ii.
Meant to Beii.
“How are you doing? Do you feel a little better?” Tiffany asks worriedly as she lays a hand on Jessica’s forehead, and then flinches and frowns.
“Am I that hot?” Jessica asks, feeling the same area. It does feel rather warm to her, but her extremities have been feeling freezing so she really can’t trust her own judgment.
“You’re always hot,” Tiffany says, and Jessica snorts, but the corners of pull up.
“Nice one. Did you get this from the How to Pick Up a Girl Handbook?”
“Is that a real thing?”
“If it were, would you want to look at it?”
“I’d think that I can pick up a girl without a book’s help,” Tiffany says with a crooked smile. “Also, it seems that you’re feeling better if you’re up for bantering.”
“I’m always up for bantering.” Jessica holds out her hand and, without prompting, Tiffany takes it. Her hand feels warm in Jessica’s, but Jessica can’t tell if that has anything to do with her flu. Tiffany should be warm, vibrant, incandescent, from the inside to the outside.
“What is it?” Tiffany asks. “Do you need something?”
“Yes,” Jessica says impulsively. “A kiss.”
Tiffany is leaning in before she can say that she was just kidding, that Tiffany shouldn’t kiss her because she’s sick and still in that contagious danger zone.
“There,” Tiffany says, lifting away from Jessica’s forehead. She clucks her tongue. “You’re still too warm,” she says, and Jessica thinks that even if she were perfectly healthy she would have felt that way from Tiffany’s kiss. “Now, stay still while I go get you some chicken soup.”
“Did you make it? Because I don’t need food poisoning on top of a flu.”
Tiffany scowls. “Hey, you could be a little more grateful towards someone who’s taking care of you.”
“I’m very grateful.” Jessica flashes a smile. “Have my sincerest gratitude, milady. I’ll repay you when I can feel my legs again.”
Tiffany rolls her eyes. “Okay, okay, and don’t worry, I bought the soup. But if you aren’t a good patient, I’ll put some cucumbers in it.”
Jessica purposefully pouts. “Aren’t I always good?”
“I don’t think you want the answer to that question,” Tiffany says dryly, but she soothes the remark with another kiss to Jessica’s forehead. “Be good. I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be here,” Jessica says, like she can even get out of bed anyway. Tiffany gives her a soft smile, and then a stern finger, like she’s saying behave, and then she’s out the door to get Jessica her soup.
Jessica watches her go and then closes her eyes and smiles, bringing a hand to her forehead, not to check her temperature but to feel the last remnant of Tiffany’s kiss, its own brand of medicine.
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