Chapter 21 - A Million Rainbows

Charlie woke up sick on Friday morning. If it hadn’t been for the fever, I would have left her at home with Mom and gone to school. But she needed regular doses of Tylenol to keep her temperature under control.

Even though Mom was still off the bottles—almost two whole weeks now—I still didn’t feel comfortable leaving feverish Charlie to her care, so I called us both out of school.

By the time Sunday rolled around, Charlie was feeling better, and I was the one laid up in bed.

I texted Kyle Sunday morning to let him know I wouldn’t be able to come over.

Sick. Sorry.

I wrote that in the middle of a sneezing fit, then hit send, figuring he’d be able to decipher it.

Dover, are you canceling on me?

Yes. I’m a mess. Sorry.

How sick? You can come be sick at my house …

I was feverish. My nose was oozing like an overripe raspberry. I looked like a red Slimer from Ghostbusters.

No. You don’t want to see me like this. Not pretty.

I can tell you for certain that I want to see you like that.

I was feeling too weak to smile, but it was big and stupid inside my congested chest; he really had me believing that shit.

Kyle texted back: Will you be at school tomorrow?

Yeah. Can’t miss another day.

My tardies and absences were piling up, and the school was going to say something soon if I kept missing.

Hey, why don’t you come over after school tomorrow? I can watch Charlie for you. You can sleep in my room or in the guest room?

Kyle was like a dreamy pillow. All I wanted to do was hug him and snuggle up with him for making that offer.

Charlie was feeling much better—too much better. And she was using all her bottled-up energy and wouldn’t stop bouncing around the room, constantly waking me up and asking me to do stuff for her. I hadn’t been able to rest for more than twenty minutes at a time.

I texted him back: Yeah. Maybe.

We’ll meet you at Charlie’s school tomorrow.

Somehow, I managed to get myself out of bed on Monday. The morning was a blurry fog of a memory, but I got the text from Mrs. Patterson, which meant I had also managed to get Charlie up and ready.

I must have looked awful because Kyle decided it was bad enough to abandon our we-don’t-know-each-other-at-school rule, and he sat right next to me in math. There were only a couple of other kids in the class with us. None of them Lyndsay. Not yet.

“Bree, you look like shit,” he said.

“Thanks.”

Kyle leaned into the aisle. “You can go to the nurse. She’ll send you home if you have a fever. Which you obviously have.”

“You need a parent to pick you up. Sign you out.” I was struggling to unwrap a sticky cough drop. I gave up, letting it fall to my desk in defeat.

Kyle reached and took it from me. “Your mom can’t come and sign you out?”

“She won’t.” That would require Mom waking up, getting dressed, walking a mile to school on a cold, rainy morning, and then entering the world of actual parenting for five minutes.

Kyle handed me the unwrapped lozenge. “Go to the nurse, anyway. Mrs. Smith will let you sleep. I’ve done it before. There’s a cot and blankets.”

“There is? Really?”

“Yeah.”

The class was filling up, and Lyndsay walked through the door. Something about being feverish and on the verge of vomiting made me care a lot less about Lyndsay and her fire-hot glares. These flu-induced anxiety inhibitors were kind of nice, actually. Bottle these babies, I wanted to tell someone. But it was just me and my crazy fever brain.

Kyle still had his wits about him, and he straightened up and stopped talking to me.

Sue and Kyle were at the elementary waiting for me when I arrived to get Charlie. I crawled into the backseat of their car and proceeded to pass out in the cozy interior. I didn’t even remember getting Charlie because I hadn’t. Kyle or his mom must have gotten her for me.

At the house, Sue shuffled me up a flight of stairs, a different flight of stairs, on the opposite side of the house from the game room.

We entered a beautiful guest room, all cream and rose-colored. It was softly decorated with sheer curtains, a quilted headboard, and a puffy down comforter on the bed. There was a private bathroom, which I was relieved to see because my rancid stomach was going to purge one way or another before this was over.

I guess Kyle had at some point informed his mom that I was sick because she had homemade chicken noodle soup ready for me. She hooked me up with a steamy bowl right next to the bed, along with orange juice and a dose of NyQuil.

If I wasn’t already in love with Kyle, I was at that point. I was in love with him and his mom.

Screw homework. Screw tomorrow’s history test. Screw everything. I just slept. And it was amazing.

It was late when Kyle came back into the room. He didn’t say anything. He just lay on top of the bed, on top of the blankets, quietly watching me.

