I sleep terribly. Every time I manage to fall asleep for a few minutes, I’m woken up to get my vitals taken. My mind is racing with everything Oliver and I have said and not said to each other. He’s not snoring tonight, and I hear him tossing and turning too.

No boy has ever called me strong or brave before. I mean, I’m pretty sure I am, but in the same way that I’m pretty sure my hair is strawberry blond. It’s just something that is, something I don’t have time to think about.

No boy has ever called me amazing before either. That one I’m not so sure about.

I keep thinking about my video chat with Becca and Jenna, them giggling together. If I’d hung up, they wouldn’t even have noticed I was gone.

My phone pings and I see that I’ve been tagged in something. It’s a picture of me—one that Oliver took yesterday. I’m smiling in it, and I look so … relaxed. He’s tagged it #quaranteen and #roommates. Roommates. It sounds comfortable and cozy.

I bet Oliver is comfortable to cuddle with.

But he’s my roommate in quarantine because of what I did. And then I remember that my mom is coming tomorrow and I can’t stop thinking about how guilty I feel. I’ve made her already-difficult life so much harder. How will I ever be able to tell her that I faked my fever and that I intentionally dragged Oliver into this? She’s going to be so disappointed in me. I’m so disappointed in me.

Oliver should be disappointed in me too, and knowing that I could disappoint him feels awful.

I toss and turn some more. What have I done?