Fix It for Us (9 page)

I’m completely exhausted, but manage to roughly whisper, “Dragon.”

The clinic nurse practitioner comes in and examines me.  She allows Davis to stay, because I am having a hard time focusing and answering her questions. 

“How long ago did this start, Elizabeth?
The fatigue, achiness, fever, chills.” she asks gently.

Davis begins to answer for me, “This morning she was really tired, but didn’t say anything about feeling bad.”

I interject, “Last night.”

Davis directs his attention off of the nurse and onto me, concern and questioning in his voice, “You felt bad last night?  Why didn’t you say something?  Why did you agree to go out
and…” I know he is wondering why I continued with my birthday present for him if I wasn’t feeling well.

“I didn’t know I was sick
.  I didn’t have a fever or a headache. I just thought I was tired, dizzy and sore from overdoing it. ” My last words bring a small half smile and gleam to Davis’ eyes.  He begins shaking his head back and forth.

The nurse tells m
e my fever was very high when I came in.  103 degrees.  And it might have been higher.  She gives me medicine to bring down the fever, takes off the blankets and puts some ice packs on me.  Davis asks her if the fever could have caused me to see things – delusions.  She confirms that yes, it could.  Standing next to the exam table, stroking my hair, holding my hand and rubbing my knuckles with his thumb, I begin to relax and calm.  I’ve stopped crying and can focus on his face a bit more.

“Lizard … don’t worry
, they were never there.  It was just the fever causing you to imagine them there.  Randall and Neil are nowhere near you.  It’s okay.”

I nod my head up and down and release a large, cleansing sigh.

The nurse tells us that I have the flu.  She scolds me mildly for not getting my flu shot in the fall.  If I recall, I was a little preoccupied with the whole Jake/Davis thing at the time.  She questions Davis and he informs her that yes, he got his.  I’m relieved he, hopefully, won’t catch this.  Since it has been less than 24 hours since the symptoms started the nurse prescribes an anti-viral medicine that she says should shorten the length of the symptoms.  She also encourages me to stay in bed for a couple of days, take ibuprofen for the fever and headache, and drink plenty of fluids.  I understand from her that I could develop more upper respiratory symptoms.

Davis turns to the nurse and pronounces,
“That’s not a problem, because I am taking her home and taking care of her.”

The nurse smiles widely at Davis and seems pleased with his answer.  She looks at me and lifts her brow, “Lucky girl.”  So, Davis’ charm seems to work on all women – no matter what age.  I just smile and shake my head in agreement.  I
am
a lucky girl.  A lucky girl that feels like a bag of dirty laundry right now.

I protest in part, “Davis, I’m on-call tomorrow and I have class and lines and rehearsal starts soon.  I can’t go hang out at your condo.  I’ll be fine in my room.  It’s fine.  It’s no big deal.”

Leaning down so the nurse can’t see or hear, Davis locks onto me with his emerald eyes. “Baby…” he huffs in frustration.  “If you say another damn word about doing this on your own… I’m gonna… I don’t know what I’m gonna do.  Just let me take care of you.  And another thing…” He almost growls.  “No more of your squirrel chatter while you’re sick.  You know what it does to me.”

I find that hard to believe.  “
Really?  While I look this good?” I ask with snark.  I know I look a hot mess.

He does growl.  “It’s not about how you look.”   Then he turns to the nurse and in a completely different, civil, smooth, calm tone inquires, “Can I take her home now, please?”

The nurse nods yes, smiles at both of us and hands him some papers.  Exiting she laughs at bit and says, “Take care” over her shoulder. 

***

Davis drives me back to his condo and puts me in bed.  He puts a glass of water on the night stand, kisses me on the forehead, draws the drapes, turns out the light, shuts the door and leaves.  We barely talked on the ride to his place.  I settle into the cool, crisp sheets and think for a moment.  Why were Randall and Neil in my hallucination?  I don’t think of them too often anymore.  I actively work to put it out of my mind and roll over in the dark to let some restful sleep overtake me.

