Underage

[27] Nurse's Outfit

Underage

[27] Nurse's Outfit

The chills sink deep into my bones. No amount of blankets can bring the warmth back to my body. I lay in bed, wrapped in blankets. My feet are in two pairs of socks and I'm curled on my side. Ethan is wrapped around me, his hand moving up and down my arm.

I woke up this morning cold and achy. My throat has been coughed dry and a tissue box is almost empty beside me. I feel as if I was hit by an eighteen-wheeler sometime in the night. I've long since thrown up all I could, and instead I dry heave into the bucket beside my bed. My head pounds and the aspirin has long since expired, but I can't stomach even one more pill.

Ethan kisses my cheek and places the back of his hand to my forehead. He says I still feel hot. It's been like this all morning. One minute I'm sweating and can barely get the blankets off quick enough, and then the next I'm so cold nothing is helping.

Grace was summoned an hour ago. She came with a carrier full of hot chocolate. I could only stomach the chocolatey goodness for a few minutes before it ended up in the bucket, along with everything else. Cooper was called, as well, and the couple was sitting out in the living room with Magnus, who would lay with me at intervals, like he knew I wasn't feeling well.

Ethan has threatened to take me to the doctor three times since I woke him up this morning. When I woke hot and sweaty, Ethan spent twenty minutes searching for a thermometer that I don't own. A thermometer wasn't something I ever thought I would need. So, every few minutes, Ethan places his hand on my face. He says I'm just getting hotter. I tell him it's just a cold and that I'm not going to the doctor. It's not like they can do anything for me.

I was up and out of bed at the crack of dawn when I felt too hot in my skin and my food from last night working its way up. I barely made it to the toilet before I was throwing up. Ethan was right behind me, his hands working my hair up into a ponytail. He's gotten better at putting my hair up throughout the years.

"Are you sure you're not pregnant?" was the first thing he asked me when I finished throwing up for the first time. His hands grabbed my elbows and help me stand to my feet. The room spun slightly and I remember almost falling straight back down to the floor. Ethan was quick to scoop me into his arms and help me back to the bed.

"I'm not pregnant," I told him, my stomach swirling with nausea. Ethan made it just in time with the bucket. I could tell he was tired, it was early when I woke up, but he stayed by my side and brought me anything I needed.

I can hear Magnus barking in the living room. I'm still wrapped in three blankets as I stare out my balcony doors. The sky is dark and angry, the rain clouds threatening to spill any minute. I close my eyes and lay flat on my back. Ethan's eyes are solely focused on me, and he's scanning my face to see if I'm feeling any better.

"Did you eat something bad last night?" he asks.

"I ate the same pizza you did."

Ethan swipes at my cheek with the pad of his thumb. "Do you want to try and eat something? Grace can make you some soup?"

I shake my head. The thought of food does nothing but upset my stomach. I can barely stomach the glass of ice water he keeps having me sip at. It's cold in my hand and it makes me ever colder when I drink it. The chill grips at my bones, stubborn and vicious.

"You're so pale, baby," he says, his thumb gently moving over my bottom lip and then down my chin. His fingers trace paths over my face, and I close my eyes. I feel him work his way over my eyelids and up, across my nose. It's soothing, it's lulling me to sleep. "Go to sleep, I'll be right here when you wake up."