Five Feet Apart(20)

But nothing is going to get me back on a lung transplant list. And every week we waste, more of my lung function wastes away too.

“It colonized so freakin’ fast,” I tell Poe, putting the front legs of my chair back on the ground. “One minute I was at the top of the transplant list, and then one throat culture later . . .” I clear my throat, trying not to let the disappointment show, and shrug. “Whatever.”

No sense dwelling on what could’ve been.

Poe snorts. “Well, I am sure that attitude”—he mimics my shrug and hair flip— “is what’s driving Stella crazy.”

“Sounds like you know her well. What’s that about, anyway? She said she’s just a control freak, but . . .”

“Call it whatever you want, but Stella’s got her shit together.” He stops rolling the skateboard and gives me a big smile. “She definitely keeps me in line.”

“She’s bossy.”

“Nah, she’s a boss,” Poe says, and I can tell from the expression on his face that he means it. “She’s seen me through thick and thin, man.”

Now I’m curious. I narrow my eyes. “Have you guys ever . . . ?”

“Hooked up?” Poe says, tilting his head back to laugh. “Oh, man. No way! No. No. No.”

I give him a look. She’s cute. And he clearly cares about her. A lot. I find it hard to believe that he never even tried to make a move.

“I mean, for one thing, we’re both CFers. No touching,” he says. This time he’s giving me the calculated look. “Sex isn’t worth dying for, if you ask me.”

I snort, shaking my head. Clearly, everyone on this wing has just had “fine” sex. For some reason, everyone thinks that if you’ve got a disease or a disorder or are sick, you become a saint.

Which is a crock of shit.

CF might actually have improved my sex life, if anything. Besides, the one perk of moving around so much is that I don’t stay anywhere long enough to catch feelings. Jason seems pretty happy since he got all sappy with Hope, but I don’t really need more serious shit in my life.

“Second, she’s been my best friend practically my whole life,” he says, bringing me back to the present. I swear he’s getting a little teary eyed.

“I think you love her,” I say, teasing him.

“Oh, hell yeah. I fucking adore her,” Poe says like it’s a no-brainer. “Would lie down on hot coals for her. I’d give her my lungs if they were worth a shit.”

Damn. I try to ignore the jealousy that swims into my chest.

“Then I don’t get it. Why—”

“She is not a he,” Poe says, cutting me off.

It takes a second for the penny to drop, but then I laugh, shaking my head. “Way to bury the lead, dude.”

I’m not sure why I’m so relieved, but I am. I stare at the dry-erase board hanging on the door directly above his head, noticing a big heart drawn on it.

If Stella’s trying to keep me alive too, she must not completely hate me, right?





CHAPTER 7


STELLA


“Just give me ten minutes,” I say, shutting the door and leaving Will and Poe out in the hallway.

I look around his room as my app downloads onto his phone, seeing the note I slipped under his door this morning sitting on top of his bed.

“Text me when you have the med cart. (718) 555 3295. I will be over this afternoon to set everything up.”

I knew that one would be tricky, especially because Will and Barb are clearly not on the best of terms, so she wouldn’t advocate for him, but he went above her head and managed to charm Dr. Hamid. I pick up the note, noticing he’s drawn a tiny cartoon along the edge, of an angry Barb in her signature colorful scrubs, pushing a med cart and screaming, “DON’T MAKE ME REGRET THIS!”

I shake my head, a smile slipping onto my lips as I put the note back down and walk over to the actual med cart. I rearrange a few pill bottles, making sure one more time that everything is in the same chronological order as what I programmed into the app after cross-referencing his Donkey Kong–covered regimen.

I double-check his laptop to see how much longer for the download to be complete from the link I sent him, trying not to breathe more than I have to in this B. cepacia–laden room.

Eighty-eight percent complete.

My heart jumps as I hear noise outside the doorway, and I yank my hand away from the keyboard, worried we’ve been caught. Please don’t be Barb. Please don’t be Barb. She should be on her lunch break, but if she’s back already, getting a jump on her Monday-afternoon rounds, she’ll murder me.

Will’s footsteps echo back and forth, back and forth, in front of the doorway, and I tiptoe to the door, almost pressing my ear up against it. But I’m relieved to hear only the two of their voices.

“You wiped everything down, right?” Poe says.

“Of course I did. Twice, just to be safe,” Will shoots back. “I mean, clearly, this wasn’t my idea, you know.”

I adjust the isolation gown over the top of my disposable scrubs, and yank open the door, squinting at them through my goggles.

Poe spins around on his skateboard to face me. “Man, Stella. Did I tell you how fiiine you look today?”