𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲; byler

- 𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓇𝓎 8 -

𝒜𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓂𝓎 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒸𝓀𝓊𝓅𝓈 are over, I step into the cafeteria.

 I was planning to eat lunch with my mom who had come to the hospitals for the check-ups, but she had stayed behind to talk with the doctors.

I don't know what about, but I'm not too worried. The only thing I am worried about is how the tests had taken more time than usual, and I'm now running 20 minutes late on my daily schedule. That means I have only 7 minutes to eat before my designated afternoon therapies. 

I look around the cafeteria for an open table, but it's strangely packed for a Tuesday afternoon. Finally, I spot the only one left- in the far corner. A big table, meant for at least 5. I hurry to grab the first foods I see- A plate of green beans, a sloppy Joe sandwich and a bag of chips. Oh holy randomness.

I sit at the table and start basically inhaling my food, all the while reading my Narnia book.

"So, I see Max didn't kill you," I hear an all- too familiar voice. Mike is standing above me, a smirk on his face and an apple in his hand.
I smile at him, and he pulls out the chair on the other side of the table to sit. I look at the table, trying to decipher the length of the square separating us. How many feet was it?

"9 feet. I checked," Mike says when he sees my gaze, and I look up at him.
"I wasn't..." I lie, but he cuts me off.
"Yeah, you were." I smile guiltily, and he laughs his rolling laugh again.
"9 feet... So I can even do this," he says. Then, he leans his whole body forward on the table, so that his mess of hair is almost  touching my hands on the table.

But just almost.

My body doesn't seem to realize that though, because my stomach bursts into flames I feel making their way to my face, and I get the almost uncontrollable urge to lean forward and touch his face. Like an electric current, setting me on fire.

Then, the moment passes and I realize my hand is actually reached towards the soft looking black curls.

It feels like the loud room went totally quiet as we both stare at my hand. Me, with complete and utter dismay and him with a not so careful impishness in his brilliant chocolate eyes. I see a smile growing in his face.

My watch beeps. 

Saved by the bell.

I stuff my book in my pocket (thank good for pocket-sizes), grab my tray and get up quickly.
"Hey, where are you going? You didn't even finish your sandw-"  Mike calls, but I start walking away.
"Sorry, late. Catch you later," I yell back, flustered and embarrassed. Next, I dump my tray at the garbage can and stumble out the exit towards my room.

What the hell is going over me?

Just hours before I was telling Max I was ready to basically stay without any touch from Mike forever. I told her I was completely okay with not having any sex, or even kissing.

So how, in one minute and one curl itching it's way towards me on the table, everything changed? God, I didn't even touch him! 

If that's what just being near him feels like, imagine what a hand would do, or a kiss, a small voice in my head whispers, making the back of my neck tinkle with goosebumps. For a moment, I can't help imagining Mike's lips on mine, running my hands in his hair.... under his shirt....

No! what am I doing? B. Cepacia survives best in saliva- a kiss could mean the end of my chance at new lungs. Even a hand can be deadly.
Why can't I snap out of it? for heavens sake, he didn't even touch me! what is my crazy body even reacting too?

I don't know. I don't know what to do to rid myself of this feeling, I don't know what to think.... 

distraction, I need a distraction, I tell myself as I walk into my room. I can't even try to do my therapies, not right now. I open my book, but the words on the page don't mean anything anymore. Even the Harry Potter book can't completely pull me in.

I climb on my bed and open my computer. Netflix could help, right? Friends. Friends is a good show to distract me.
I click on a random episode sometime in the middle of season 6, and luckily it manages to pull me in enough to let me relax a little.

And it works for a good hour or two, Until- an Instagram notification comes down, blocking some of Rachel's face: 

1Mike_Wheeler1: hey

Then another:

U ok? U left kinda sudden and now UR Not answering ur phone

I sigh, and log on.

Fine, sorry, I reply. Then I close my computer with another sigh. My one source of distraction is ruined.
I look at my phone: I have three missed calls and five messages from Mike. My heart cartwheels again, but I just text him back a "tired, ttyl" and close my phone.

I lie back on my bed, thinking what I can do next. It's not like I can (or want) to ignore Mike; we're stuck in the same place... but I think I have to. I just need to take a break- maybe my reaction was just a coincidence, maybe I was just lonely. I just need to stay away for a few days. Quit cold turkey.

Luckily, I have just the plan. I open my laptop again, hoping I can stand not seeing Mike for a whole week. 

                                                                                                          - 𝒲𝒾𝓁𝓁