***

Moments later, I roll over onto my back and open my eyes.  There is soft light around me.  Staring up at the ceiling, I realize I am not in my dorm room, but Davis’ bedroom in this condo.  The events of the day trickle back into my data banks.  I’m sick and Davis… turning my head to the left I see two wet green eyes looking down at me from behind the glow of a laptop. 

“Hey.” I
s all Davis says.  He reaches over and strokes my hair.  My greasy, clammy disgusting fever hair.  I attempt to pull away, but he stops me, cradling the side of my head and shaking his head no. 

I’m a b
it confused.  I swear I just fell asleep, but the room is dark except for Davis’ computer.  He is naked from the waist up and wearing his pajama bottoms.  “Uh, What time is it?”  I ask, schooching up slowly in the bed, til I’m semi-upright.

“10 o’clock”

“Whoa, how long have I been asleep?”

“Almost five hours.”

“Really?  How long have you been babysitting me?”  I ask with a little smile and a raised eyebrow.

“A while” Davis answers smiling slightly right back.  He continues to stroke my hair and look deeply into my eyes “How are you feeling?”

I mentally
assess myself before I answer. “Better I think.  Still tired.  Sort of wrung out.  I’m not so hot anymore.”

Davis’ facial e
xpression changes from concerned to amused.  His closed lip smile travels all the way up to his eyes and they crinkle up.  He lets out a brief chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” I accuse.

“You.  Do you remember what you said in the clinic? ‘Hot, but not in a good way.’  That’s when I knew you were okay.  Once you made a joke.”  His eyes become moist and he looks away from me and up at the ceiling.  “Before that I was worried.  Really worried, baby. You were out of it.  And you wouldn’t answer your landline or your cell.  That damn cell.  You left it at the condo again.  I couldn’t reach you.  Jules couldn’t … ”  He is breaking my heart.

Attempting to lighten the mood, I hoarsely tell him,
“Right now, I am not hot in any way.  I feel gross and dirty.  I think I am going to take a shower.”  I stroke his hand and move it away from my hair, move weakly to get out of the bed, and almost instantly everything starts spinning and I have to recline again.  Davis pushes his laptop down to the end of the bed, gets up and is around to my side of the bed at light speed.

Wordlessly taking
both my hands and helping me sit upright, then wrapping an arm around my waist, he assists me in walking to the en-suite bathroom.  “Maybe you should take a bath instead? Safer?”

I know a bath would be easier, but I don’t want to wait for the tub to fill.  I just want to get clean.  Davis understands when I lay out all the reasons for a shower – faster, cleaner, need to stand up a bit – and agrees only if he is allowed to accompany me.  When I give him a
questioning look like, “Really? You want to get naked now,” he assures me, with a knowing smirk, it’s for safety reasons.  No fooling around.  I don’t think I could fool around if I tried.  It’s hard enough standing up.

Davis strips me down and sits me on the closed toilet seat, demanding that I hold onto the counter nearby.  Then he proceeds to undress himself.  Even in my current state of exhaustion, his body does not escape my appreciat
ion.  He is beautiful.  I start at his gorgeous, beautiful face.  I always start there.  My gaze moves to his wide muscular shoulders and then to his side.  As he twists and bends slightly to remove his pants my eyes stroke over his lats and abdominals.  I wish it was my hands, but they are busy gripping the counter, keeping me upright so I can stare.  I stare at the deep V down to his pelvis, his long, lean legs, hell, even his feet.  Then I jump my eyes back up to peruse his firm rounded ass and his …

Davis brin
gs me back from my visual reverie when he turns to me full and says, “You like the view?”

I sigh, “Very much.”  And then, I don’t know where it comes from, I start crying.  Big, fat tears.  Naked and blubbering sitting on the toilet seat. 

Davis is quickly crouched in front of me.  “Hey.  Hey…” he says gently.  “It’s okay, it’s going to be fine.”

