Who I Am With You (Imagination #10) - Staci Stallings Page 0,188

his head would explode. It didn’t help that he needed to get his paper finished when he got home or the fact that he had now physics homework.

Twenty-five an hour had sounded great, but what was that in comparison to being dead by the end of the week? It was starting to be a good question.

Hanging around the house all the time was a sure-fire way to stir up more drama, so on Tuesday, after class, Taylor went instead to Alpha Chi. She wasn’t sure anyone there would be any more enthused to see her, but she was running out of places to disappear into.

Because she didn’t know any of the girls in the front room, she went to the study lounge and picked a desk in the back. She needed to get her stats done anyway, again. She was really starting to hate that class too. But she shoved that to the back of her mind. Thinking about it, letting herself feel anything was dangerous now. No. She just needed to focus and get it done. That was the new plan in her life from here on out.

“Taylor Grayson. I haven’t seen you here in forever,” LaChelle said when she came into the study lounge an hour later. Without question, she slid into the chair opposite to Taylor’s. “How’ve you been? I’ve seen you in theater a couple of times.”

“Oh, really?” Taylor drew her eyes up from the homework and slipped a piece of hair over her ear.

“Yeah. And I gotta say I’m a little jealous.”

“Of…?”

“The two of you of course. I mean, let’s face it, he is fine, and you really make such a cute couple.”

“Cou…?” Taylor wasn’t following at first. “Oh. Me and Greg? Oh, we’re not…”

“I can’t wait to see the two of you dance again at the Valentine’s thing next weekend. Everybody’s been talking about it.”

Just what it referred to, Taylor didn’t know.

“You are coming, right?” LaChelle said. “I mean, you have to come.”

“I… uh… I’m not sure. We’ll have to see.” But Taylor wondered even as she said it just who we referred to.

Greg was so tired by the time he left the hospital that he didn’t even remember making the trip home. Somehow, one minute he was leaving the hospital, the next he was coming in the door carrying his backpack with no appreciable understanding of just how that had happened.

Three steps in and he swung his backpack to the floor and collapsed onto the couch. With that and no more, he was out.

Hair up in a towel with her lounge clothes on after her shower, Taylor went to the kitchen and rummaged through the refrigerator before hearing something move in the living room. Startled, she went back to see what it was and found Greg sprawled on the couch, asleep. She puzzled at that. She hadn’t heard him come in, and he was still very much in his hospital T-shirt and jeans. He hadn’t even taken his shoes off.

As much as she wanted to say it was his life and he could do that if he wanted, she felt bad for him. Going over, she sat on the coffee table, careful not to trip on his outstretched leg.

“Greg?” she asked quietly, and she put her hand over on his shoulder. “Greg. Hey. Are you okay? Have you eaten?”

He just moaned.

“Did you just get here?”

He moaned again.

“Hey. Greg,” she said, and she shook him slightly. “Did you eat anything?”

“No,” he moaned although she couldn’t tell if it was an actual word.

“Did you just get here?” Worry was starting to overtake her.

“Yeah.”

“From work?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you hungry?”

Truly there was a part of Greg that was convinced this was all and only a dream. When he ratcheted his eyes open, he was even more convinced because his sight was blurry and that couldn’t be Taylor sitting there like that.

“Are you hungry?” she asked again.

He flopped his arm over his eyes. “I think I’m too tired to be hungry.”

“I can make you something if you want.”

With no other thought, he was asleep again.

“Greg,” she said, and he came partially awake. “You’ve got to eat something. Why don’t you go take a shower, and I’ll make you something?”

He didn’t even have the energy to argue, so he just nodded. Sleep battled with consciousness, and sleep won.

“Come on,” she said, tugging on him.

“Five more minutes, Mom,” he moaned.

“I’m not Mom.”

“Five more minutes…”

Taylor really did feel bad for him. He looked positively dead. “Greg.” She reached over and touched his shoulder.