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It wasn’t unusual for Cynthia to go the whole school day without seeing her girlfriend. They were in different classes and usually their paths just didn’t cross; this didn’t stop Cynthia from subconsciously looking for her everywhere she went, but that was beside the point. When Cynthia didn’t see her around that day, she was disappointed but not surprised.
She was surprised however when she didn’t see her at drama club that afternoon. Lydia simply did not miss rehearsal. None of the other thespians had seen or heard from her all day either. Her mysterious absence turned out to be even more distracting for Cynthia than her presence usually was; Mr. Vaughan often had to say her name two or three times before she realized she was being spoken to.
The ride home was a blur. All of a sudden she was at her house, and she couldn’t quite remember the details of getting there. The first thing she did when she got inside was call Lydia’s house. She sat on the couch with her leg bouncing uncontrollably while the phone rang for one whole minute. Then another; her brow furrowed. One more minute of ringing and bouncing and furrowing, and then panic set in.
She frantically hung the phone back up, scrawled a note to her dad, and was out the door.
She swallowed hard before knocking on Lydia's front door. There were birds chirping, bright laughter from the neighborhood kids, and the whoosh of cars passing, but no signs of life from inside the house that she could hear. She knocked once more, but was simultaneously looking for where a spare key might be hidden or a window that might be cracked if the door was locked and she had to break in (because she was concerned enough at this point to seriously consider breaking into her girlfriend’s house).
“Come in!”
Her head whipped towards the door. It was so quiet that for a moment she wondered if she was just hearing what she wanted to hear, but she wrenched the door open anyway.
All of the lights were off and the curtains drawn, so she had to blindly feel her way to Lydia’s room. After successfully bruising up her shins on various pieces of furniture, her hand finally found the doorknob she was looking for.
Slowly, she cracked the door open and peaked inside. “Lydia?”
There was a drawn out, pained groan. “Cyn?” Her voice was scratchy and she sounded stuffy, like she’d been crying. Concern overrode propriety at that point, and she burst inside and flicked on the light.
Movement caught her eye. Lydia’s blue chenille bedspread whipped over head before Cynthia could get a good look at her. Several crumpled tissues that had evidently been laying on it flew up into the air and landed amongst what had to be several boxes worth on the floor.
“Hey,” she said, rushing forward. “What’s wrong?”
“No! Don’t come over here!”
She shook her head as she tromped through the sea of tissues. “I have to. You’re upset.”
The little lump under the covers that she assumed was Lydia’s head shook from side to side. “I’m not upset.” She croaked, sounding very upset. “I’m sick. If you come over here you’ll get it too.”
Her heart clenched. “Oh, sweetheart.” She settled on the bed and reached up to pull the covers down, but Lydia’s hands shot up to keep the edge of the bedspread in place. “Come on, let me see so I can help you.”
“I don’t want you to see me like this!” she screeched. Well, Cynthia assumed it was supposed to come out as a screech. Instead it came out as more of a rasp that quickly devolved into a coughing fit. “I’m hideous,” she wailed once the coughs subsided.
An uncontrollable smile took over her face–Lydia was using her Theatre Voice. She was clearly ill, but she was also clearly the kind of person who became a total baby when sick. If Lydia weren’t under the covers right now, she would have put money on the fact that she had her hand to her forehead like a Victorian damsel. It made perfect sense; it was so perfectly Lydia. She was charmed beyond belief.
She scooched up further on the bed so she could lean over her form properly. “Not possible.” That just got a meek grumble in response. “Where are your parents?”
“They’re visiting my grandparents.” A big sigh. “I’m all alone!”
For whatever reason, it was that exaggerated whine that decided it for her beyond the shadow of a doubt: Lydia was about to get simultaneously babied and teased within an inch of her life.
“Not anymore you’re not.”
The blanket pulled tighter over her head. “You’ll get sick.”
“Don’t worry about me. I don’t get sick,” she said, gently tugging on the bedspread. “C’mon. Please?”
