I hear Flora take a shower after her mom leaves. I smell coconut and mint. It’s amazing she can take a shower by herself. A few days ago, I saw a nurse helping her into the bathroom. She’s so strong. I wonder if she remembers me telling my mom that I think she’s strong right before she got sick. I wonder if she’d be insulted if I told her how strong she is again. I wonder if she’d be insulted if I told her a lot of the things I like about her.

I hate that our conversation from yesterday wasn’t finished. I hate that I can’t figure out why she was being weird about Kelsey. I hate that I have a girlfriend and I feel more confused about girls than ever.

I hear Flora go back to her bed and flip on the TV. I want to talk to her. I need to talk to her.

Two soap operas later, I finally say timidly, “Uh, Flora?”

She doesn’t say anything. Maybe she’s asleep? Maybe she’s ignoring me? Maybe she has earbuds in?

I pick up my phone and fiddle with it nervously. I see all the notifications about Kelsey’s latest post on her #favquaranteen, her #untouchableboyfriend.

And all the #quaranteen posts.

I thought Flora was better. Where is she? #quaranteen

Enough of Kelser, I want Floriver! #quaranteen

I send her a text: r u awake?

She writes back: No. Sound asleep.

I laugh.

Then wait.

Finally, I type: can I come over?

If you want.

My mom ordered some new clothes for me online. But after wearing hospital gowns for so long, it feels weird to be wearing normal clothes again. There’s so much more to worry about, keeping buttons buttoned, zippers zipped, everything unwrinkled.

I stand up, smooth my jeans, zip up my hoodie halfway, then unzip it again. Even when I’m in a hospital room, I can’t pull off the loungey casual look without looking and feeling like a doofus.

I open the curtain a little bit, start to walk through, realize I need to open it more, and step back to my side of the room. I pull on the curtain, but too hard, and I accidentally fling it open.

Flora looks up at me from her bed. “Well, that was dramatic,” she says.

The curtain is still swinging behind me and I put a hand on it to stop the swaying.

“So, what’s up?” I try to say casually, but there is nothing casual about me.

“I dunno. You texted me.”

“Oh, right.” Ask her why she was being weird about Kelsey, I tell myself.

It’s just like my fantasies and daydreams about Kelsey all over again. I’ve spent all this time imagining how things will be—how I want them to be—and now she’s awake and it’s different from what I thought and the girl of my daydreams is different from the girl in front of me. Except this is Flora, not Kelsey.

“You’re really feeling better?” I ask.

“That’s the word on the street,” she says.

I want to talk to her about Kelsey, tell her I’m confused about Kelsey, and maybe she is too and that’s why she got weird about her yesterday.

She feels so unreachable, though. She looks at me expectantly. I stare into her eyes, following the advice she gave me about looking into girls’ eyes.

“What are you doing?” Flora jumps and looks away.

I’m confused. “Just looking at you?”

“Well, it’s creepy.”

I want to tell her that looking into her eyes was one of the things she told me girls love, but she’s giving me a dirty look.

“You’re still doing it.”

“I just wanted you to know I was listening to you.”

“Well, I wasn’t saying anything. And you looked like you wanted to eat my soul.”

Just then, Joey comes in, and I’m half-relieved to see him, to put an end to this awkwardness that I can’t figure out.

He gives me a side-eye, but I see Flora blushing while she looks at him. “Hi,” she says to him warmly. Much more warmly than she’s been speaking to me.

“Don’t let your girlfriend see you over here. Rumor is that she’s the jealous type.”

They both laugh, and I say, “No she’s not! Wait, who told you that?”

“Uh, just look at the Internet, dude,” Joey says. “She’s obsessed with you! And your relationship.”

He sits on Flora’s bed and I stand there, sputtering, not sure what I should do. Should I stay? He’s only going to check her vitals. But he is a doctor. Or sort of a doctor or whatever. Maybe I should leave. Do you say bye if you’re only walking back to your side of the room, which is separated by a curtain? Forget the girl handbook, I need a quarantine etiquette handbook.

Joey makes the decision for me and says, “Do you mind, Romeo? A little patient confidentiality.”

“Right.” I go back to my side of the room. This time I don’t have any problems with the curtain.

It’s only after I sit on my bed while I hear them talking and laughing that I realize there really isn’t such a thing as patient confidentiality when we’re sharing a hospital room in quarantine. I also realize they’re talking about pizza, and not about anything medical.

He stays with Flora until her mom arrives, and I remember that her mom is leaving tonight and her dad and Goldy are coming tomorrow. I should have talked to Flora about that. Be a listening ear or whatever, because as much as my mom drives me nuts, I know I’d be sad if she had to leave. Maybe I can talk to her again after Kelsey leaves. Not that I’ll feel any more comfortable around her then.

I don’t understand why it’s suddenly so hard for me to talk to her.

Kelsey is only a couple of minutes late this time, so she doesn’t apologize. Based on my calculations, I’ve noticed that if she’s less than five minutes late, she doesn’t apologize. Six minutes and seven minutes are questionable, but anything eight and over she’ll apologize for profusely. Sometimes her cab drivers get lost, sometimes the elevator is slow. Sometimes she “loses track of time” at her uncle’s house, or on the beach.

I miss worrying about being late for things. Actually going somewhere—going outside.

“How are you?” Kelsey says. “How’s my boyfriend? Can I get you anything?”

She says the same thing every time now, so I say the same thing every time now too. “I’m good, thanks.”

Then she looks at her phone, and I look at my phone, and I try not to think about Flora and what Flora is thinking about, which seems impossible.