See You Smile Page 8

  "Cal, this is my sister, Sarah." I tell him and he grimaces slightly as I turn to Sarah, "Sarah, this is Cal,"

  "Yes," she says, that twinkle still in her eyes, "I know, we just met."

  "Er, Jake." Cal calls, and I turn to him, "I think I should probably go." He looks awkward and tense but I don't want him to go.

  My eyes are pleading and apologetic but he grimaces and looks past me at my sister. I sigh as I accept the inevitable: that this is another missed chance to get to know him better, and it was such a nice feeling having him here looking after me.

  Sarah, at this point, has this smug smirk on her face as she watches Cal and I interact. What is going through her head right now? I probably don't want to know, but I don't want Cal to go without talking to him a little and at least thanking him for being here in the first place.

  I take his hand, trying to ignore the electric shock than course up my arm as I do, and pull him out of the kitchen, through the living room and out to the front door,

  "You know you don't have to go, Sarah probably won't stay long." I am whispering because I don't want Sarah to hear but knowing it doesn't matter how loud I say it to him.

  Cal shrugs, "That's okay, I should go anyway. I just came to check you were okay after last night." I smile at him and touch his arm in thanks,

  "Thank you, that was incredibly nice of you considering I probably acted like an ass." Cal chuckles and his eyes sparkle.

  If I didn't feel so crappy I would be able to enjoy the full impact of that lovely, genuine smile he just gave me and that delightful pink blush on his cheeks, but I can't right now so I store it all away for future reference.

  "You weren't an ass, Jake, you were kinda funny." He tells me, "You were singing." I raise my eyebrows and grimace,

  "Oh God!" I exclaim in embarrassment. He chuckles again,

  "Sometimes being deaf is a blessing." He has a wicked twinkle in his blue eyes,

  "Hey!" I say archly, feeling myself blush, "You can go off some people." He bites his lip but continues to smirk,

  "I really should go though." Before he can turn, as he usually does in order to end a conversation, I stop him with a hand on his arm,

  "Maybe I'll see you later?" I ask, searching his face, clutching at straws, hoping he'll not read anything creepy into this, "We could get a pizza and watch a movie or something. I think I need to apologise for being a drunken ass even if you don't think I was one."

  He smiles and to my delight he nods. My stomach should not have as many butterflies in it as it does right now,

  "Pizza sounds good." He agrees, "I'll come back later, when you're feeling a little better." I roll my eyes and he smirks then makes his escape almost hastily, probably because he doesn't really want to be any longer in the presence of someone who probably smells like a brewery, or worse.

  I watch him disappear down my front steps and across the drive to his house. I know it's cheesy, but in every soppy RomCom I have ever seen the main love interest always glances back at the last minute and smiles. I'm watching to see if he does. Am I a hopeless case? Is he ever going to see me as anything but a friendly neighbour? I doubt it. To him I must seem so old: past it, especially when I look like I do right now.

  He reaches the bottom of his own porch steps and stops, turns back and waves, flashing me another of those amazing smiles, then disappears up and into his house.

  Well, okay, maybe my heart did kind of miss a beat when that happened, but does it mean anything, really? Can I allow it to mean anything?

  It's only when he's actually out of sight that I realise he still has my front door key.

  "He's kinda cute." Sarah tells me as I return to the kitchen. I scowl at her because she has an altogether too smug look on her face,

  "You scared him off, Sarah." I tell her sullenly. She raises her eyebrows as she hands me a much needed mug of coffee,

  "I scared him off?" she asks, "What about you?" she waves her hands up and down in front of me, "You're the one that looks like the first wave of the Zombie apocalypse."

  I groan and rub my hand over my face, then take a sip of my coffee, not bothering to hide my pleasure as the liquid soothes my still raw throat,

  "Good night, last night?" Sarah asks. I nod, "Get drunk?"

  "Very!" I groan,

  "Get lucky?" she continues, and I gasp,

  "What? No!" I exclaim, "I didn't sleep with Cal if that's what you're implying." She raises her eyebrows in disbelief, "I didn't!" I say hoping that will be the end of it, "He came by to see how I was because he's a nice guy and a good neighbour." She looks unconvinced,

  "Okay, don't get snippy," she tells me, "I was just asking."

