35

The headache came on slowly, the kind that throbbed at the back of my skull and crept forward, spreading through my temples and into my sinuses. I thought it would pass. After all, Spencer and I had barely been out last night—just a few hours on a rooftop bar with the city lights flickering below us, our laughter floating into the crisp autumn air. But even then, I could feel something heavy and unshakeable settling over me, and by the time I got home, my body ached in a way that sleep couldn't cure.

The next morning, I woke feeling worse. My head felt like it was trapped in a vice, my throat raw and scratchy, and a thick fog of fatigue hung over me, weighing down every movement. I pulled the blanket over my head, shutting out the blinding morning light that somehow managed to find its way through my curtains. But there was no hiding from my phone buzzing insistently on the bedside table, the screen flashing with Spencer's name.

With a groan, I reached for it, pressing it to my ear. "Hello?" My voice was barely a croak.

"Wow, you sound awful," Spencer's concerned voice came through the speaker. "Why didn't you tell me you were sick last night?"

I could almost picture her frown, the way she'd crossed her arms. "Didn't know I was, I guess," I muttered, trying to swallow the soreness in my throat. "I just thought I was tired."

"Well, I'm coming over," she said firmly, brooking no argument. "You need someone to make sure you actually rest, and I know how stubborn you are."

I rolled my eyes, though a small part of me was grateful. Spencer had a knack for knowing when I needed her, and right now, the idea of having someone here, even if only to fuss over me, felt like a relief. "Fine, but I'll probably be asleep when you get here."

"That's what I'm here for," she replied, and I could hear the smile in her voice. She hung up before I could argue, and I let the phone fall back onto the bed, sighing.

The next thing I knew, Spencer was bustling into my apartment, armed with a thermos of soup, a bag of cold medicine, and a look of determination. She found me curled up on the couch, buried under a pile of blankets, my head resting on a pillow as I drifted in and out of sleep.

"Good God, Cora," she muttered, setting the thermos on the coffee table and reaching for my forehead. Her cool hand felt good against my overheated skin, and I leaned into the touch, too tired to resist. "You're burning up. Have you taken anything?"

"Not yet," I mumbled, blinking up at her through heavy eyelids.

Spencer shook her head, her brow creased with worry. "You're hopeless, you know that?" She rummaged through the bag, pulling out a bottle of cold medicine and measuring out a dose. "Here, drink this."

I swallowed it obediently, grimacing at the bitter taste, but it was worth it for the look of approval she shot me. "Just rest, okay?" She brushed a strand of hair from my face, her touch gentle. "I'll be here if you need anything."

I nodded, closing my eyes and letting the drowsiness take over. I barely registered her moving around the apartment, tidying up and making tea, the comforting sounds of her presence lulling me into a half-sleep.

But then there was a knock at the door—a sound that didn't belong in my hazy, feverish world. I frowned, trying to sit up, but Spencer beat me to it, crossing the room to answer.

To my utter disbelief, Levi's voice filled the space, low and hesitant. "Is... is Cora here?"

Spencer glanced back at me, raising an eyebrow, and I stared at her, wide-eyed. "Uh... yeah, she's here. But she's not exactly in visitor condition," she replied, giving him a pointed look.

I tried to hide further into my blanket, suddenly all too aware of my disheveled appearance, the dark circles under my eyes, the tangle of hair that I hadn't bothered to fix. The last person I wanted to see me like this was Levi.

But he stepped into the room anyway, his gaze landing on me, and his usual cocky smirk softened into something more—something that made my chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with my cold.

"Hey," he said quietly, taking a few steps toward the couch. He looked... concerned. Genuinely concerned. The Levi I knew would've teased me, thrown a sarcastic comment about how I looked like a drowned rat, but today, there was none of that in his expression.

"Hey," I croaked back, my voice barely audible.

He came closer, kneeling down beside the couch so that he was at my eye level. I could smell his cologne, faint but familiar, grounding me in a way I hadn't expected. "Didn't know you were feeling this bad."

"Guess I hid it well," I whispered, my cheeks flushing despite the fever. "You... didn't have to come here."

Levi shrugged, his gaze unwavering. "Yeah, but I wanted to." He said it so simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, and the quiet sincerity in his voice made my heart stutter.

Spencer hovered by the doorway, watching us with barely concealed amusement. "Well, since you're here, Levi, maybe you can help. She won't listen to me, but maybe she'll take it easy if you're the one telling her to rest."

He glanced up at Spencer, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Consider it done."

With that, Spencer slipped out, leaving us alone. The room felt too quiet, too intimate, and I averted my gaze, focusing on the pattern of the blanket, the way my fingers gripped the edge as if it could somehow shield me from the vulnerability of this moment.

Levi reached out, his hand brushing against mine. His touch was warm, grounding, and I looked up, meeting his gaze. His eyes were softer than I'd ever seen them, filled with a quiet intensity that made it impossible to look away.

"You really should take better care of yourself, you know," he murmured, his thumb grazing over my knuckles in a soothing rhythm.

A small, bitter laugh escaped me. "You're one to talk."

"Fair point." He chuckled, but his gaze softened. "Still. I don't like seeing you like this."

The tenderness in his voice sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't stop the tears that pricked at the corners of my eyes. I was too tired, too raw to hold them back. "Levi... why are you doing this?"

He didn't look away, didn't flinch. "Because I care about you, Cora."

Those words shattered something inside me, something I'd been holding together with sheer willpower. The tears slipped down my cheeks, and before I could brush them away, Levi's hand was there, his thumb gently wiping them.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice so soft it was barely a whisper. "It's okay."

I tried to smile, but it came out as a shaky, tearful laugh. "I'm sorry. I'm just... tired."

"I know." He shifted closer, his hand finding mine once more, his fingers lacing through mine in a way that felt both comforting and terrifying.

"But you don't have to pretend with me. Not now."

As I drifted back into a feverish sleep, the last thing I felt was Levi's thumb gently stroking my hand, his presence a steady, reassuring weight beside me. And in the haze of dreams, I held onto the memory of his touch, the quiet promise in his words, and the soft, unspoken hope that maybe, when I woke, he'd still be there.