I sob to him that I’m sorry I got sick.  To which he shakes his head as if mystified by my words.  I sob that I am
scared to not be at the dorms.  That I’m shirking my RA duties.  I sob that rehearsal starts soon and I’m not ready.  I sob … “You take care of me, Davis.  TVs and my health and watching out for me.  And I do nothing for you.  It’s so one-sided.” 

“Do you have a fever again?” he says
feeling my forehead, “because you are absolutely talking nonsense.  You do everything for me.  Nothing was any good before I met you.  I was just
acting
happy.  Playing a part.  I was a good actor, wasn’t I?  Now, I
am
happy.  And as far as taking care of you?”  He becomes serious.  “I wasn’t paying attention to Cole when he needed me, Lizard.  You understand?  I let him get sick.  I let him go away.” Now he is crying as much as I am.  We are a pretty mess, naked, holding each other in the bathroom.

Our shower together is silent and almost reverent.  He never l
ets go of me, keeping me steady and vertical.  He washes me – every bit of me.  Davis holds me around the waist, his front to my back, and shampoos my hair with one strong hand.  Scrubbing out all the dirtiness, scrubbing in relief. He is so careful.  Rinses me.  Wraps me in a big fluffy towel.  Dries my hair.  Puts me in one of his t-shirts and some boxers.  Settles me on the couch.  Brings me soup.  He reassures me that I’ll be ready for rehearsal
and
that he called Little Jan, the residence director, to explain my absence.  Davis teases me that getting sick is “not the best way to get alone time with him.”  He makes me smile and laugh.  I feel so much better.  He needs to make sure I stay.  I’m not going anywhere.

Chapter 3-
MARCH

             
Thanks to the medicine and Davis’ care, the flu was short-lived.  Rehearsal for Once Upon A Mattress started the end of that week and has been going on for over a month now.  It is consuming my life and I am having a great time.   Owen Fox, the director, is, simply put, a genius.  The concept is medieval times, but with clever anachronisms – Fred in full period dress, but wearing pink high top Converse, the Queen carrying a little dog in a Louis Vuitton bag – things like that.  The show will be going along and then a character will come on stage with something very “off” for the period.  The anachronisms make the show unpredictable and are just a little bit of fun for the audience.  Owen also has the ability to make me feel like I am doing a phenomenal job at my part, even at the beginning when I was just exploring.  He is so encouraging.  I feel very confident about my performance and the production as a whole.

             
When I’m not at rehearsal, which goes every night until about 11 pm, or in class, I am in my dorm room, asleep or on-call.  Davis is equally busy, going to class and teaching during the day and then working on lights for the show at night.  We haven’t been back to the condo together since I got over the flu.  He has somehow managed to go home, get what he needs and be in my room every night in time to crash.  As much as we are crazy about each other, this schedule is making for little time for intimacy. 

The strain is becoming obvious.  We are getting a little snappy with each other.  And that, not the play or my classes, is making
me anxious.  It’s my pattern – when things are going well and I feel confident, things go sideways. 

I have put off thinking about what happens next.  After I graduate.  The summer.  Getting a job.  Oh, it is lingering in the recesses of my mind, but I’m purposefully ignoring the thoughts.  Davis and I have agreed we are getting married, but still have yet to reveal it to anyone.  We haven’t even discussed it much mor
e.  I think since I put the smack-down on discussing it, he is not touching the subject. 

It’
s the night before technical rehearsals start.  Once we are into those, the nights (and days) will get even longer, sometimes with rehearsal going on for 10 hours.   Now, before techs, before the end of the year is upon us, before our parents arrive to see the show (and everyone meets each other for the first time,)  might be the time to start the conversation.  So I do.

             
Davis and I are lying in my little loft dorm bed.  He is facing the wall and I am snuggled up against his firm, warm back.  I kiss across one of his shoulders up to his ear.  Then I softly speak into his ear, “Mavis, what happens next?”

             
Davis turns his head slightly to have more contact with my still kissing lips.  “What do you mean next?”  he asks.

