Stupid Cupid

Sorry I threw up all over you and made you strip

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Excuse the Mistakes

There is a picture of Parker on the side. At some point in the chapter, I describe him shirtless, and I thought I would provide a picture ;)

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Today was one of those days when I was glad I was sick.

First of all, today was Monday, and staying home on a Monday was every teenager’s fantasy. However, the major reason I was happy to be home from school was because of Parker. Whatever feelings I was having towards him had to be sorted out, and it was easier to do that when I was home alone.

“Alright, Reed,” my mom said, walking into my room, “I’m heading to work, but if you need anything, just call me or your father.”

“Okay,” I mumbled, burrowing further under my covers. My mom said something else, but my mind was so tired that I just ignored her.

I faintly heard my bedroom door close behind my mom, and I yawned loudly. One of the dancers at my studio had managed to get me sick with a death plague, and I was one hundred percent sure that I was dying.

I’d spent last night curled up on the bathroom floor, since I kept vomiting. Every time I’d moved to go back to my bed, another wave of nausea hit me, and I was bent over the toilet once again.

Around four in the morning, my mom had found me in my bathroom. She took one look at the toilet full of the contents of my stomach and told me that I could stay home, which wasn’t a common occurrence in my house. Then, my mom had helped me into my bed, and she’d set up a trash bin next to my bed in case I began throwing up again.

A few minutes after my mom had left for work, I felt myself start to drift off, and my tired body welcomed sleep with open arms. A cold, tiled bathroom floor and a bathmat blanket weren’t exactly comfortable when it came to sleeping. A warm, soft bed, however, was wonderful.

Suddenly, after what felt like only minutes, my phone went off, ripping me painfully from sleep.

I tried ignoring it, but my mom must’ve changed my ringtone to this annoying one because she knew that I’d answer it. I let out a groan as I pulled my arm out of my cocoon and felt around on the bedside table. My fingers closed around the small piece of technology, and without looking at the caller ID, I pressed the send button and held the phone up to my ear.

“Hello?” I called irritably.

“Where you at, Baby Mama?” Parker asked playfully, and I groaned.

“I’m home sick,” I answered grumpily.

“Really?” Parker replied, his tone changing to one of concern, “Are you okay?”

“No,” I deadpanned, yawning, “I’m dying. Can’t you tell?”

“Is anyone home with you?” Parker asked, ignoring my sarcastic remark.

‘Nope,” I replied, “I’m home alone until Thomas gets home from school.”

“Then, I’m coming over,” Parker stated, and before I could tell him absolutely not, Parker had hung up. I swore under my breath and dropped my phone back on the bedside table. Parker coming over meant that I would have to at least sit up and no part of me wanted to.

Reluctantly, I slid my comforter off of my body and swung my legs over the side of my bed. Gently, I pushed myself up into a sitting position, and I moaned as the world spun slightly. I grabbed the small trashcan on the floor next to my bed and sat it on my thighs, directly under my mouth.