Hope(less)

  * * * *

  The next time I woke, I checked my alarm clock. The red digits showed two in the afternoon. Turning my head on the pillow, I happily noted the absence of weakness and pain. Whatever I’d done to cause my sudden illness, over sixteen hours of sleep appeared to have helped.

  Gingerly, so as not to bring my symptoms back, I boosted myself into a sitting position. Clay no longer lay beside me. I glanced at my closed bedroom door. He must have gotten bored watching me sleep. I didn’t blame him.

  Although I could have slept longer, I pulled myself from bed. I grabbed my books then hopped back into my warm nest of blankets. Pillows stacked up behind me, I spread the work out. I’d lost a night and most of today because of the party. I couldn’t afford to lose more time. I still had a few assignments from Friday to finish. In addition, I needed to review the prior week’s materials to make sure I didn’t miss anything.

  After about fifteen minutes, I smelled bacon. My stomach growled loudly. The aroma tempted me to leave my warm bed. As I sat thinking about closing my book, the door opened fractionally, and Clay peered in. When he saw me sitting up, he nudged the door further to show a plate of food and a glass of juice. His appearance ended my internal debate and saved me from exposure to the cold.

  “Thank you. I’m starving.” I moved the book to the side, and he handed me the plate with a fork and set the orange juice on the dresser. I dug in right away, not realizing the extent of my hunger until the first bite touched my tongue. Eggs, bacon, potatoes, and toast vanished in minutes.

  Without a word, Clay handed me the glass of juice.

  I drank it slowly, starting to feel the pull of sleep. Resisting it would prove difficult. I patted the bed next to me.

  “Want to read by me?” Maybe company would help keep me awake.

  He flashed me a smile, collected the dishes, and left the room. I heard him move around in the kitchen. The sound of running water had me wrinkling my nose; I knew I’d need to risk the cool air once again for a quick visit to the bathroom.

  When I dashed back into my room eager for the warm bed, I saw Clay already lounging on the covers. He was reading a book.

  We spent the rest of the day together in my room. Clay read next to me while I paged through notes and completed assignments. Each of the few times he left my side, he returned with a drink for me.

  Near dinner, Clay closed his book with a snap and left the room. I heard Rachel’s car pull into the driveway a few moments later. Before I heard her car door close, he returned wearing his fur again. Somewhere in the house, Rachel would see a pile of clothes.

  I grinned at him as he jumped up on the end of the bed. He settled with a sigh, and I stretched out to tuck my feet under his warm body.