He glared at me before he finally replied after staying silent for quite some time. “I do have one, but what are you gonna do with it?”
Seriously, was that a question?
I chuckled. “To check your body temperature, of course.”
He sighed, seemingly defeated. “Check that box over there.”
A smile curved up my lips. I stood and walked over to the box he pointed at. I took out the thermometer and checked his temperature.
Holy shit! 39 degrees Celsius…
And he didn’t bother taking any acetaminophen. What kind of a doctor is he?
“Mr. Clinton, I don’t like you disregarding your health…” A frown etched my face as I showed him the result on the thermometer.
“39, Mr. Clinton, and you want me to leave you… alone?”
He stared blankly at me, unable to respond. He then shut his eyes and clutched his temples with his fingers.
I dropped the thermometer and shot out of the bed, walking to his bathroom.
“Where are you going?” He asked as he sat up on his bed. I glanced at him before replying.
“Just relax, Mr. Clinton. I’ll be back before you know it.”
I closed the door behind me and turned on the tap, letting the water flow into the sink. I then facepalmed myself. “I forgot to take a cloth.”
I walked out of the bedroom and opened the door to his closet. In a few seconds, I knew he would be asking questions…
“Sarah, what are you doing in my closet?”
Yep, just as I thought.
I took out one of his white T-shirts and shot him a glance before returning to the bathroom. After soaking his T-shirt in water, I came back to him and sat down beside him.
“Is this really necessary?” His mouth was slightly agape, staring at me in disbelief.
“If a doctor can’t take care of himself, let a nurse do it.” A smirk played on my lips as I lifted the damp T-shirt ready to press it on his forehead, but he stopped me halfway. His hand tightly held my wrist, his eyes steady on me with a hard stare, but I could still see tenderness flickering in his eyes.
“I’m not delicate, Sarah.”
I was so tempted to laugh at him but refrained. The expression on his face was damn serious. And his voice… it was stern yet soft in a way betraying his annoyance.
How is it wrong to care for a man? What’s up with him?
“I never said you are delicate, Mr. Clinton.” I mimicked his serious expression, but a smirk still curled up my lips as my eyes traveled all over his rosy lips.
Fuck! Something unpleasant might happen if he doesn’t let go of my wrist.
I bit my lips as my eyes trailed down to his neck. I watched as his Adam’s apple danced up and down. My heart began hammering in my chest, beating a staccato beat, clouding my senses, pulsating me to leap forward and press my lips against his. But I just couldn’t yield to what my body wants.
How would he feel if I kissed him right here, right now?
His eyes were fixed on me. I don’t know what he was thinking at that moment, but he had no idea how his actions were affecting me.
I had to do something to make this stop, or I might ruin our friendship this instant.
It would be good for me, though, but not now.
“Mr. Clinton, let me bring down your body temperature so I can attend lectures today, okay?” I said more like a plea while I forced my body to stay calm.
He didn’t respond.
“Mr. Clinton, you’re hurting my wrist; let go, please.” I wiggled my hand, trying to dislodge from his tight grip, but it was a formidable, impossible task.
Hell no, he refused to budge.
He seemed to still be lost in thought, but when he noticed my struggle, he set me free.
Finally.
“I’ll do it myself, thank you.” He snatched the cloth from me and dabbed it on his face.
Woah, he was so hot that he was practically steaming like a freshly brewed cup of coffee! I was sure that with the amount of steam coming out of him, it would be enough to calm his temperature down to the normal range.
“Do you have acetaminophen?” My gaze drifted to the box.
“Inside the box.” He gestured towards the direction of the box I collected the thermometer from earlier. I gave him the drugs, still sitting beside him.
He sighed and looked at me helplessly. “Sarah, I appreciate what you’re doing right now, trying to be a good nurse and all, but you’re making me feel uncomfortable right now.”
I pressed my lips awkwardly, unable to respond to that. I felt hurt; he obviously doesn’t even want me to touch him. How could I actually tell him about my true feelings?
I thought he liked me being around him, but I guess he sees me as a pest, like my father sometimes calls me.
“I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I was just trying to help you.” My voice cracked, avoiding his gaze, that’s if he was even looking at me.
Did I do wrong? Was it wrong to care for someone I love?
“I’ll leave you to your peace and quiet space. Sorry for disrupting it…” I sadly stood up to leave.
“No, wait. I didn’t mean… no. No.” He sighed, helplessly, and stopped me from leaving by holding my wrist AGAIN!
This man!
“Don’t take what I said in the wrong way. I’m used to being alone, and I’m still trying to cope with your presence in this house. I just…”
“I get it. You’re trying to say you’re used to loneliness, and you want to be alone in your lonely world.” I cut him off. I didn’t think it through before saying that.
I cringed in embarrassment. “Sorry I blurted that out.”
He turned speechless, but I knew he couldn’t deny that was the truth. That was the one thing I observed about him since I moved into his duplex.
I feel he has a secret, perhaps a memory or hurt that he isn’t ready to share. Whatever it was, it was telling on him.
“I care about you, Mr. Clinton. Now take that drug and get some rest while I go prepare breakfast.” I flashed a warm smile and left his room to prepare breakfast.