You sat down comfortably, smoothing the napkin politely over your lap. Your boyfriend smiled at you from across the table, and was still laughing at something funny his friend had said. His friend and his girlfriend were going out to dinner, and they had been kind enough to invite you and your boyfriend along as well. You agreed eagerly, always enjoying the pleasant company of his friends.

Tantalizing dishes were placed carefully across the table, an array of smells and colors before your eyes. You scanned the plates, trying with discretion to decide which to taste first.

“You have to try this. It’s amazing,” his friend’s girlfriend said to you. She lifted a portion of the dish towards you with a serving spoon, lowering it to the white saucer with care. You stared at it for a moment, unsure whether to take a bite. It looked suspiciously as though it contained almonds, which you had been allergic to for years. You didn’t want to offend her with your hesitation, especially in front of the number of respected individuals you were eating with today.  As you lifted the bite to your mouth, warm steam blanketed your face, your mouth watering as you took a taste.

The moment it touched your tongue, you knew trouble was beginning to stir. Your smile remained polite and in control as you chewed slowly, swallowing with difficulty. She nodded at you happily.

“It’s good isn’t it?” You smiled.

“Excellent,” you said, with difficulty. Already the burning sensation had begun to crawl uncomfortably down the back of your throat. You stood, sliding the chair out from behind you with a disruptive scraping sound. “I’ll…be right back,” you said. “Bathroom.” They nodded to you, and you tried to dart away without further disrupting the meal.

Your boyfriend followed you with his eyes, concern stewing in his mind. The cloudiness in your expression insinuated more than a simple excuse to the restroom. He looked at your plate, barely touched. “That dish…” he thought. He leaned closer to the table, inspecting it closely. Almonds. He stood up quickly, knocking his knees against the tabletop. His silverware clattered loudly, and the other two looked up with confusion in their eyes.

“Sorry. I have to take this.” He held up his cell phone, darting off swiftly and not looking back to see the perplexed shrugs being motioned across the table.

You heard someone knock on the bathroom door, and you clenched the sides of the sink tightly. Had you remembered to lock it? Your mind refused to process thoughts in an organized manner, focusing instead on the harsh tingling still travelling down your throat.

“Babe? It’s me. Can I come in?” He tried the handle, the door opening with ease. “Hey,” he said, patting your head with his hand. “Are you alright?” You opened your mouth to respond, but fell with your knees to the cold linoleum instead. He held your hair from your face, politely turning his head as your stomach reversed as much of the food as it was able. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, grimacing in discomfort before pressing a finger to the silver to the toilet’s left. You sat backwards, resting your head in your open palms. He placed a hand on your back, rubbing in small circles.

“It burns,” you said softly, clenching your teeth in an effort to stifle the pain. Your boyfriend lifted your head, scanning your eyes with worry.

“Are you going to be okay? Should I call someone?” You shook your head.

“It’s alright. It just burns. Really bad.” He placed his hand under your jaw, pressing lightly at the skin.

“Are you sure? It feels swollen.” You sighed.

“A little bit.” He stared into your eyes again. Your chest rose and fell slowly. Nothing about your reaction seemed life-threatening, but he was uncomfortable with the labor with which you were breathing.

“I really think we should go to the clinic. It’s right down the block.” You sighed, too stressed to argue with his insistence.

“But what about dinner? I don’t want them to think I’m rude…” He rolled his eyes.

“I’ll send them a text message. It’s fine. Can you walk?” You grabbed his extended hand tightly, using him as leverage as you stood. His hand rested gently on your back as you walked out of the restaurant, shuffling faster as he noticed the hives dappling your shoulders.

“I really think we need to hurry.” You sighed with effort, following his lead as he began to drag you along. When you approached the clinic you both breathed a sigh of relief, and he commented softly about thankfully getting you there in one piece. Even in your discomfort you rolled your eyes, warranting a gentle laugh from him as you were escorted to see the doctor.

He sat patiently in the waiting room, wringing his hands with worry and looking up every minute. Your boyfriend stood, and thought about asking to go in with you. He returned to his chair, pinching a stray fiber of his shirt restlessly. You would be fine.

After what felt like ages, you finally stood in front of him. Your skin had a pale, sallow pallor, your eyes shadowed and dark. The doctor followed behind, placing a kind hand on your shoulder.

“Make sure she rests the next few days.” He turned to face you. “Use the prescription I gave you if you need it. And no more almonds,” he said, a compassionate laugh in his voice. You nodded, thanking him politely. Your boyfriend put his arm tentatively around your waist.

“I was so worried about you!” You smiled.

“I’m alright. I just need rest.” As you sat down in the taxi, he moved your head onto his shoulder.

“Rest. I can just carry you in when we get home.” You closed your eyes, the gentle fibers of his sweater offering a soft welcome to your cheek. Your boyfriend smiled, combing his fingers slowly through your hair. He began to hum, the sound blending pleasantly with the rush of passing cars and the inky enchantment of the night sky. The tingling in your throat seemed to fade gradually, as you curled your fingers, welcoming sleep as you would a friend.