Chapter Eight

Jackson

“Why aren’t you working on your project?” I asked and then sniffled. We’d watched a few movies—or, rather, Malina had watched a few movies while I slept—but we were just sitting in the dark while she scrolled through her phone and I finished the soup Tutu had made me. I couldn’t taste much of anything, but even just the warmth of the soup helped. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been this sick. Even worse than the coughing or headache or sore throat was just how gross I felt.

“Because I’m sitting here taking care of you,” Malina said, but her tone was teasing.

Could I have taken care of myself? Sure. Did I want to? No. And I felt sorry enough for myself in my weakened state that I gave in and let myself spend the day at her house.

“Will you work on it if I leave?” I asked, setting my empty bowl on the coffee table.

“Maybe. But you don’t have to leave if you don’t want to.”

“Thanks, but I should go.” As much as I didn’t want to go, my mom was home from work, and I was feeling the “going to pass out for the entire night” kind of tired. This day had been an exception. As soon as I went home and got better, I’d be back to focusing on hockey. She’d be back to focusing on school. I’d also be back to trying to forget about the kiss, but that didn’t mean I was happy about it. What Pierce had said the other day ran through my mind. Maybe there was one way to make this day less of an exception. Or maybe it was my head cold dulling my senses, but I asked, “Hey, do you want to come to a party with me?”

“A party?” she asked. “With you? Now?”

“No. Friday. But yeah. A team party. Matthews said we could bring a friend or whoever. Just celebrating the fact that we’re in town and have a night off.”

Both the fact that she didn’t say anything and the hesitant look on her face let me know this had been a terrible idea. Of course she didn’t want to go to a party with me.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I really do have a lot of homework and volunteering to do this weekend. I’m not sure—”

Before she could finish her sentence, I sneezed five times, waited to see if there was going to be a sixth, and then groaned.

She handed me the box of tissues and said, “But I don’t know that I can turn down a dying man’s last wish.”

For a second, I had no clue what she was talking about. It was like my brain was an Etch A Sketch and sneezing had wiped my thoughts clean. But then I remembered. “You mean you’ll go to the party?”

“Maybe,” she said. “If I get enough work done. And if you’re less of a biohazard by then.”

The tight disappointment I’d been prepared for was replaced with hope. “I will be,” I said, and cleared my throat to fight back a cough that would negate that statement. “It’ll be fun. You deserve a night off. But for now”—I stood, hesitating for a second when my stuffy head made me dizzy—“I should let you work on your project. Maybe tonight’s the night you figure it out.”

“Yeah. Maybe your germs have magical STEM properties and they’ve spread all over me.”

I sniffled. “Sorry.”

She laughed. “Kidding. You’re fine.”

This would usually be when I’d hug her. I’d hugged her a thousand times after nights of hanging out like this. Normally, I’d want to hug her to thank her for taking care of me and to steal a tiny bit more comfort from her before heading home. But would I be able to hug her without kissing her? Wondering that felt crazy, but then again, the kiss had happened with much less than a hug.

Before I could think of what to do, Malina made the decision for me. She leaned in and wrapped her arms around me, her head up against my chest. Naturally, I pulled her close, but the whole time I was thinking, Don’t kiss her. Don’t pay attention to the way her hair smells like mangoes and she feels so good in your arms. You’re sick and gross and she wouldn’t want you to kiss her even if you weren’t. Do. Not. Kiss. Her.

Then she let me go, and I followed suit. Success. But wow, my bar for success had really lowered that I considered “not accidentally kissing my best friend” to be any kind of success. And that was only a partial success, because it didn’t mean I didn’t want to kiss her.

“Thank Tutu for the tea and the soup from me.”

“I will. Do you think you’ll be at school tomorrow?”

I shrugged. Honestly, I’d look for any excuse to get out of school, and a nose that was running like a faucet and a cough that made me sound like a pack-a-day smoker was a pretty good excuse. The only reason I’d want to be there would be to see her. But seeing her wasn’t the best idea for many reasons. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

“Okay. Feel better.”

I put on my coat and headed out to my car. When I got there, despite the cold, I just sat in the front seat and smiled. Malina was going to the party with me. As a friend, but still. And I’d hugged her. And maybe that hug was better than the kiss because she initiated it. And I loved the way she felt in my arms.

I knew this couldn’t go anywhere. I knew with my hockey and her school and what had happened between us this past week that nothing could happen with Malina. I knew all of that.

But that didn’t stop me from smiling the whole way home.