I turned onto my side to face him. “What time is it?” I asked, my voice croaking out like a dying seal.

“Nine.” He reached and rubbed my arm, then tugged up the blanket, pulling it over my shoulder.

“Geez, I’ve slept all day.”

I looked around the darkened room, amazed by my surroundings. The light coming from the open bathroom was dimly lighting the space. It was all so lovely. Pretty artwork on the walls. Flowers, maybe fake (but I couldn’t tell), on the dresser and nightstands. Plush wall-to-wall carpeting that looked fresh and new. I felt like Sleeping Beauty waking up in a castle, complete with a handsome prince by my side. Maybe I was dreaming?

“How are you feeling?” asked Kyle.

“Better.” I tried pushing into a sitting position, but my bones were lead and I fell back to my side. “How did it go with Charlie?”

“She was great. My mom entertained her for a while in the kitchen. They made cookies. Then we played a little Mario Kart on the Switch. She’s passed out in the game room now.”

“They made cookies?” That was too cute. “Your mom’s amazing.”

Kyle nodded. “Yeah. She kind of likes you, too. You and Charlie.”

That made me smile. “I guess we should get going, though.”

“Hey,” said Kyle, “I’ve already talked to my mom about it, and she said you could sleep over.”

That idea was alluring, and I had absolutely no desire to get out of this heavenly bed, but … “I gotta go to school tomorrow. I don’t have clothes here.”

“Well, we can drop you off at your house in the morning so you can change.”

“Really?”

He poked my arm. “Really. Do you want to watch TV for a few minutes?”

“Is there a TV in here?” There wasn’t that I could see.

Kyle rolled over, grabbing two remotes from the nightstand beside him. He pointed a remote at the wall in front of us. A large, framed painting—an acrylic bloom of big pink and cream roses, beautifully matching the rest of the decor—lifted, sliding up the wall and revealing the hidden black screen behind it.

“My mom thought it was cool,” said Kyle.

“It is cool,” I agreed.

Kyle turned the TV on, clicking on Netflix and putting The Office on. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah. I’ve never seen it.”

“Are you serious?” He looked confused.

“Yeah, well, I don’t have Netflix.”

That took Kyle by surprise. I could tell it did. Doesn’t the whole world have Netflix? That’s what he was thinking. “I’ll give you my password,” he said.

He put the remotes back on the nightstand and then propped up on his elbow, facing me. “So I was thinking if you’re up for it, we could talk about what was bothering you the other day?”

I stared at Kyle for a second. “You mean lunch last week?”

“Yeah, you looked upset about something. I can’t get that vacant stare of yours out of my head.”

“Well, the vacant stare was because I couldn’t see you.”

“What do you mean?”

I waved my hand in front of my eyes. “I’m as blind as a bat.”

He narrowed his gaze. “Wait, do you need glasses?”

The way he asked that made me feel like I was in trouble. “Yeah,” I said, unsure whether I should go with the truth here.

“Like how bad?”

“Well, like I wouldn’t be sitting in the front row of math every day, bad.”

“Dover,”—he was still looking at me like I had done something wrong—“why don’t you have glasses if you need glasses?”

“I broke the last pair I had. I haven’t been back to the eye doctor. It’s been a few years.”

“Shit,” he said. “I should have bought you those Armanis, huh?”

“Oh my god, Kyle. No. You can’t buy me Armani glasses. Please.” I was pleading. I would look so foolish wearing such an expensive pair of glasses.

He chewed his lip. “What about something cheaper?”

He wanted to buy me glasses. How are you supposed to respond to someone wanting to buy you glasses? “Um … I don’t know.” I shrugged up my free shoulder, trying to figure out how we had gotten on this topic in the first place, kind of wishing we hadn’t. I didn’t want him to feel like he had to pay for all the crap I couldn’t afford.

“Dover, when’s your birthday?”

“July. You’re older than me.”

He shook his head. “July? That’s too far away.” He sighed, a frumpy frown lingering on his lips as he scanned me. “So … uh …” He paused, running a finger over the top of my hand that rested on the bed between us, drawing small circles on my skin. “Well, if you and me are going to be a thing, then you’re going to have to let me buy you stuff. And it’s not always going to be as practical as a phone and eyeglasses.” He twitched his eyebrows, waiting for my response.

I was no longer thinking about the glasses. “A thing? Like officially?”

He nodded. “Yeah, like officially.”

The smile on my face was so big it touched my toes. I felt it. My whole body, as warm as all the stars.

Kyle was smiling, too. He leaned into me, lingering a kiss away.

