“I know!” I say louder. “Shut up already!”
Matt looks at me, surprised, and we both can’t help but laugh a little. Then we grow quiet, staring at each other.
“Anyway, thank you,” I say.
“No problem,” Matt says. “But you should really be thanking me for washing barf out of your hair.”
My eyes widen before I pull the covers over my head and hide. I hear Matt laugh before he pokes me in the arm.
“I’m ordering food. What sounds good?”
“A cheeseburger,” I say quickly.
From my cocoon, I hear Matt call and order two cheeseburgers with fries and sodas.
“You ordered me regular instead of diet,” I say after he hangs up.
“So?” he asks. “I know that’s what you drink.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“That’s what you ordered at the movie.”
My stomach twists into a knot at the simple fact that Matt is paying attention. He yanks the covers off my face.
“You should probably shower,” he says. “It’ll make you feel better.”
His face is only inches from mine when he says it, which makes my stomach twist even tighter. We hold each other’s gaze for a moment, then a cleaning person knocks on the door and startles me out of la-la land. I walk on shaky legs to the door and tell her I’m all set with towels, then go to the bathroom to shower, feeling like I’m going to burst the whole time. Despite waking up feeling like hell, the day is turning out okay. Not only did I get out of hanging out with Wade, but Matt is here.
I can’t deny how much I like him. And if late-night reconnaissance missions and soda orders from memory are any indication, he might like me, too.
By one in the afternoon, I’m clean, fed, and almost human again. Matt starts a movie and we both sit back against the headboard to watch. I hug a pillow to my torso and try to pay attention during the first five, then ten, then fifteen minutes. But something is gnawing at me.
“Why hasn’t Audrey called?” I ask, my eyes still on the TV.
“Shh,” Matt says, waving a hand at me. I’m quiet for five more minutes, all the while wondering if I’ve royally screwed up my friendship with Audrey. But I can’t for the life of me figure out how.
“Seriously, Matt, is she mad at me or something?”
“No,” he replies without looking in my direction.
“How do you know?” I ask.
“I just know.”
I try to focus on the characters in the movie, but my thoughts turn to Friday night at the mall. It was only two days ago, but it feels like a lifetime. I think of the ride home, and of Audrey’s distractedness. If she’s not mad at me, then what could it be?
Then I remember Friday’s barfing taco incident, and the fact that she lied about it. And her raspy breath at the movie. Her sweaty forehead afterward.
“Is something wrong with Audrey?” I ask, grasping. Matt’s face snaps toward mine.
“What do you mean?” he asks, more confrontational than questioning. His defensiveness tells me that I’ve hit on something.
“It’s just that her voice always seems raspy and she gets tired easily and Friday, after the movie, she looked super out of it and…” My voice trails off. It sounds silly when I say it aloud. Except Matt is staring at me as if I just ran over his dog.
“What’s wrong?” I ask softly. Without thinking too much about it, I reach out and touch my fingertips to his. I’m surprised by my confidence, but I don’t move my fingers from his. Matt turns his head away, but he doesn’t move his fingers, either.
“I’m not supposed to tell you,” he says flatly.