"I'm back," I said softly, watching the muscles in his back tense up.

"Shit, Kat. I didn't hear you come in," he said, flipping over to rest his back against the headboard. His light brown hair was all wet again, the telltale sign that he'd taken another shower, and his abs looked just as nice as they had before.

"I bought you some Theraflu," I told him, peeling off the plastic that covered the top before pouring some of the thick, red liquid into the tiny measuring cup. "Drink it."

Tristan made a face at my outstretched offering before plucking it from my fingers. "I hate this crap." He kept the disgusted face, as he tipped the cup back and gulped down the contents. Tristan shivered once he was done and stuck his tongue out. "That's gross."

"You're fine," I snorted and took the measuring cup away from him. "I'm going to go put up the stuff I bought for you. You don't mind if I put it away, do you?"

He shook his head and even waved his hand a little. "Do whatever you want downstairs. Mi casa es tu casa," he said in a perfect accent.

"I'll be back then," I told him before walking out. I took my time to look around the second floor of his house on the way downstairs. There were three other doors on the other side of the hall. A simple, metal chandelier illuminated enough to see that he only had a few things hung on the walls. I decided to maybe snoop later on when Tristan was asleep... if I was there long enough.

I jogged down the stairs, grabbed my two bags of groceries, and took inventory of the bare walls of the staircase. There was an opening on the right side of the room, and I peeped in to see that it was a formal dining room. I turned the opposite direction, spotting a living room that opened up to his kitchen. After flicking on the nearest light switch, I made my way into the kitchen, which was all stainless steel appliances, sparkly, black granite countertops, and mahogany cabinets. It was my dream kitchen come true.

Finding things in the spacious kitchen took some time because even though it looked like Tristan was neat, he didn't have anything organized intelligently. I finally put a pot of water to boil, so I could make him some echinacea tea like the kind my mom used to make me when I was sick. She claimed it helped make me get better faster. Years later, I learned that it was known to help boost a person's immune system.

I headed back upstairs with a bottle of orange Gatorade under one armpit, his tea in one hand, and a packet of saltine crackers in the other hand. When I walked in, Tristan was resting with his eyes closed but opened them as soon as he heard my footsteps. I moved his stereo over on his nightstand to set the crackers and Gatorade.

"Drink this," I told him, handing him the cup.

He winced as he tried to sit up. He peered inside the cup but frowned at the discomfort in his body. Flu muscles pains were the worst. "What is it?"

"Tea," I pushed the cup closer to him. "Don't be a pussy, just drink it."

"I should be offended that you call me a pussy, but I'm not," he said softly with a tired smile on his face. He looked at the cup again before taking it from me, sniffing it, and then gagged.

"You're the worst, you know that?" I laughed at his bullshit. "Just drink it. It's good for your immune system."

Tristan made another face before sipping the hot liquid. "I'm really not picky, but this tastes like ass."

I raised my eyebrow at him. "You know what ass tastes like?"

Even though he was tired and sickly, he snickered in amusement. "No, I haven't had the pleasure of tasting ass, thank you. What I should've said is that it takes like shit," he murmured, before thinking about what he'd said and snorted. "Don't even say anything. It tastes horrible and I've definitely never tasted shit," he said, taking another drink and keeping an eye on me. "Can you stay for a little bit?"