Zane was crashing at my place over break, tutoring me while he was at it. He lived life like a rough draft—book smart, life stupid—and right now he was sprawled across my bed with no intention of moving.
"Zo, those instant noodles you made me for lunch? I think they were expired. I feel kinda weird."
I was on the last question of my homework and had no patience for him. "You've eaten expired stuff before. Relax. You'll live."
He managed two whole minutes of quiet before the whining started again. "Zo, I don't feel good."
I got up, furious, and grabbed him by the collar. "You'd better actually be sick."
I pressed a hand to his forehead. Yeah—warm. Fever warm. Mom said the flu had been tearing through the hospital all week; Zane had probably caught it.
I dug out the thermometer, wiped it down with an alcohol swab, and handed it over. "Under your tongue. No talking."
He opened up without complaint, then shivered the second the thermometer touched his tongue. "Brrr—it's cold!"
Sick Zane had this soft, hoarse voice. It gave me full-body goosebumps.
Five minutes later—
"Zane. You're at a hundred and two."
He blinked up at me, voice already shot. "What, so the noodles were poisoned?"
I couldn't be bothered. I rummaged through the medicine cabinet for fever reducers and a Vitamin C chewable. "Up. Meds. Now."
He lay there playing dead, eyes shut, while his long lashes trembled like crazy. This man had refused to swallow a pill his entire life. Shots? Fine. Pills? Absolutely not.
I swallowed my annoyance and coaxed him. "Zane, come on, it doesn't even taste bad."
He opened his eyes and stared at me, unblinking. His face said, in large clear letters: LIAR.
My patience has limits. I raised a fist. "Take it. Don't make me count to three."
Zane sat up against the headboard and, with my hand cupped under his chin, swallowed the pill like a man facing a firing squad. His fever-hot lips brushed my palm; I flinched and jerked my hand back—and he caught my wrist.
The next second he was clutching his throat, face flushing red. "Zo, what did you just give me? It tastes weird."
I was too stunned to speak. That giant horse-pill of a Vitamin C chewable—and he'd swallowed it. Whole.
Somewhere between laughing at him and throttling him, I deadpanned: "Viagra."
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