It began to give and Lydia’s pouting face was slowly revealed. There was a damp washcloth on her forehead that didn’t look like it was doing much of anything anymore. Her nose was bright red from being rubbed raw with tissues. There was a sheen of sweat glistening across her ghostly pale skin. What really got her though was the expression on her face. Her big blue eyes were looking up at Cynthia through long lashes, and her lips were turned down in a pout that had no right being as cute as it was.
Her amusement must have shown on her face, because Lydia’s eyes rolled and she started to pull the covers back up. “Don’t make fun of me! I am infirm.”
She stopped the bedspread from covering her face, threw back her head, and let out a loud laugh. “You are infirm?!” Lydia huffed in indignation, but couldn’t hide the way the corner of her mouth tilted up for a brief moment. “You’re such a drama kid, I swear.” She plucked the mostly dry washcloth from her forehead before bending down and pressing a kiss to it. She was burning up. “Let me take care of you, okay?”
Lydia’s head nodded minutely underneath her lips. Cynthia nodded in kind before pulling the covers down a bit more and wrapping her arms around her. “Let’s get you sat up, okay?” Through the shuffling and shifting of pillows, they managed to get Lydia upright where she promptly started coughing and sniffling.
Cynthia passed her a tissue. “When’s the last time you ate?”
“Umm…?”
“Yeah, okay. I’m making you soup.” She started making a list in her head of other things she needed to do: Soup, tea, clean her room, get her into the shower and into some clean clothes, make sure she gets some sleep–
She was halfway out the door when Lydia’s voice croaked out, “Wait! Are you sure you can handle that?”
“Can I handle opening a can and pouring soup into a pot?” she said, offended.
Lydia just leveled her with a flat look.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll let you know if I need help.”
She flicked the light back off and went to work. They didn’t spend a ton of time at Lydia’s house, but she’d been there enough to have a general idea of where things were. The first thing she did was get her another cool washcloth. When it touched her skin, she sighed and melted further into her pillows. Cynthia swiped a thumb over her pale cheek before opening her window to let some fresh air in. She was fairly sure Lydia fell asleep only a moment later.
She did struggle a little with the can opener (not that she’d ever tell Lydia that), but otherwise she got the soup on the stove without incident. While it was warming up, she called her house.
“Hello?” Her dad’s voice was rough and warm, even through the static of the phone lines.
“Hey, dad; it’s me.”
“Hey, kiddo!” She heard him groan and sigh as if he’d just laid out on his chair and put his feet up. “I saw your note. Your friend okay?”
A series of coughs followed by a sneeze sounded from down the hall. “She will be. Look, her family’s out of town and she’s got no one else to help her. I think I’ll stay the night here if that’s okay. Maybe school tomorrow, too.”
“That’s just fine. You need anything from me?”
“No way, you worked a 12 hour shift today. I can handle everything here.”
She could practically hear him lift his hand up to his face and rub his tired eyes. “Yeah, if you’re sure.”
“I am.”
“Alright then. You’re a good friend, kid. Tell her I hope she feels better soon.”
She smiled into the receiver. “I will. Thanks, dad.”
“No problem, hun. You have a good night.”
“You too.”
Cynthia was fairly sure that everything she knew about being a good person she learned from her dad. He worked harder than anyone she knew, he was unfailingly kind, and so generous (even when he didn’t have anything left to give). It was moments like that, where he’d ask what else he can do for her even after being on his feet for 12 hours to keep food on their table, that she found herself appreciating him anew.
When another series of coughs and sniffles came from her girlfriend’s room, she started rummaging around for the other things she needed. A kettle, cough medicine, tea bags, honey–
She hadn’t been lying when she told Lydia she didn’t really get sick. The few times she could remember getting sick, she’d had to fend for herself; generally her dad couldn’t afford to take any days off work. There was a unit in home ec where they learned about caring for sick babies, and she assumed much of the same would apply here, but she’d never been great at the whole… homemaker thing. She was just working off instinct and hoping it was enough.
