I folded my arms. "Make it quick."
"Oh, sure, because you're so busy right now on your deathbed," he drawled. He bent over and picked up a thick plastic grocery bag. "Behold, my very official doctor bag. Thing."
I let my lids fall in irritation. "Did you have all this delivered on InstaDoctorCart or something?"
"Something like that. I love this city. They have everything." He pulled out a thermometer and held it up. "Ear, please."
I tucked my short, pink hair behind my ear for him. "I hope you're not planning on staying."
He stuck the thermometer in my ear, and when it beeped, he peeked at the reading before tapping the number into his phone. "As a matter of fact, I am."
"Excuse me?" I asked with sudden alarm. It brought on a coughing fit, and Spencer waited patiently for me to finish before handing me a water bottle of lukewarm water.
"Drink that and calm the hell down. Jesus."
"Spence—" I coughed out.
"Drink the water," he ordered more firmly. His eyes had an interesting way of going from syrupy sweet to hard garnet in two seconds flat. I really liked it, dammit. I obeyed, drinking some of the water while he pulled out a pulse oximeter and fitted it to my pointer finger. "Luckily, you're a healthy beast most of the time. This would have actually taken out a less healthy adult." He set the water back down on the floor while the oximeter did its thing.
"Thank you?" I asked scrunching my face. "Can we go back to the part where you're staying here?"
He glanced at the pulse oximeter. "That's a shitty reading. Breathe slowly, Arabella. Calmly. Get some oxygen in your blood."
I glowered. "You can't make me breathe."
He took my chin between his fingers, tilting my face up to his hard expression. "Watch me. Breathe."
My lungs expanded like the traitors they were. My body didn't belong to me—it belonged to Spencer. It had, for months. I couldn't look away; I couldn't fight his touch any more than I could fight this virus on my own. I was weak for him, and being near him only hammered that home. I'd been fighting it for months, but with him here, in my room, smelling like that citrus shampoo and wood smoke—fuck.I was done for. If he said breathe, I would inhale. If he said cry, I would weep. I gritted my teeth, furious with myself.
Spencer released me, glancing back down at the oximeter. "I'm giving you twenty-four hours before I put you on supplemental oxygen. You're right on the border." He tapped the reading into whatever app he was using on his phone. "We'll give the antibiotics and steroids a chance to reduce your inflammation."
"Oh, thank you," I replied with heavy sarcasm.
He glanced at me with consternation before pulling up his watch, starting a timer, and pressing his first two fingers to the inside of my wrist. "Quiet."
"Or what?" I grated out.
He glanced at me again, this time with a hint of amusement. "Or I'll give your lips something else to do." My teeth clacked shut. Mission accomplished. I was speechless. He didn't still find me attractive, did he? I'd completely ditched him—I'd used his body, left him alone in that bed, and ignored him for eleven months. There was no way he had any lingering attachment to me beyond being my brother's best friend.
When he finished counting my pulse, he wrote it down in his app. "Your heart rate is fast, but I'd expect that with your fever. And, you know," he gestured with both his hands like he was giving up, "never taking care of yourself."
"You're terribly judgy for a doctor."
"You're terribly impertinent for someone receiving free healthcare. Give me your arm." He ripped open a blood pressurecuff, and I begrudgingly offered my arm to him. He wrapped the cuff around my upper arm securely and then pressed two loud buttons to start it. "When did you first get symptoms? Sore throat, cough, fever?"
I rubbed my forehead while the blood pressure cuff strangled my arm. "I don't know… November?"
He slowly rotated a stare my way. "What do you mean, 'November?'"
"It's a month," I offered unhelpfully. "It comes before December."
"Are you fucking with me?" he asked through gritted teeth.
"What?" I asked defensively. "I thought it was allergies."
"How the fuck is this allergies?"
"I don't know," I shot back. "Why are you haranguing me?"
