Five Feet Apart(22)
“Look who just got back from lunch break!”
Luckily, his eyes immediately travel over to see Barb standing in the doorway, and he holds back whatever comments he’s about to make.
“Oh. Hey, Barb.” He clears his throat. Barb smiles at him as he starts rambling on about pears flambé with some kind of reduction. I watch as she slowly closes the door, my heart pounding in my ears until I hear the gentle click of the latch sliding into place.
I exhale slowly as Poe gives me a look.
“Listen. I get what you’re doing. It’s nice.” He looks right into my freaking soul as usual. “But this thing with Will. Is it really the best idea? I mean, you of all people know better.”
I shrug, because he’s right. I do know better, don’t I? But I also know more than anyone how to be careful. “It’s only a couple of weeks, then I’m out of here. He can quit his treatment then for all I care.”
He raises his eyebrows at me, smirking. “Senate-level dodge. Nicely done.”
He thinks I’m crushing on Will. Crushing on the most sarcastic and annoying, not to mention infectious, boy I’ve ever met.
Time to change the subject.
“I’m not dodging anything!” I say. “That’s your move.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at me because he knows full well.
“Ask Michael,” I shoot back.
He ignores me and changes the topic right back. “Please don’t tell me that the one time you’re finally interested in a guy, he’s a CFer.”
“I just helped him with his med cart, Poe! Wanting someone to live isn’t the same thing as wanting them,” I say, exasperated.
I am not interested in Will. I don’t have a death wish. And if I wanted to date an asshole, there are plenty without CF to choose from. It’s ridiculous.
Isn’t it?
“I know you, Stella. Organizing a med cart is like foreplay.”
He studies my face, trying to see if I’m lying. I roll my eyes and slam the laptop shut before either of us can figure out if I am.
“They’re called manners!” I hear Poe’s annoyed voice shout down the hallway to me, followed by the sound of his door slamming shut a few seconds later.
My phone vibrates and I pick it up to see a text from Will.
Lovers’ spat?
My stomach flips again, but I wrinkle my nose, about to delete the message, and then the four o’clock reminder for the AffloVest pops onto my screen, a tiny animated pill bottle dancing. I bite my lip, knowing Will just got the same notification. But will he follow through?
CHAPTER 8
WILL
I carefully shade Barb’s hair, leaning back to look at the drawing I did of her holding a pitchfork. As I’m nodding in contentment, my phone begins vibrating noisily on my desk, making the colored pencils dance. It’s Stella. On FaceTime.
Surprised, I reach over to pause the Pink Floyd song on my computer, swiping right to answer the call.
“I knew it!” she says as her wide eyes come into view. “Where’s your AffloVest? You weren’t supposed to take it off for another fifteen minutes. And did you take your Creon? I’ll bet that’s a no.”
I fake an automated voice. “We’re sorry, you have reached a number that is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error—”
“You can’t be trusted,” she says, cutting into my killer impression. “So, here’s how this is going to work. We’ll do our treatments together so I know you’re really doing them.”
I tuck the pencil I was using behind my ear, playing it cool. “Always looking for ways to spend more time with me.”
She hangs up, but for just a second I swear I saw her smile. Interesting.
*
We stay on Skype for most of the next two days, and surprisingly it’s not all barking orders. She shows me her technique for taking pills with chocolate pudding. Which is freaking genius. And delicious. We breathe in our nebulizers, and do our IV drips, and mark off treatments and meds together in her app. But Stella was right a few days ago. For some reason me doing my treatments is helping her to relax. Gradually she’s becoming less and less uptight.
And, I won’t lie, even after two days, it’s way easier to get out of bed in the morning. I’m for sure breathing better.
On the afternoon of the second day, I start to put on my AffloVest, jumping in surprise when Barb busts through the door, ready for the usual four o’clock fight that we have over it. She always wins the brawl to get it on after threatening to confine me in isolation, but that doesn’t stop me from trying to get out of it.
I slam my laptop down, abruptly ending my Skype call with Stella as Barb and I stare at each other in a classic Old Western standoff. She looks from the AffloVest to me, the steel in her face melting away into a shocked expression.
“I don’t believe my eyes. You’re putting on your AffloVest.”
I shrug like it’s no big deal, glancing at the compressor to double-check that everything is hooked up right. It looks fine to me, but it’s definitely been a while since I’ve done this myself. “It’s four o’clock, isn’t it?”
She rolls her eyes and pins me with a look.