If she didn’t already know that she and Lydia’s home lives were very different, the dichotomy between their kitchens would have tipped her off for sure. At her house, the freezer was always full and the fridge was always empty. Here, the only things in the freezer were ice and butcher paper-wrapped packages of meat. The fridge was a veritable hellscape of color: Towers of jello with mysterious solid bits suspended inside, what looked like a spam loaf covered with something green, and bowls of unidentifiable goo covered with plastic wrap.
After some digging in the cupboards, she managed to find soda crackers and a breakfast tray. She ladled some steaming soup into the first bowl she saw and balanced everything on the tray before making her way carefully down the hall.
When she nudged the door open with her foot, she found Lydia right where she left her, her head flopped over to the side with her eyes closed and a tissue in her hand. “Hey,” she whispered. “I’ve got soup.”
She sniffled and cracked an eye open. “Is the kitchen okay?”
She rolled her eyes and settled the tray down across her lap. “Of course it’s okay.” Lydia rubbed her nose and mumbled something into her tissue. Cynthia leaned over to flick the bedside lamp on. “I am a fantastic cook.”
“You opened a can.”
“Oh, just shut up and eat. Enough with the slander, already.”
Lydia kicked her socked foot out of the covers and nudged Cynthia’s leg with a smile. With a fond smile of her own, she wrapped her hand around her ankle and gave a squeeze.
As Lydia started to eat, Cynthia got up and moved around the room. She started by gathering all of the tissues on the floor into the trash, which was not nearly as gross to her as it should have been; love masks many things, one of which is disgust at used tissues, apparently. Then she started putting various items that Lydia had pulled within easy reach back to where they belonged. She felt eyes following her as she flitted around, but that didn’t stop her.
“What if I need that?” she asked as she pulled a heating pad out from underneath her.
“Then, I’ll get it for you?”
She pursed her lips to blow a cooling breath onto her spoonful of soup. “No, I mean after you leave.”
She froze and turned to her. “Oh, I’m not leaving. Not until you’re better, anyway.”
Lydia choked a bit on her soup and she reached out her hand to pat her gently on the back. “I can’t ask you to do that!”
“You didn’t ask. I’m telling you.” She opened and closed her mouth several times, but Cynthia just pointed at the door and said, “I’m going to get you something to drink,” before heading back to the kitchen.
She came back several minutes later with a bottle of cold medicine and a glass of water. Lydia was sniffling more than coughing now, so she assumed the warm soup did its job. “Are you still hungry?” she asked when she saw the bowl was empty.
She shook her head. “Just tired. I haven’t been able to get more than a few minutes of sleep at a time.”
“Well, here. This should help.” She plucked the spoon from the empty bowl and held it out for Lydia. She stuck her neck out slightly, wrapped her lips tightly around it, and pulled back, to clean it. Cynthia poured a spoonful of the cold medicine and held it out once more for her. She chased the medicine with water and a grimace.
“Thank you.”
“Of course.” She reached forward and traced her fingertips through the sweat-damp bangs that were stuck to her forehead. “Hey, you’ve already got some color back in your cheeks! Let me take your temperature before you go to sleep.”
A weak cough. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted as she reached over to grab the thermometer. “It just feels like I should. Open up.”
She popped the glass tube in Lydia’s mouth and watched as the mercury rose slowly but surely to the top. Once it stopped, she pulled it out and read out the small number. “100, maybe a little over.”
Lydia groaned and started scooting down the bed to lay down again. Cynthia tried to move the pillows with her so her neck was always supported. “It was higher this morning, but that’s still not great.” Her eyes were already closed, and the next time she spoke it was a whisper. “You’re a good girlfriend.”
She squatted down next to the bed and started stroking her hair gently, repetitively. “Yeah? You’re not so bad yourself. When you’re not being a drama queen, that is.”
