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Chapter nineteen

Chapter nineteen

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•Morgan•

"Hi!" Hayley's overly chirpy voice exclaims as I answer my phone.

"It's too early", I groan.

"It's 10am", she deadpans.

"Like I said, too early", I whine, sitting up in my bed.

"Shush, now... how'd it go?" She sings.

"Well", I drawl. "It didn't".

"What do you mean 'it didn't'?"

"I didn't do it", I say, quietly.

"So you chickened out?"

"No", I can practically feel her rolling her eyes. "Alright fine, yes I did, but it's because I can't just kiss him out of the blue, I need to build up to it, you know?"

"Tell the truth", she sighs, and before I can object, she cuts me off. "And don't even try it, I know you're lying".

"I just don't want him to hate me", I shrug, despite knowing she can't see me. "Ow my throat hurts", I rub my neck.

"Your voice does sound a bit raspy, but I thought it was because you just woke up", she pauses. "Hey, don't change the subject".

"The subject's already over. Bye!" I hang up. I begin to cough, which hurts my throat even more; I reach over for some water however, I don't have any. As I get up to get some, my stomach churns and I run to the bathroom, puking into the toilet. I feel someone next to me as they start rubbing my back.

"You okay?" Romeo asks as I grab some tissue, wiping my mouth. I shake my head, closing my eyes. "Come on", he holds a hand out for me, helping me stand up. He flushed the toilet and grabs my toothbrush, handing it to me. "Give me one second", he walks out of the room while I brush my teeth.

"What's that?" I ask as he walks in with a small box.

"Medicine box—slash—first aid kit", he places it on my bed, so I walk out of the bathroom, sitting opposite him.

"Don't you have like, personal doctors that bring these things?" He shakes his head.

"No need", he says, taking things out of the box. "I graduated from med school early, two years ago", he takes my temperature, putting the thermometer to my forehead.

Didn't know that..

Why isn't he a doctor then?

"So, are you a doctor?"

"No", he sighs, I drop the subject, sensing he doesn't want to talk about it. "You've got a fever. 39.4° Celsius; 103° Fahrenheit", he shows me the thermometer before putting it back in the bag.

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