A Very Large Expanse of Sea(34)

“Really?”

He looked suddenly annoyed. “You think I’d let my sister walk home with a fever?”

“I don’t have a fever.”

“Yeah,” he said. “You do.”

He wasn’t wrong. I’d gotten home earlier than usual, so my mom and dad weren’t back from work yet. Navid brought me water, gave me medicine, and tucked me into bed. I didn’t feel sick, though, I just felt strange, and I didn’t know how to explain it. There was nothing apparently wrong with me except that my temperature had spiked.

Still, I slept.

When I awoke, the house was dark. I felt woozy. I blinked and looked around, parched, and grabbed the bottle of water Navid had left me. I drained the bottle, rested my hot head against the cool wall and wondered what the hell had happened to me. Only then did I notice my phone on my bedside table. I had five unread messages.

The first two were from six hours ago.

hey

how was practice?

There were three more messages, sent ten minutes ago. I checked the time; it was two in the morning.

you’re probably asleep

but if you’re not, will you call me?

(i’m sorry for using up all of your text messages) I wasn’t sure I was in the right headspace to call anyone at the moment, but I didn’t think it through. I pulled up his number, called him right away—and then I burrowed under my covers, pulling the sheet up over my head to help muffle my voice. I didn’t want to have to explain to my parents why I was wasting precious phone minutes talking to a boy at two in the morning. I had no idea what I’d say.

Ocean picked up on the first ring, which made me wonder if maybe he was hiding from his mom, too. But then he said “Hi,” out loud, like a normal person, and I realized that no, it was just me whose parents were up her ass all the time.

“Hi,” I whispered. “I’m hiding under my covers.”

He laughed. “Why?”

“Everyone is asleep,” I said quietly. “My mom and dad would kill me if they found me on my phone this late. Also, minutes are expensive.”

He said, “Sorry,” but he didn’t sound sorry.

“I have a fever, by the way. I’ve been in bed this whole time,” I explained. “I just woke up and saw your messages.”

“What?” he said, alarmed. “What happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you feel okay now?”

“I feel a little weird, but I’m okay, I think.”

He was quiet just a beat too long.

“You still there?” I said.

“Yeah. I just—I didn’t think about it until you said it, but I haven’t been feeling great, either.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I just . . .”

I felt my head sparking again.

“Can we please talk about this?” His voice was soft, but scared. “I know you’ve been avoiding me but I don’t know why and if we don’t talk about this I just— I don’t—”

“Talk about what?”

“Us,” he said, the word a little breathless. “Us, God, I want to talk about us. I can’t even think straight around you.” And then, “I don’t know what’s happening anymore.”

I felt my mind slow down even as my heart sped up. An awful, wonderful nervousness seized me around the throat.

I felt paralyzed.

I wanted so desperately to say something, but I didn’t know what to say, how to say it, or whether I should even bother. I couldn’t seem to decide. I was suddenly overthinking everything. And we’d been lost in the silence for several seconds when he finally said— “Is it just me? Am I imagining this?”

The sound of his voice broke my heart. I had no idea how Ocean could be this brave. I had no idea how he could make himself this vulnerable. There were no games with him. There were no confusing, meandering statements with him. He just put himself out there, his heart exposed directly to the elements, and wow, I respected him for it.

But it scared me so much.

In fact, I was beginning to wonder whether my fever wasn’t simply a consequence of this, of him, of this whole situation, because the more he spoke, the more delirious I felt. I felt my head swimming, my mind slowly evaporating.

I closed my eyes. “Ocean,” I finally whispered.

“Yes?”

“I—I just—”

I stopped. Tried to steady my head. I could hear him breathing. I could feel him waiting for something, anything, and I could feel my heart ripping open and I realized there was no point lying about this. I thought he deserved to know the truth, at least.

“You’re not imagining it,” I said.

I heard his hard exhale. When he spoke, his voice was a little rough. “I’m not?”

“No. You’re not. I feel it, too.”

Neither of us said anything for a while. We just sat there in the silence, listening to each other breathe.

“So why are you pushing me away?” he said finally. “What are you afraid of?”

“This,” I said. My eyes were still closed. “I’m afraid of this. There’s nowhere for this to go,” I said to him. “There’s no future here—”