             
I launch into full prattle.  “Well, we have technicals for Mattress, and then your parents and my parents are coming for opening, and then there is graduation and then … what’s next?  I’m just trying to think ahead a little.  I have been stuck in the here and now.  And don’t get me wrong, the here and now is great.  It’s where I need to be right now, but I guess… I guess I was just starting to think about, you know, us and the future and…”  Davis has flipped over to look at me.  We are face to face, heads on the pillow.  He is smiling a big smile, and it’s growing wider the more I chatter on.  He isn’t even trying to stop me or answer my questions.

             
When I finally stop and take a breath, he says, “First, I am so glad to hear you doing that crazy talking-too-much thing again.  I haven’t heard it in a while and I was beginning to wonder where it had gone.  Secondly, I am now completely horny and you are going to have to help me out with that.”  I eagerly nod in agreement and push my head forward to give him little kisses along the side of his mouth and then lock in fully on his lips.  He wastes no time pulling me right against him and I can feel exactly the affect my chatter has had on him.  I hum.  “But,” he continues, holding me back slightly to look in his eyes, but still keeping his hardness close, “I think we need to talk about this ‘NEXT’ you were wondering about.”  I frown.  “Oh, don’t you worry little Lizard, we are going to get to this.”  He points his finger back and forth in a circle between our bodies.  “There hasn’t been nearly enough of this, lately.  But as for NEXT?  Next, after all the things you said and graduation…next, we tell everyone that we are engaged, then you move into my condo and out of this dorm forever.  And then, then I don’t know, Lizard Baby.  We’ll figure it out together.”

             
I smile.  He had a plan all along, he was just trying to respect my wishes.  “So I’m moving in with you?”

             
“Yes.”

             
“Okay … but I am not telling my parents until after graduation, okay?”

             
“Okay” he answers.  I’m starting to lose him in this conversation.  His hand is rubbing my arm and moves up to pull one side of my tank top over my shoulder. 

             
“Are you going to tell your parents?”

             
“Sure, when we tell yours that we are moving in and getting married.  Lizard, I’m 25 years old.  I don’t have to ask permission.”  He is finished with the talk and has moved on to removing my top completely.  My breasts are receiving the bulk of this attention.

             
I feel the need to sum up the conversation, even as he has abandoned it, “Okay, so… after graduation we’ll tell them, our parents, that we are getting married.  And then we can tell everyone…”  I don’t get to finish my verbal assessment of the situation.  Davis’ mouth is on mine, his hands in my hair.  He parts my lips with determination and covers my tongue with slow, luxurious strokes which I can do nothing but return.  Well, I guess that’s settled.  With a sigh, I give into the sensations.  Davis flips me on my back and while purposefully kissing his way down my body he groans out, “Good, I finally got you to stop.  Now, let me show you what’s NEXT.”  He doesn’t stop until he’s kissed me all the way down to my inner knees.  With his fingers he lightly trails them back up my thighs, until his thumbs, his magic thumbs, find and work my clit into a frenzy.  As he enthralls me, his eyes are locked with mine, he rotates and presses, rubs and rotates.  He has me whimpering and then plunges his flattened tongue onto my excitement, pushing with delicious pressure.  I audibly suck in air through my closed teeth to try and absorb the overwhelming sensation.  This is followed by light, tensing flicks of his tongue that become too much to contain and I cry out, “Oh, Oh yes.”  I don’t have a moment to speak before he has climbed up my body and he is planted inside me.  He just holds it there as my insides clamp around him.  He hardens further, feeling the end of my orgasm and with slow rhythmic rocking, pulls out of me and then, with force, back in.  It has been too long and we are making up for it.  His lips on my neck, his full body weight flattening me, I shudder slightly as release arrives again and brings on loud groans and a long, low growl from Davis as he finishes right after me.

             
Davis pants in my ear, “And that, a lot more of that, is NEXT!”

             
I giggle.  Glad to have
that
settled.