But Lydia was too close to sleep for jokes. “I love you,” she mumbled.
Cynthia’s heart fluttered in her chest. “I love you, too. Get some sleep okay?”
“M’kay.”
She stayed there, playing with her hair, until she was positive she was asleep. Once her chest started rising and falling evenly, she gently pulled away and got to work on her to-do list. It was still relatively early, only barely dark outside, but she thought she might want to figure out her sleep situation soon; she thought Lydia may be up and down all night.
As quickly and quietly as she could, she carded through her dresser for fresh pajamas Lydia would be able to change into when she got up. After a moment of indecision, she decided to pick something out for herself as well. Surely Lydia wouldn’t mind. She indulged herself a little by searching around until she found her favorite of Lydia’s sweaters to wear over the chosen pajama set.
Then she took the breakfast tray back to the kitchen and was able to lose herself for a bit in the banality of chores. Dishes done, she called Nancy and warned her she likely wouldn’t be at school tomorrow, but that everything was fine. She tried to find something in the fridge to eat, but she wasn’t entirely sure what anything was, and she had a policy about mystery jellos, so she ended up making herself some peanut butter toast and calling it good.
The sleep situation was a head scratcher. The couch in the living room was too far away in case Lydia needed something in the middle of the night, she wasn’t going to crawl into her bed without her permission, nor did she love the idea of sleeping on the floor. In the end, she pulled the cushions, pillows, and blankets off of the couch and set up a little makeshift bed at the foot of Lydia’s.
Grabbing her change of clothes, she made her way into the bathroom where, thankfully, she found a spare toothbrush underneath the sink. She changed, locked the front door, turned out all of the lights, and settled herself down on Lydia’s floor. That’s definitely not where she thought she’d be spending the night when she woke up that morning, but she wasn’t complaining. She wished Lydia wasn’t sick of course, but any time she got to spend with her was golden.
She let the sleeves of her girlfriend’s sweater fall over her fingers, curled her fists around them, and closed her eyes. She fell asleep surrounded by the scent of Lydia all around her, and the sound of her sleeping just a few feet away.
About three hours later, they both woke up thanks to a coughing fit coming from the girl on the bed. Cynthia stumbled over, half asleep, and rubbed up and down her back while helping her hold the water glass to her mouth. One of the coughs caught her in the middle of a sip, and it went down the wrong pipe. This inevitably caused even more coughing; this time with eye watering and a bit of panic as she was still mostly asleep. All Cynthia could do was continue to be there for her. “You’re alright, baby. Just breathe,” she whispered.
About an hour after that, Cynthia woke up to the sound of Lydia’s teeth chattering in her sleep. As quietly as she could, she plugged the heating pad into the wall socket and unfurled the cord towards the bed. She lifted up the bedspread and slipped the heating pad inside. Lydia immediately grabbed onto it, eyes still closed, and stopped shivering a few minutes later.
A blanket landing violently on her face woke her up soon after. She sat up quickly, looking around in the dark completely disoriented. Tension melted off of her shoulders when she realized that Lydia had just kicked the bedspread and heating pad off of the bed. She crawled over, unplugged the heating pad, and flopped back down onto the couch cushions.
The next time she woke, Lydia was on her way back from the bathroom and had another coughing fit while getting back in bed. They were both only half awake, but they did manage to get some more cough medicine and water into her before getting her settled (covers on, because she was shivering again). Thankfully, that was the last time either of them woke up until morning.
The knock on the door startled her more than anything. She sat up, head spinning, and immediately looked over to the bed, but Lydia was sound asleep. Her heart was still pounding from residual fright as she pushed herself up and wandered out to answer the door.
“Nancy?” She rubbed her eyes. “Is that you?”
She stretched her arms out, bags in each hand. “Good morning!”
“Keep it down!” she whispered. “She’s asleep.”
“You look exhausted,” in a loud whisper.
Through a yawn, she said, “Aw, thanks. You’re so sweet.”
