I hear the grumpy nurse finish up Flora’s vitals checks. I feel a creeping sense of dread. It’s like a bad dream. We’re not sick, and we’re stuck in a hospital room and no one believes us. Isn’t this what used to happen in old insane asylums? Or maybe it was in a movie I watched. Or a book I read. Or a book based on a movie based on an actual event in history.

Suddenly the curtain rips open, and I see Flora for a split second. The nurse closes the curtain again, looks me up and down. “Vitals check,” she says, sounding even more bored than when she took Flora’s.

She waits for the thermometer to beep and for my blood pressure and pulse to be read. “Normal,” she drones. Then she’s gone.

It’s quiet on Flora’s side of the room. The curtain separating our beds is dark, so I can’t see her outline.

Kelsey keeps texting me, and I want to tell her it’s all a big misunderstanding, that Flora faked her fever and kissed me, but at the thought of Kelsey knowing Flora kissed me, I want to throw up again. I realize how completely and utterly trapped I am.

There’s no way out, I keep thinking.

Kelsey is telling me about a movie she’s watching with Lucy. The plot sounds complicated. Or maybe I’m just not paying close enough attention.

I turn on the TV, catch the news, and there’s a quick story about two teenagers in quarantine in Miami, and I realize the story is about Flora and me. They can’t show our pictures or release our names due to patient confidentiality and all that. But it’s weird to know a news story is about me. It’s like when I hear a recording of my own voice: It’s something that’s familiar but feels so distant and foreign.

There’s no way out. I click off the TV, check Facebook, the post that Kelsey put up, but I can only read who’s Oliver? twenty times before I want to close the app again. But there at the bottom is a comment from someone named Jenna: Eww. I think he’s sharing a room with Flora.

Eww. It sears into my brain. But wait, who is Jenna and how does she know I’m sharing a room with Flora?

A second later my phone buzzes. It’s a new text from Kelsey. Oliver! You didn’t tell me u had a roommate! Should I be jealous? But she adds one of the emojis that is crying and laughing. Because of course she knows she has nothing to be jealous of, since no one would ever get jealous over me. Because I’m Oliver. I suddenly have the urge to tell her I’m in quarantine because Flora kissed me, but the thought feels mean. And I still don’t know how I feel about the kiss. And I still don’t know why she did it.

I touch my lips for a second. The kiss was quick, but I still noticed how soft Flora’s skin was. Even her hands grabbing my face were soft. I think about how she held my hand on the plane, how she wasn’t freaked out about my panic attack. I think about that seal in the video she showed me when Dr. Demarko was talking to my mom. I feel like a scumbag for what I said about her dad marrying her stepmom.

I wonder if Flora has kissed lots of people. It’s weird being so close to her and not talking to her. It’s weird that we are completely and utterly stuck in this room.

Joey brings in dinner trays a little bit later, and I don’t mean to eavesdrop on him talking to Flora, but I also have no choice when her bed is only a few feet away from mine. I know he’s studying to be a doctor or whatever, but he doesn’t strike me as particularly intelligent.

He says something to Flora about visiting Times Square when he was a kid and she actually says, “I love hanging out there.” Which has to be a lie. No New Yorkers actually like going there.

There is something in her voice that isn’t there when she talks to me. It reminds me a little of the flutters in my mom’s voice.

Now they’re talking about basketball and Joey is saying something about the Brooklyn Nets. Flora says she loves basketball, but for some reason I don’t think she means it. I haven’t heard her mention sports teams once. Not that it’s been that long since I’ve known her. And not that I’ll ever know her anymore since we’re not talking to each other.

They keep talking and I keep wondering why he’s not leaving yet. I feel territorial of my room, my space. And, I realize, of Flora. I’m the one she’s supposed to be talking to, not Joey.

After what seems like hours, he finally says something about giving dinner to “your boyfriend,” and I hate how grossed out Flora sounds when she says, “He’s not my boyfriend!”

Then Mr. Grey’s Anatomy says, “So why did you kiss him?” But he says it in a joking way, one that shows he doesn’t actually want an answer. I wonder yet again why she did it.

Joey pulls open the curtain, and I see Flora. She has a different kind of smile on her face, one I haven’t seen yet. It lights up her entire face, and it’s so infectious I can’t help smiling back at her. But the smile quickly changes into a scowl when she sees me looking at her, and she closes the curtain again.

“Dinner, dude!” Joey says. I wonder if he’s ever in a bad mood.

“Thanks,” I say.

He watches me open the tray, and I wonder again why he’s still in my room—our room.

I pick at the iceberg lettuce in my salad, and Joey writes something down on his clipboard again. Finally he says, “You’ll see me or one of my fine colleagues tonight for vitals checks. And tomorrow we’ll do it over again.” He salutes me, and I don’t even know what the proper gesture in response would be, but luckily he doesn’t wait around.

It seems even quieter in our room now with Joey gone. It’s 7:30 p.m., and it feels weird not to be doing homework, getting ready for a new week of school.

I text with Kelsey a little bit more, but she’s talking about some other movie now that sounds even more complicated. My mom of course calls, and she sounds calmer. She’s all packed and ready for her flight. I also know she’s had her nightly glass of wine.

Then it’s 10:30 and I hear Flora go into the bathroom. She comes out a little bit later, smelling like coconuts and mint. I hear her settle into bed, and I realize I should probably do the same. I dig around in my bag. I wish I had actually done laundry before I left my hotel because now all I have is a pile of sweaty, gross clothes. There is a stack of hospital gowns on the chair in my corner. I grab one that’s blue and head to the bathroom. I brush my teeth, change into the gown, and am a little shocked by how much I look like a patient in a hospital.

I climb into the bed, fiddle with the different positions so I’m not sitting so upright, flip on the TV again. Same news story about us as before. Or about “two teenagers.”

I try to sleep. I hear Flora breathing deeply, wonder if she’s asleep. It suddenly dawns on me that I’m spending a night alone with a girl. I spent last night sleeping next to Flora, but we were in an open roomful of people. Now we’re alone in this room together. Well, as alone as we can be when one of the walls of our room is made entirely of glass, and doctors and nurses are coming in and out for vitals checks. But still more alone with a girl than I ever have been before.