When Eliza woke me up that morning for breakfast by drumming his fists on the door in beat to a Ghost Orchid song, my first thought had been: I feel like hell. My body hurt, I had a raging fever and I just felt like overall crap. Eli took me to the doctor, where I was told there was a virus going around that I could have caught from anyone. I ended up staying in my room with my brother for the majority of the day until he caught a cab to the venue in the evening.

“I don’t think you should be in here. I don’t want to get you sick,” I warned.

He rolled his eyes, not moving his palms off my face. “I don’t get sick. I’ll be fine. Are you still feeling like shit?" he asked me softly.

I nodded, staring straight into his bright eyes. "Yeah."

He leaned forward and examined my face. "I've been worried about you all day. Mason didn't tell us you were sick until we were halfway to the venue. I just thought you and Eli went to go do something on your own."

"You missed out on a doctor's visit and the strangest-tasting soup I've ever eaten," I smiled at little at him.

Sacha gave me that lopsided grin I liked. "Party animal." His hands brushed down my neck to rest on my shoulders. "Want me to go get you something?"

I shook my head and gestured toward the bags on the nightstand. "Rosemary’s Baby brought me a sandwich and juice when you guys got here, but thank you."

I don't know why every time I thanked him, he smiled. Always. He reached behind him for a second, his elbow wobbled in the air, before handing me a book. "The lady at the bookstore said that since you’re a history nerd, you’d probably enjoy it,” he said, setting the paperback into my outstretched hand.

Memoirs of a Geisha was the title.

I threw my arms around him and hugged him weaker than I normally would have, slightly smirking at him calling me a history nerd. I did like my historical fiction, especially since I hadn’t had time to read much while I was in school. "Thank you."

Sacha wrapped his arms around the middle of my back and squeezed me to him tightly enough to make up for my lacking strength. "You're welcome."

“You’re the nicest man I’ve ever met. I don’t care what anyone says about you.”

He chuckled lightly, rubbing my back. We pulled apart after a minute, and then he was taking off his shoes and lying on the side of the bed I hadn't contaminated yet. "So you have a virus, huh?" he asked, flopping his long arms open across the mattress.

"A big, stinking virus," I told him, sticking out my tongue. "I should be better the day after tomorrow supposedly."

He made a face while I put my present on top of my backpack. "That sucks," he replied, watching me. A slow smile crept across his cheeks. "Poor little sick baby."

Snorting pathetically, I took a sip out of the bottle of water I had on the nightstand before flopping on the bed next to him. I sprawled out on the queen-sized mattress, which didn’t say much because I wasn’t exactly a supermodel-like height. "Suck it."

"Suck what?" he laughed.

"My invisible nuts," I snickered, turning my head just a little to face him.

He was sitting up on the bed while I was laying down flat. "I forget about those things." The hand closest to me reached over to grasp my forearm. "I see this girl who's usually pretty fucking gorgeous and the last thing I expect is for her to have a pair under her clothes," he chuckled.

I soaked up his compliment for all of a split second. "Wait a second. What you mean by ‘usually?’"

"You're sick," he explained with amusement tinting his voice, ignoring my question about the nickname.