  "Well don't." I hope my tone warns her to stop digging,

  "He's a little young, Jake." She goes on. I slam my mug down on the bench as her casual comment hits a rather raw nerve,

  "I didn't sleep with him, Sarah." I yell this time. God if my own sister is feeling the need to point out how young Cal is, what is the rest of the world going to think about my attraction for him? I turn to leave, hiding the wince of pain that shouting caused in my head and my throat,

  "Where are you going?" she asks in concern,

  "To take a shower." I huff,

  "Jake, don't be like that, I'm sorry." She says. I stop and sigh,

  "I'm sorry too." I tell her, "Look, Sarah, I'm not the best company today. I'm just gonna go back to bed."

  She walks up to me and places her hand on my forehead looking concerned and I feel terrible for snapping at her,

  "Can I get you anything, sweetheart?" she asks, and I shake my head,

  "No thanks." I say, a little more graciously and gratefully, "It's just a hangover, it's self inflicted."

  She smiles tenderly and gives me a quick peck on the cheek,

  "That doesn't mean you shouldn't have someone to look after you though. I don't mind staying."

  I shake my head, "I'll be fine, and I think Cal is coming back over later. He still has my key." I frown. Why am I not even freaking out about that? I never felt comfortable enough with a neighbour to give them my key before. Why do I feel so comfortable with him? My head hurts too much to have any theories on this puzzle right now though.

  "Okay," Sarah says, with an unreadable expression on her face, breaking my line of thought, "I'll leave you to sleep this off." She fetches her purse from the kitchen bench and turns to leave, "Did you finish your latest manuscript?" she asks. I nod, "Good." She says, "Then you can come over for dinner sometime this week." She gives me a significant look, "It's been a while."

  She leaves me before I can object. I suppose I should make an effort. I don't do "going out" very often though. Last night was the first time in a long while. I usually have to have my arm twisted. Sarah can twist like the best of them.

  Urgh, my head feels like there's a power tool inside it trying to drill its way out and I feel like I got hit by a bulldozer. I need to sleep this off before Cal comes back because I want to be better company than I am right now. I am never drinking again. Ever!

  I stumble back into the kitchen to get some more coffee. I glance at the delicious looking apple muffins that Sarah baked for me but the thought of eating one churns my stomach. I swallow down some pain killers, feeling worse than I did when I first woke up, if that's even possible. I only manage to get as far as the couch in my living room before I collapse there, pulling the comforter over me as I do.

  Jezzie jumps up onto my stomach but I'm too damn tired to shove her off. She starts to get comfortable, kneading the comforter and purring so damn loud it sounds as if the power tool in my head has a twin.

  God I think I'm dying. As I slip into oblivion I wonder who will miss me the most: Jezzie? She'll just find someone else to "own"; Sarah: of course she'll miss me, or will she just miss mothering me? Or Cal: will he miss me? I hardly know him yet he's managed to carve himself a niche in my heart without even trying. I have this urge to protect him that I've never really had before and I
don't understand it.

  Whatever is going on though, will have to wait until I sleep this damn hangover off. Things will be clearer when my head is clearer. Either that or I'll be dead so there'll be no worries at all then.

  Chapter Eight: Not a Hangover

  Not a hangover.

  That is the vague thought that passes through my head as I slowly die on my couch.

  I am vaguely aware of a woman's voice talking somewhere in the distance: Sarah? I thought she went home.

  Someone places a cold cloth on my forehead and tucks a blanket around my shoulders. My head is lifted and a pillow is placed behind it before being gently lowered again. Fingers draw softly down my cheek and I am suddenly very aware that this is not my sister playing nurse.

  My sister would never touch me like this and my body would never react the way it just did as I lean into the caress and moan softly,

  "Hush, Jake." A calm voice whispers softly,

  "Cal?" I croak,

  "Yes." Is the simple answer,

  "What….?" I try to swallow but can't, it hurts so damn much. I try to lift my head, but I can't do that either,

  "Lay still, Jake." He tells me, his hand on my forehead, "You have a fever. I don't think you have a hangover, I think you have flu."

  "Or worse!" I groan, "I think I'm dying." To my surprise I don't get sympathy, Cal chuckles,

  "Don't be such a worry wart, it's just a virus. Oldies are such hypochondriacs." There is so much in that statement to take offense at but I feel far too crappy to be able to respond, "Do you want me to make you anything to eat?" he asks me.

  I open my eyes and see that Cal is sitting cross legged on the floor beside the couch, level with my head. Even through the grit in my eyes he's gorgeous. His blue eyes are full of concern, despite his amused reaction to my pessimism. Is that concern for me? What is he doing here though? Then I remember I invited him over for pizza. I groan,

  "I don't know if I can face food right now, Cal." I tell him, my sore throat making my voice raspy and gravelly, "We might need to take a rain check on that pizza and movie night." He clicks his tongue and gets up,

  "Don't worry about it, Jake. I'll heat some soup for you." He's gone before I can stop him.

