeah. There are." Then she goes upstairs.

...

Most of the afternoon and evening is spent curled up on the couch, watching TV while Justin sleeps. I have enough foresight to text my parents and let them know that Justin is here.