Nancy just shrugged and handed over the bags. “You have your pancakes with a variety of fruit topping options, your hash browns, eggs, bacon, white toast, wheat toast, and rye toast all with all necessary accouterments.”
Cynthia blinked in the sunlight. “What time is it? What is happening right now?”
“It’s 7:15. I stopped by the Frosty Palace on the way to school to bring food for you and your sickly girlfriend.” She looked her up and down, from her ruffled hair to what were obviously Lydia’s clothes. “She is sick, isn’t she? That wasn’t just an excuse so you two could–all day was it?”
At the implication her hands loosened and she had to fumble to grab the bags before they fell. “I–wh–n–no! Absolutely not! We–I mean–She has a cold and I’m just here un–until she gets better. Geez Louise, Nancy. It is seven in the morning.” She looked side to side as if someone would materialize in Lydia’s entryway and hear this conversation. “You can’t just say things like that at seven in the morning.”
Nancy hummed and pursed her lips. “Hmm… fine. Whatever you say. I’ve gotta get to school.”
Still reeling, it took her a second to say, “Yeah, okay. Thank you for this. It’s oddly sweet of you.”
“No big deal. Have fun–I mean, I hope she feels better.” Cynthia felt her tired eyes roll as Nancy gave her a huge, conspiratorial wink before waving and making her way down the driveway.
Once the door was closed and locked, she set their breakfast in the kitchen before tiptoeing back to Lydia’s room and poking her head inside. When her eyes adjusted back to the darkness, she saw that Lydia was sitting up in bed. “Hey,” she whispered as she came the rest of the way. “I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”
She wiped her nose with a tissue and shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Who was at–Are you wearing my clothes?”
“Oh.” She squirmed under her stare, pulling the sleeves over her fingers and hugging herself with them. “Yeah. Is that okay? I know I didn’t ask, but you didn’t say anything last night, so…”
Her eyebrows flew up. “Oh, no it’s fine. I like seeing you in them, is all.” She smiled, already looking much more like her normal self than she had in the middle of the night. “I guess I don’t remember much after the cold medicine.”
Cynthia made her way over to sit on the edge of the bed and twirled their hands together. “That’s okay. There’s not much to remember. We got up a few times, I gave you some more cold medicine at about 3:30, and you’ve been asleep since then.”
“Wait, where did you sleep?”
She pointed behind her. “I pulled the cushions off of the couch and dragged them in here.”
“Oh my god, I can’t believe you slept on my floor. And who was just here?” She buried her face in her free hand. “I feel like I’ve been asleep for a year. It’s still 1955, right?”
“Yes it is,” she said, smiling against the back of her hand before placing a kiss there. “Nancy came by and brought us some breakfast before school. You hungry? You seem like you’re feeling better.”
“I do feel a little better. I think my fever might be gone.”
“Well, how about you take your temperature again,” she leaned over to grab the thermometer and deposit it into her hand. “And I’ll go get our breakfast ready.”
She nodded and slid the thermometer under her tongue. “Bring the breakfast tray again, and some orange juice?” she asked, speech impeded by the thermometer.
“Whatever you want.” She bit back a smile. “I’ll be right back, my liege.” Lydia smiled around the glass tube when Cynthia backed up out of the room, bowing dramatically the whole time.
When she turned the corner, she was shocked by how quickly the act dropped. Her back pressed up against the wall and she ran her fingers through her hair. She hadn’t realized how nervous she’d been until Lydia’s condition started to improve. It was silly, she knew. It was just a cold, she was always going to be fine. Still though, she’d never taken care of someone like this before, and until a minute ago, she had no idea if she was doing the right thing or just making everything worse. Lydia deserved to be taken care of, she was lucky enough to get to be the one to do it, and she definitely didn’t want to mess it up.
