I glanced at the clock next to the bed. I’d missed the second session, but if I left now, I could listen to the lunch lecture.
But Corban might be hungry when he woke up. If he wanted some of the soup I’d bought, it would be easier for him if I was here to heat it up.
It wouldn’t hurt if I stayed. There was an extra pillow right here. This way I’d be close if Corban got worse.
I glanced at the door, wondering what I was doing. This didn’t make sense, and I knew it. Why would I stay? It wasn’t strictly necessary, and given the nature of our relationship, it was probably out of place. But even though I couldn’t explain why, I didn’t want him to be alone. I felt compelled to stay.
Leaving my glasses on the bedside table, I settled in next to him. After a moment, I glanced around the room—not that anyone was around to see—and scooted closer.
Closer.
A little bit closer.
Until I was right up against his back and could feel him breathing.
Just a precaution in case his condition turned significantly worse, of course. Not because my body craved closeness with his.
He was still feverish but sleeping peacefully. I’d just stay for a little while. With my body tucked against him, I relaxed and waited while Corban slept.
21
Corban
“Mathematics is not about numbers, equations, computations, or algorithms: it is about understanding.” ~ William Paul Thurston
The first time I woke up, Hazel was there. I didn’t know what time it was, but daylight peeked through a small gap in the curtains. She was curled up next to me, her hands tucked beneath the pillow, her eyes closed. My head was too fuzzy and my body hurt too much to contemplate what it meant. All I knew was that I was glad she was here.
I relaxed and went back to sleep.
The second time I woke up, she was sitting in bed next to me, reading by the light of a lamp. I was dimly aware of her touching my face and smoothing back my hair. She gave me a few sips of water and offered me soup. But I wasn’t ready for food.
But unlike the previous night, when whatever shitty virus I’d caught had kept me up, tossing and turning, my body was calm. Relaxed. I drank some more water and went back to sleep.
It helped knowing she was there.
The third time my eyes opened, I could tell my fever had broken. I didn’t feel good, exactly, but the haze in my brain had lifted and I was no longer hot and clammy. Light once again peeked through a crack in the curtains. It was probably morning.
I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, then rubbed my hands up and down my face. I was weak and sore, but it seemed like the worst was over. What a crappy time to get sick. Not that there was ever a good time, but alone in a hotel thousands of miles from home was particularly bad.
Except, I hadn’t been alone. Hazel must have been here all day yesterday. She’d missed the first day of the conference to take care of me.
That realization made my chest feel tight. Not only had she come looking for me, she’d stayed.
I put on my glasses and checked my phone. I had a text from her, asking me to let her know when I woke up. I replied that I was up and feeling better. Less than a minute later, there was a knock at my door.
“Morning,” I said when I opened the door.
Hazel’s short-sleeved shirt was white with dark blue dots and pearly white buttons. My mouth twitched in a hint of a smile, thinking about the buttons flying off her shirt the other day. I’d probably ruined that one, but I had no regrets.
“You seem to be recovering quickly.” She stepped in and put the back of her hand to my forehead, then touched my neck. “Body temperature appears to be normal. How are you feeling?”
“Better.” I let the door shut and she followed me inside. “Still kind of run down, but I also haven’t eaten since the flight.”
“Would you like me to heat up some soup?”
“You don’t have to do that. You’ll miss more of the conference.”
She raised her eyebrows. I knew that look. Determination, or maybe stubbornness. But it meant she wasn’t going to back down.
“It’s fine. I can stay.”
I lowered myself onto the edge of