The Game Changer

Chapter 16

Dedicated to @Isabellalisa :) Thank you for being so nice! :) x

Check the side for Ian's picture! :)

Chapter 16

I woke up the next day with a headache. I searched the room and found that I was alone. Ian must be having breakfast. My eyes were watery and my breath felt hot. Instinctively, I put the back of my palm against my forehead and my neck; I was hot. Like, literally, not figuratively. The room was spinning and although the room temperature was controlled, I felt very cold. I sniffed and hid under the covers. Sleep came easily.

"Clarisse."

"No," I mumbled, my voice sounding stuffy. I sniffed and shut my eyes tighter.

"Clarisse? You sound sick. Hey, stop hiding under the covers," he said. Ian tugged the blanket off my head and I tried my best to pull. "Hey! Cut it out!"

"No! Get off me, Ian!" I tried to pull harder but failed miserably. He was way too strong and I was way too weak.

"Oh god, Clarisse. You don't look so good." He touched my forehead and I shivered under his touch.

"Cold," I said.

"Sorry. You, uh, you missed breakfast. They were looking for you. I told them you were tired and probably wanted to sleep in," he explained. "Do you want anything?"

"I'm not hungry," I said, turning my back against him. I heard him sigh and get up. I closed my eyes again, falling asleep almost immediately. After a few minutes, however, I heard Ian enter the room. He wasn't exactly gentle about closing the door. The loud and sudden thud startled me.

"I'm so sorry. My hands are full," he said, chuckling under his breath. He had a tray with him. He walked over to the bed and placed the tray on the bedside table before sitting down beside me. I sat up and rested my back on the headboard.

"Here, eat this before you take the medicine," he said. He handed me the soup, but I just stared at it. Why is he being so nice to me?

"I'm not hungry," I said.

"Look, I know you're still mad at me. But you have to eat something."

When I didn't budge, he sighed and took the spoon. He was going to feed me the soup

"Here comes the airplane, Clarisse," he said, making ridiculous airplane sounds as he tried to get me to eat.

"Ian, stop!" I said. I couldn't help but laugh a little.

"What? Did you want another mode of transportation? A train, perhaps? Or are you more of a bicycle chick, global crisis and whatnot? I think I can imitate a bike, if you want." For a second, he looked like he was seriously going to do it. I rolled my eyes and tried to sit up straighter. My arms and legs felt sore and tired, and the simple task of sitting up made me wince.

"Hey, easy there," he said.

"Just give me the soup," I said. He handed it to me gently, worried I might spill it. He watched me carefully as I tried to lift the spoon to my mouth.

"You can't even lift it to your mouth," he said. "Look, just please let me take care of you."

I rolled my eyes and sighed. He sat closer and fed me soup until I was too full. I ended up finishing less than half of it. He handed me a tablet and I took it then popped it in my mouth.

"Thanks," I said, sniffing. He handed me a box of tissue and I gladly accepted. He put his hand on my forehead and checked if I was still warm. As I was blowing my nose and he was checking my temperature, the door swung open.