After collecting herself, she pushed off of the wall and headed to the kitchen to get their breakfast ready. She easily could have taken everything out of the bags and put them onto the tray, take out containers and all. But Lydia hadn’t smiled enough in the last day or so, and Cynthia decided that was a crime, so instead she spent 10 minutes taking the food out of their containers and presenting them on the fanciest dishes she could find. She even put the condiments in a crystal bowl, and found some wine glasses for their orange juice.
She made her way, very slowly, back to Lydia’s room and nudged open the door with her foot. “Breakfast service for your royal highness,” she declared in an accent she hoped was vaguely British. Lydia’s eyes grew wide and she clapped a hand over her mouth. “We have a varied selection for your enjoyment this fine morning. If I may, I humbly suggest the toast and pancakes for your highness’ sensitive constitution.”
She settled the tray carefully across Lydia’s lap and crawled up to sit against the headboard with her. Lydia turned her head to look at her, eyes still wide, and said, “You are the most dramatic person–” and then had to whip her head away to accommodate another coughing fit.
“Mhm,” Cynthia hummed as she reached out to grab a piece of bacon. “That’s what you get. I’m the most dramatic person? You can’t be serious.”
“You’re not allowed to call me dramatic! I’m ailing!”
She’d just taken a bite of bacon, so when she yelled, “Ailing?! Good grief,” it didn’t sound like much, but Lydia seemed to get the picture.
“Yes,” she said confidently. “I am ailing.”
Cynthia grabbed one of the wine glasses and held it up between them. “Fine. To both of us being incredibly dramatic.”
The glasses tinked lightly as Lydia knocked them together, orange juice glinting in the morning light streaming in from the window. “I’ll drink to that.”
For the next hour, they sat up in bed and ate breakfast while chatting. Lydia mostly stuck to plain pancakes and toast with butter (she wasn’t feeling 100% yet) and Cynthia took care of everything else. “I was so hungry,” she said as she leaned back onto the headboard, stomach swollen.
Her eyes followed Lydia’s hand as it reached up to brush lingering crumbs from the corner of her mouth. “Did you eat last night? There’s stuff in the fridge you could’ve had.”
“Yeah, I was going to ask you about that. The inside of your fridge looks like the surface of some kind of alien planet or something; there wasn’t one thing that was identifiable in there. Is that what you’re eating all the time? No wonder you got sick.”
The back of Lydia’s hand connected lightly with her full stomach, she grabbed it with a groan. “Hey! My mom made that food.”
“There was a log of spam covered in something green.”
“Yeah, okay that’s gross.”
She chuckled before tucking Lydia’s bangs behind her ear, letting her fingers linger on her forehead enough to get a sense of her temperature. She was significantly cooler than she was last night, to Cynthia’s relief. “How are you feeling now?”
“Still tired–I have a headache now, too. Much better overall though.”
“Do you think you’d be able to stand long enough to take a shower? You’re not dizzy or anything, are you?”
“I don’t think so,” she said, taking inventory of herself. “And what, are you trying to insinuate that I need a shower?”
“You know I think you’re beautiful 24/7, but at the moment you do look like death warmed over. I can’t lie.”
Lydia’s jaw dropped. She leaned over as much as she could with the tray still straddling her lap and started jokingly smacking Cynthia wherever she could reach. “That's–so–mean!” she yelled between raspy laughs. Cynthia could’ve rolled off of the bed at any point, but she just covered herself half heartedly and heaved with laughter of her own.
“But I love you anyway! And that’s what matters, right?”
“Uh huh,” she said, finally leaning back. “Nice save.”
They did end up getting her into a warm shower. Cynthia could only do so much to help with that obviously, but she contributed what she could (starting the water, helping her to the bathroom, and bringing her fresh clothes she could change into when she was done).
As soon as she was satisfied that Lydia wasn’t going to fall over and hit her head or something, she got down to work. Cleaning up their breakfast, changing the linens on Lydia’s bed, boiling water for tea, returning the cushions to the couch, and the task she was dreading most: Calling the school. If McGee hadn’t noticed she was gone, she’d just be drawing attention to herself, but someone had to let the school know Lydia was alright.
