I deliberate for a good five minutes before deciding to go upstairs. Once I’m outside of Max’s closed bedroom door it takes me another few minutes to regain my resolve.

I softly knock on his door. Silence greets me and I feel the panic begin to rise in my chest, a result of the few horror movies I’ve endured, I’m sure.

I slowly push down on the lever, praying I don’t see anything that will make me want to bleach my retinas. I push the door open just wide enough to peek in, and a wave of Max’s scent greets me before I see him in a tangled heap on his bed. Thankfully alone.

Slowly, I take a few steps closer and notice that he’s covered in a sheen of sweat. Reaching the side of his bed, I gently place my hand to his forehead and feel the heat of his fever.

I spend most of the day reading as Max sleeps and occasionally incoherently mumbles. I wake him up twice to take something for his fever.

“What time is it?” I look up to see Max looking pale and pained as he squints, trying to focus on me as I stand from the beanbag chair.

“Nearly eight. How are you feeling?” Although I’ve been here all day, I suddenly feel like I’m intruding as I rest my e-reader on the chair.

Max turns to look out the window, and I realize he’s not clear if it’s morning or evening. “Shit, Ace, I’m sorry,” Max groans, lifting a hand to run it over his face. “You should go. I threw up like four times last night. Didn’t you get my text?”

I’d looked at my phone more times than I care to admit this morning checking for any missed calls or texts. It’s pretty obvious why I never received them.

My mind wants nothing more than to retreat at the mention of puke; there are few things I hate more, but my traitorous body only steps closer to him.“It’s time for you to take these again,” I say, opening the pill bottle I’d left on his night stand and shake a couple of pills into my palm. I hold them out with the glass of ginger ale. Max looks at me a brief moment before accepting them.

“Again? How long have you been here? How’d you get in?”

“A while,” I admit vaguely. “Landon came by looking for you, and I remembered you telling me about the sunroom. I figured you wouldn’t be on the other side with a shotgun.” I grin and Max gifts me with a low, throaty laugh.

“Really though, you should go. I don’t want you getting sick.”

“Max, your mom’s out of town all week. Landon’s staying in San Diego, and Jameson is being an ass up in Washington. I’m not leaving. I’m going to go get you something to eat. Here’s the remote and your phone. I’ll be right back.”

He slowly moves to sit up. “You know, you’re kind of bossy when you want to be.”

“I’m one of five girls, what did you honestly expect?”

I return to find Max looking half asleep, watching a baseball game. “I’m sure nothing sounds very good right now, but you should eat a little.”

His eyes widen as he looks from the tray I set in front of him. “You made me soup?”

“Actually I heated soup up for you.” I wink at him and take a seat at the foot of the bed. “Even a few crackers would be better than nothing.”

“I really am worried you’re going to catch this. You wash your hands and disinfect everything so much your immune system will be under siege.”

“You should try it. Maybe you wouldn’t be so sick.” Max gives me half of a grin and reaches for the toast, dunking it in the soup and chewing it slowly. He only makes it through half of the piece before he stops, and I remove the tray as he slumps down half asleep.

I get myself situated back in the beanbag chair and immerse myself into the story.

“I want you to stalk me, Ace,” Max whispers.

My eyes flash to his which remain closed. I stare at him, waiting for him to elaborate, desperate for him to continue. Is he asking me to love him? My head drowns in possibilities and thoughts, and before I can think of how to prompt him, he’s softly snoring.

It takes Max three days of sleeping, throwing up, and feeling miserable to start feeling better, but when I wake up on Tuesday morning he’s already awake, quietly lying beside me. He’d asked me to lie with him to watch the movie I’d put in last night saying my body heat felt good since he was still experiencing mild chills. He’d fallen asleep nearly instantly, and went full-fledged Kendall on me—wrapping a leg over one of mine and hooking his foot around my calf. I’d tried to move, but it kept stirring him so I thought I would just sit there and read a bit and move once he rolled away. Apparently I fell asleep too.

“Hey,” I whisper. “You look more like you this morning. How are you feeling?” I feign casual, like waking up in his bed is nothing to freak out about.

Max’s lips are a little dry, and his skin looks a little sallow from being sick, but he’s still unbelievably attractive. I watch as his mouth turns up in a small grin and feel my breathing stop again. “I feel a lot better this morning.” Max’s stomach growls, making me smile in relief as I sit up. “I’m going to get something to eat. What can I get you?”

“Why don’t you sit up and I’ll get you something to eat. Then we’ll see how you’re feeling.”

“I’m good.”

“Humor me.” I turn toward the door and he grabs my wrist, tugging me back to the bed. My eyes quickly dance across his face trying to recognize his expression.

“Ace …”

I don’t allow him to finish his sentence, I don’t need any accolades, and I don’t want him to feel obliged to me. I just want things to go back to normal between us. “I need to make sure you get better quick, otherwise I may have to begin running with Marshall, and he sort of has that creepy, abduct-girls-in-a-van vibe going on.”

Max smiles, his eyes falling to where his hand grips my arm. He slowly releases his hold on me, and I cross the room without looking back.

I hear the shower turn on as I enter the kitchen and decide to wait a few moments before lowering the bread into the toaster so it’s warm. My phone shows a message from my dad that I focus on. We briefly discuss Max’s health as I omit mentioning I stayed another night.

“Hey.” I jump and turn to see Max in a clean pair of jeans and T-shirt, looking slightly more lifelike. “Sorry,” he says with a playful grin that tugs at my heart. I haven’t seen this face in too long.

“I swear you need to walk with around with a bell around your neck.” I place my phone on the counter and push the bread down. Max smiles again, leaning his hip against the counter.

“Alright, if you can pass the toast test again this morning, I think you’ll be clear to eat something a bit more exciting for lunch. But I’ll let you venture out … you can have either jam or peanut butter on it this morning,”

Max reaches in the silverware drawer and produces a knife. He pulls the plate toward himself and starts slathering one slice in peanut butter as I pull out the other two slices for myself.

“So how are things going?” Max asks tentatively.

I glance at him as he finishes putting jam on the other piece. Without saying anything he takes my plate from me and passes me the two he just prepared the way I fix my toast. My eyebrows are still knitted as I look from the toast to him, and he shrugs dismissively, straightening to his full height.

“I saw Jenny a couple of nights ago.” His eyes are focused on the strawberry jam he’s spreading. “She asked me if you and I ever got the chance to talk and wanted to know what had happened between us.”

“I was confused at first, not sure what she was referring to, and she mentioned your lunch with Eric that you never went on, and I remember you—”

The doorbell chimes throughout the house breaking the intense stare that Max and I share. My pulse pounds and my eyes widen with disbelief as I wonder if Jenny told Max what my intentions had been. I want to tell Max. I want to tell him that I’m going to dump Eric because although I haven’t seen him in the last couple of weeks, I still haven’t officially ended things either. The words are slowly working to fit together to explain why, and to ensure him that my delay isn’t because I want things to work out with Eric.