  Having any kind of conversation with this guy that is not completely on his terms is going to prove very difficult. When he doesn't want another opinion or any protest to what he's doing he just turns his back. He's either very clever or a pain in the ass. I can't make up my mind.

  As he walks away I can't help noticing his deliciously pert ass in those jeans he's wearing. If he's a pain in the ass then he's a fucking sexy one dammit.

  I flop over onto my back and groan. I am too sick to be thinking things like this, it makes my head hurt.

  I close my eyes for a second and I must drift off because the next thing I know he's back, with soup and telling me I should eat it.

  He helps me sit and I'm surprised by how weak and shaky I feel. This is stupid, it's just a virus, like Cal said. I shouldn't feel so bad.

  Cal gives me a cushion to balance the soup bowl on and hands me the spoon,

  "What?" I ask as I take it off him, "You're not going to feed it to me?" I can't help the snippy tone in my voice and I wonder if he picks up on things like that.

  Watching him purse his lips and fold his arms in front of his chest tells me he does,

  "Eat!" he orders me so I do, in a way that I hope says it is under protest since who the hell is he to order me around like this?

  It's chicken soup, and although my stomach wasn't telling me I was hungry, the smell triggers a rumble. It also triggers memories of childhood when I was sick and my Mom would make me her own chicken soup. I can't help smiling as I swallow the first mouthful despite how much it hurts my throat. I glance up at Cal who is watching me carefully,

  "Okay?" he asks, signing it as well. I chuckle,

  "It's great thanks, and you do realise that is the only sign I know, don't you?" I tell him. He smirks,

  "Oh, I'm sure we can remedy that, sometime." He bites his lip as if he's said something he shouldn't then looks away as he blushes all over.

  It's like he has some kind of new found confidence but isn't quite confident using it yet. It's kind of adorable that he's sassy one minute: self doubting and shy the next. I doubt it will last, since the sassiness and cockiness will eventually overpower the shyness. I hope it doesn't too much though, because damn, that blush….!

  I take another sip of soup, watching him over the rim of the spoon and wondering just how far down the blush goes.

  "Now that you're awake and eating, I'm going into town for the usual groceries." Cal tells me and I frown. Something about that sounds wrong but I can't put my finger on it yet, "I'll get yours too if you want. Do you want me to get anything specific?"

  I frown even harder, trying to think why he would want to go to the store on a Sunday evening, plus there isn't a bus this late, although I have really no idea how late it is,

  "What time is?" I ask him, still frowning,

  "About nine." He says, "I'll have to go soon if I want to catch the next bus."

  I freeze and the soup spoon hovers in my hand half way from the soup bowl to my mouth,

  "Tell me again what time it is. It's far too late for you to go to town even if there was a later bus, it's Sunday. There are no buses." He sighs, seemingly in sympathy, and sits on the floor beside me again,

  "Jake, it's nine am on Tuesday." He tells me gently and I simply stare at him,

  "What?" I ask, "How?"

  How the hell can I have lost a day? I don't remember this. What the fuck?

  "I came back here Sunday night about sixish. To see if you still wanted pizza." He tells me, "I knocked but you didn’t answer and I still had your key so I let myself in. You were asleep here, but you were so hot, and feverish I knew things weren't right." He looks down at his hands that are clenched in his lap, "I got your phone and texted your sister."

  "You did what?" I splutter,

  "I was worried!" Cal tells me defensively, "I couldn’t wake you up. You were delirious." I just stare at him, "She came round. She doesn't live far away huh?" I shake my head, "She told me to keep you cool and that if you were still that bad today I was to call a doctor but you cooled down and slept all of yesterday and peacefully last night…"

  "You've been here two nights?" I ask him incredulously. He nods, "Cal!" I exclaim. What am I supposed to say to that? We hardly know each other but he's willing to nurse me through a high fever, "I don't know what to say, thank you." He smiles,

  "You just said it." He tells me brightly meeting my gaze briefly before lowering his eyes with a slight blush as he pulls himself to standing, "Sarah told me she would come by again this afternoon. You should let her know you're feeling a little better though, she was worried."

  Well, I might have something to say to my sister for leaving me in the care of a relative stranger, although, she thinks we're more than that doesn’t she? She thinks we've already done the horizontal tango so she'd think it was natural for him to want to look after me.