36

The warm murmur of voices pulled me from the edge of sleep. I blinked slowly, the room spinning for a moment before I found Spencer standing in the doorway with Ethan. They were whispering, their tones playful yet soft, as if they were trying not to disturb the fragile quiet of my fevered state.

"Did she really down the whole thermos of soup?" Ethan asked, a grin quirking his lips as he glanced over at me. His brown hair caught the light streaming through the curtains, and for a moment, he looked so at ease, so undeniably happy, that I almost didn't recognize him.

Spencer rolled her eyes, the corner of her mouth lifting. "I practically had to force-feed her, but yes. She ate."

Their gazes met, and the air between them shifted, becoming something tangible and electric. It was the kind of look that spoke of secrets shared in the quiet, of long nights spent talking until the world blurred around them. My heart clenched at the sight-not from jealousy but from the sheer intimacy of it, as if I was witnessing a scene not meant for an audience.

Ethan reached out, his fingers brushing over Spencer's wrist, subtle but deliberate. "You always were good at taking care of people," he murmured, the teasing tone replaced by something softer, more vulnerable.

Spencer's eyes softened, the usual sharpness in her expression melting away. "And you," she said, tilting her head and arching an eyebrow, "are terrible at hiding how much you worry."

Ethan's grin turned sheepish, and he glanced at me, as if remembering they weren't alone. His fingers lingered on Spencer's wrist for a heartbeat longer before he let go, stuffing his hands into his pockets. The loss of contact didn't go unnoticed; Spencer's hand twitched slightly, as though it missed his touch already.

I watched them with curiosity, the weight of exhaustion making me feel more like an observer than a participant. Spencer, the fierce and fearless friend who never faltered, looked at Ethan as if he were the one place she could let her guard down. And Ethan, who usually wore sarcasm like a second skin, stood there with eyes that softened only for her.

"You guys don't need to baby me," I rasped, managing a weak smile. "I'm still here, you know."

Spencer's eyes snapped to me, a flush of pink dusting her cheeks. "As if we'd let you forget," she said, moving to adjust the blanket around me. "Besides, Ethan here came by to make sure I didn't burn your kitchen down with my attempts at making tea."

Ethan chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "True. I heard horror stories."

"Oh, did you?" Spencer's voice took on that teasing lilt again, and before I knew it, they were bickering playfully, the kind of banter that held undercurrents of something deeper. The tension between them was palpable, crackling like a live wire.

"Next time, maybe I'll show you how it's done," Ethan said, leaning in just a bit too close, his voice low enough that only she could hear. The way Spencer's breath caught didn't escape me.

"Careful," she whispered back, her eyes daring. "I might just take you up on that."

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the room was silent, the world outside forgotten. I watched as Ethan's hand found hers, squeezing lightly before letting go, a silent promise exchanged in the space of a heartbeat.

The weight of sleep pulled at me again, and as I drifted off, their whispered words and the stolen glances between them lingered in my mind.

The afternoon light shifted, casting golden streaks across the room as I opened my eyes, the fever lifting just enough for the room to come back into focus. I could hear soft conversation, Spencer's voice mingling with a low, familiar laugh that took me a moment to place-Ethan. They were sitting at the edge of the couch, close enough that their knees brushed when either of them shifted.

I watched them silently for a moment. Spencer leaned into the space between them, eyes bright with an expression I recognized all too well. Ethan said something, a small smirk tugging at his lips, and she rolled her eyes with mock irritation but couldn't hide the smile breaking through. It was subtle, the way their fingers almost touched when she adjusted the pillow on the couch, a gesture so natural that it felt like it had happened a thousand times before.

"Caught in the act," I mumbled, my voice hoarse but carrying enough sarcasm to make them jump.

Spencer's head snapped in my direction, eyes narrowing playfully. "Oh, look who's awake. Eavesdropping now, are we?"

"I don't have much choice," I muttered, managing a smirk. "You two might as well be on stage with all that staring and giggling."

Ethan chuckled, leaning back in a way that brought him just a little closer to Spencer. "We thought you were out cold," he said, a lazy grin making its way across his face. "Guess we're not as sneaky as we thought."

Spencer shot him a glare, but it softened when he met her eyes. "You were never sneaky, Ethan," she said, a warmth in her tone that I rarely heard.

Their banter continued, but there was a shift in the air-one that made the room feel smaller, more intimate. I could see it in the way Spencer's fingers hovered near his when she reached for her tea, the way his gaze lingered on her just a heartbeat too long. It was like I was seeing a different side of my best friend, one who let herself be a little softer, a little less guarded.

"Okay, you two need a room," I said, attempting to prop myself up, but failing miserably when my body protested. The effort made me cough, a harsh sound that pulled Spencer's attention immediately.

"Cora, take it easy," she said, her teasing expression giving way to concern. She pressed the glass of water into my hand, her fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary.

Ethan leaned forward, the humor in his eyes replaced with something quieter. "Yeah, we're not here to let you throw yourself out of bed just to prove a point," he added, his voice softer now.

I took a sip of water, managing a small nod. "I'm fine, really. Just... glad to see you both."

A silence settled over us, warm and comfortable. Spencer glanced at Ethan, and something passed between them-an unspoken understanding, a promise I couldn't quite place. The corners of her mouth lifted, and for the first time in days, the ache in my chest felt lighter.

Ethan's fingers brushed Spencer's when he took the empty glass from me, their touch lingering for a second that felt like forever. She didn't pull away, and neither did he.

"I'll get more tea," he said, but the way he looked at her made it clear that his attention was only half on the task.

As he walked to the kitchen, Spencer's eyes followed him, a rare, unguarded smile playing at her lips. I closed my eyes, a soft laugh escaping before sleep pulled me under again. Whatever spark had ignited between them, it was brighter than I'd ever seen, and I had a feeling their story was only just beginning.