Vain (The Seven Deadly, #1)(18)

“Why?” I asked curiously, just now wondering why I never asked questions before.

“Because of your,” Dr. Ford said, clearing his throat and glancing at Spencer, “increased activity as of late.”

“I see,” I said simply. Spencer laughed and I elbowed him. “Continue.”

“I’ll give you a revamp of the flu shot. Let’s see,” he said, glancing down at a few different sheets of paper. “A meningococcal booster dose, MMR or measles, mumps and rubella. Uh, pneumococcal, very important, polio you have, rabies,” he said, looking over a chart, “you’ll need a refresher on. You’ll need typhoid but varicella you’ve had.” He looked up at me. “Yes, that’s it.”

“That’s it!” I exclaimed, grasping Spencer’s hand.

“Calm yourself, Miss Price. You’ll need to follow strict food and water precautions while abroad. Consume only canned or commercially bottled drinks. Avoid using ice cubes, though I doubt they’ll have refrigeration where you’re going, which is also why you should only eat fruits and vegetables you peel and wash yourself. Avoid cold cuts, salads, watermelon, puddings.”

Dr. Ford looked up at me.

“It goes without saying, Miss Price, but do try to avoid casual sexual contact. I cannot stress that enough.” I rolled my eyes at him. “Never use needles or syringes used by other people. Avoid sharing a razor or toothbrush. No tattoos or piercings while there. Remain in well-screened or air-conditioned areas when possible. Wear clothing that adequately covers your arms and legs and use DEET-containing insect repellent on both your skin and clothing. Refuse blood transfusions unless in a life or death situation and try to ensure they’ve been properly screened first.”

“Yes, if I’m dying and in desperate need of blood, I’ll be sure to ask if the blood’s been properly screened first.” Deflecting your fear through sarcasm. Nice, Soph. He’s only trying to help you.

Dr. Ford’s face became deadly serious. “You do not understand, Miss Price. This is no joking matter. You are visiting a highly-diseased area. The things I am trying to protect you from can be the difference between dying a painful, horrible death...or not.”

Right, thanks for that visual, doc.

“Cassandra will be bringing by an immunization record to keep with your travel documents. Don’t lose it. They may not let you back in the country if you can’t prove you’ve taken preventative measures.”

“You’re shitting me,” Spencer piped in.

“Hardly,” Dr. Ford replied, now rolling his own eyes. “Shall we get started?” Dr. Ford asked, turning to me.



“You will be feverish and sore in the injected areas but Tylenol should help you there. Get some rest,” Dr. Ford added after the shockingly painful administrations, right before closing the door behind him and Cassandra.

“You should probably take those pain meds now,” Spencer said. “My mom always made me take them right before my shots as a kid so I’d avoid getting ill later.”

“They’re in my bathroom. Shelf,” I said, lying down.

Some of the shots I’d gotten hurt tremendously. I’m not joking. The needles were huge and the injections felt warm and invasive.

Spencer brought me a glass of water and a fever reducer. I drank it down quickly. We both laid down on the bed facing the ceiling after I turned the stereo on low.

“Well, that was enlightening.”

“I’m frightened beyond belief, Spencer.”

He sighed loudly. “I know, Soph. I can tell.”

“It’s a good thing I haven’t used my father’s stupid card yet.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I would have gotten short shorts and tank tops had I not known I needed to wear longer sleeves and pants.”

“Christ, Soph. This is scaring the shit out of me and I’m not even going. I’m panicked for you.”

He dragged me over to him and culled me into his body, spooning me and smoothing my hair behind my ear. It was the first time a guy had ever done anything like this with completely innocent intentions and I fought the tears burning to shed. He was so nice to me and I didn’t really know why. I mean, yeah, he did want to sleep with me. What guy didn’t, if I was being honest with myself, which was my own fault but Spencer wasn’t asking me to do anything. He was offering himself as comfort without any expectations in return.

I turned over and wrapped my arms around him. He hugged me fiercely in return. After a few minutes, I drew back and looked into his eyes.

“You’re a good man, aren’t you, Spencer?”

He laughed at me. “No, I’m not, Soph.”

“You’re a liar.”

“I’m not a good man.”

“Then you just aren’t aware of it, but you are.”

“Fine, fine. I’m a friggin’ saint, yada, yada. Can we get you your shit before all the stores close? I want this Africa shit done and over with so we can finish out the week in total debauchery.”

He made me laugh, but he wasn’t fooling me. Somehow, growing up in the house he did, with the father he had, Spencer had the unbelievable potential to become a very great man. He amazed me. I suppose the choices you make really are what define you.