Fall With Me

honey, which my dad always made for me when I was sick. I set that, plus a slice of dry toast and a few aspirin, onto a tray. I pass Allison as I’m leaving.
    “Have you seen Griff?” she asks.
    “He’s sick,” I tell her. “He went back to bed.” Her eyes go to the tray. “I’m bringing this to him, and then I’ll be back.”
    “Why don’t I take it to him.” She holds her hands out.
    “I don’t think so.”
    She narrows her eyes and takes a step toward me. “What are you doing, Jill?” she hisses. “What game are you playing?”
              “I don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s sick; I’m bringing him some medicine and some tea.”
    “Yet you won’t let me bring it to him. Why? Do you really think he’d rather you brought it than me?”
    “Actually, yes, I do.”
    She looks as though she’s about to pitch a fit but then thinks better of it.
    “This isn’t a competition,” I say. “So there’s really no need for you to get upset about anything. Why don’t you go eat breakfast with Brett? He’s got an empty spot next to him.” And then I walk away, not caring if the conversation was done in her mind or not.
    He’s huddled on the bed, buried under several blankets. I put the tray on the table and go over with the aspirin and a glass of water. He sits up, his eyes bleary, hair messy.
    “Christ, I feel like shit.” He pops the aspirin into his mouth and washes them down with a sip of water. “But thank you.”
    “You’re welcome.”
    “I think I might have to bail on lunch today. Probably wouldn’t make such a good first impression.”
    I smile. “That’s okay. There’s tea, too, and some toast, if you feel like eating.”
    “Thanks, sweetheart. I don’t right now, but I might later.” He lies back down. “Would you . . . would you lie here with me? Just for a minute. I won’t breathe on you, I promise.”
    I consider refusing, but only for a second. I stretch out next to him and he wraps the blanket around us both. I can feel how hot his face is against my neck.
    “Thank you,” he says, his voice raspy and dreamy sounding. “I turn into a big mushball when I get sick. Just want to snuggle. When I was a kid, though, and got sick, my mom wouldn’t even come into the same room. She’d practically start wearing one of those face masks, and make the maid take care of me. She was kind of a bitch, the maid, but she always made sure I drank plenty of fluids and took my medicine. She certainly wasn’t one for snuggling.”
    “I can’t believe you had a maid.”
    “Eleanor. That was her name. Shit, I wonder what happened to Eleanor.”
    “I ran into Allison on the way out, when I was bringing the tray out here. She wanted to do it. She said you’d rather if she brought it.”
    I feel his laugh, rather than hear it. “Well, I think the desire to snuggle would’ve been nixed if she was the one who brought it.”
    “So . . . what happened between you guys? If you don’t mind me asking.” I consider that now might not be the best time to get into this sort of conversation, but then I think that maybe it is . . . with his guard down, he probably won’t gloss over the truth, though I can’t say whether or not it would change anything.
    “We kissed. It could’ve gone a lot further, trust me, but I was serious when I told you I’m all set with the statutory charges. I have a good instinct, sometimes, when it comes to this sort of thing. The girls that are going to start trouble if you get too involved. And she is definitely one of them. Does that . . . does that bother you?”
    “What, your great instinct?” I say, though I know that’s not what he’s referring to.
    “No, that Allison and I kind of hooked up. It really was just a kiss. Not even a very good one at that. Not like you.”
    I laugh. “No, it really doesn’t bother me.”
    “I’m not just saying that, you know. About you being a really great kisser.”
    “Well, coming from someone with as much as experience as you have, I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”
    “I’m not as experienced as you might think. You’re my first, actually.”
    “You can’t see my face right now, but I’m rolling my eyes.”
    “Well, you’re my first girlfriend.”
    There’s a long pause, and I replay the words he’s just said about a dozen times in my head before he says, “If that’s okay with you. Which I hope it is. I’ve never had an actual girlfriend before, and