“You’re going to get sick,” I warned.

“Probably worth it,” he muttered, his warm lips molding with mine, taking all my oxygen because I couldn’t breathe through my stuffy nose. But it was definitely worth it.

Kyle released his lips, and I gasped for air.

He moved back, being quiet for a second. “So the stare wasn’t so vacant,” he said, “but you were still worried about something?”

I closed my eyes, curling my fingers at the bridge of my nose, trying to hide behind them. “Yeah,” I said. But that’s all I said. I didn’t know how to talk about this, and I felt like I was going to ruin everything.

Kyle pulled my hand down. We were both resting with our heads on a pillow, and he was just inches away, staring right into my eyes. “So remember what I said.” He ran a finger down the center of my forehead, then continued to trace my nose. “You don’t have to keep stuff from me. It’s kind of what I’m here for.”

“This might be different,” I said, pulling my shoulders in, completely uncertain about how he would take this.

“Try me.”

I sighed, hating this so much. It was awful. Gut sinking, awful. Digging your own grave, awful. “Well, I’m afraid you might want to take back the official thing,” I said. “Which is fine, I guess.”

“That would be fine with you?” Kyle frowned.

“No,” I said, blowing out my cheeks. “No.”

“Just tell me,” said Kyle. “It would have to be pretty incredible for me to want to take that back.”

I swallowed.

He was looking right into my eyes. I hadn’t expected to have this conversation with him looking so intently into my eyes. I pulled the blanket up between us a little and fiddled with the soft fabric, focusing on my fingers instead of Kyle. “So. Um … I’ve never had a boyfriend before.” I lifted my gaze, meeting his, but I found it too unnerving and was back, looking at my hands. “And I really—like, really, really—like you. But there’s just stuff I know for sure that I’m not ready for. And I don’t know when I will be.”

There, I’d said it. My lousy cards were on the table. Take them or leave them, Kyle.

I waited, not holding my breath. I couldn’t look him in the eyes, so I focused on his ear instead.

He had nice, just-the-right-size ears. Kyle’s golden skin was perfect, even on his ears. And his salon-cut hair, from his temple to the nape of his neck, was shaped so precisely around them. It was always so neatly cut like that, too, like he made regular visits to the salon every week. Maybe he did.

Kyle waved a finger in front of my eyes, pulling my gaze back to his.

He was staring at me, being quiet, biting his lip a little. “So, Bree,” he said. “I kind of like you, too. Like really, really like you. Like I would wait for you forever … like you.”

I let go of the breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. My heart, swelling. My chest, melting away, making room for it.

“Well, it wouldn’t be forever,” I said, wiping at the corners of my misty eyes. “I just want to wait until it’s not a thing.”

His eyebrows came together. “A thing?”

“Yeah, it just feels like something else to worry about right now, you know?”

“Like something else added to your plate?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Sorry. I know it’s probably not what you expected.”

Kyle shook his head against the pillow, his eyes troubled with regret. “Hey, no. You don’t have to say sorry to me. I didn’t expect anything.”

“But didn’t you and um …” I couldn’t believe I was bringing Lyndsay up. NyQuil and fever—good for giving you the guts to say way too much. And I was gonna keep rolling with it, I guess. “Well, didn’t you guys?” I nudged my head at him awkwardly, trying to shove the rest into his brain without actually having to say it.

Kyle looked away from me for the first time. He stared past my shoulder. “Uh … yeah,” he said. He came back to me with a warm smile. “But that doesn’t mean we have to. I don’t want it to be a thing either. If you’re not ready, you’re not ready.”

I lifted a weak smile. I was feeling a lot of things, like awkwardness, and thankfulness, and a weird jealousy over him and Lyndsay, which I knew was stupid and unfair but …

Mostly, I was feeling better. At least relieved to know he wasn’t running. He wasn’t running; he was lying right beside me, being all Kyle-perfect, like always.

“Thanks, Kyle.”

He shook his head. “There’s no reason to thank me.”

He lifted onto his elbow, leaning in for a kiss. “I’m going to go get you something to eat. Does soup sound okay?”

I nodded.

“Okay. We’ll eat. Watch some TV. Then I’ll let you get back to sleep.” He patted my shoulder and got up.

“I can’t believe I get to sleep in this dreamy bed,” I said, happily stretching out under the blankets.

Kyle stopped at the door. “That bed is yours, Dover. Anytime. And I’m serious about that.” He popped his lips. “That message comes from me and my mom.”