“Rydell High.”
“Hey, Ms. McGee. It’s uh–it’s Cynthia Zdunowski.”
She heard the shuffling of papers from the other end of the line. “Ah yes, Miss Zdunowski. Your father already called to let me know you wouldn’t be at school today. You’re excused.”
Her eyebrows flew up. “Oh! Okay, great. Well, I just wanted to let you know why Lydia Wilson wasn’t at school yesterday or today. She’s home sick. Her parents are out of town and she hasn’t been well enough to call.” A few coughs echoed off of the tiled shower walls a few rooms away, and she grimaced. “I’m not sure she’ll be well enough to come tomorrow, either.”
“Oh, well thank you for that, dear. She’s never been unexcused two days in a row and we were beginning to worry about her. We’ll still need a call from her parents once they get back to officially consider her excused, but I’ll have her homework brought to the office in the meantime.”
“Could you put hers with mine and send it all home with Nancy?” Silence filled the line, and she was worried she’d taken it one step too far. Was that not a thing just-friends did for each other? She cleared her throat. “Is, uh, is that okay?”
After a few more seconds of silence, McGee’s voice came back through. “Are you feeling okay, Miss Zdunowski?”
“Y-yeah. Why?”
“I’ve never known you to ask after your homework. I’ve never known you to complete your homework, for that matter.”
“Yeah, well don’t get used to it or anything.” Then she hung up.
The shower faucet squeaked as it turned off. “Hey,” she called, walking towards the bathroom door. “I’m making tea. Will you drink some?”
Lydia’s voice was muffled, as if buried in a towel. “That sounds good, thank you.”
“Your head feeling any better?”
She let out a groan and a sigh. “I’d take some Aspirin, I think.”
“You got it.” She got to work making their tea and finding Aspirin while Lydia got dried and dressed.
She emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later in a wave of steam, the scent of her vanilla soap much more potent than usual. It was a scent that Cynthia associated exclusively with her girlfriend at this point. Any time someone made cookies, or burned a scented candle, her head whipped around, instinctively looking for Lydia (even if there’s no way she could be around at that moment).
The smell alone would have driven her closer like a woman possessed. That plus the sight of her hair darkening the fabric at her shoulders and her reflexive smile at seeing Cynthia had her rushing forward and throwing her arms around the taller girl’s shoulders.
“Whoa,” she said as she stumbled back. Her surprise dissolved quickly and she pulled Cynthia in closer by her waist. “What’s this for?”
She buried her face in the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply. Lydia’s body was still warm from her shower; she wanted to crawl inside and live there. “I’m just really glad you’re feeling better.” She nosed her way through Lydia’s wet locks to place a kiss on the skin of her neck. “As much as I joke, I really didn’t like seeing you like that.”
“I love you.”
She nodded, not at all caring that her face and hair were getting damp. “I love you, too.” After a few more seconds of taking each other in, she pulled away. “Tea?”
“Please.”
“Go sit on the couch, I’ll be right over.”
By the time she made it out to the living room, Lydia was sitting all curled up on the couch with a small red book open in her hands. “Put that away! You have a headache!”
“I was just looking at that one scene I always struggle with–”
“No,” she ripped it out of her hands and replaced it with a hot mug of tea. “No running lines. You are going to drink your tea, let me brush your hair, and take another nap. Am I understood?”
Lydia’s whole body melted as the hot tea made its way down her throat. “Fine. I like the you brushing my hair idea.”
“Good, I like that idea, too.”
For the rest of the morning, they lazed on the couch; Lydia laying back on Cynthia’s chest as she gently brushed her hair, occasionally pressing chaste kisses wherever she could reach. Their tea grew cold, and her hair was brushed, but neither moved.
Just before they nodded off in each other’s arms, Lydia turned her head and whispered, “Thank you. You didn’t have to do any of this.”
“Of course I did.”
“I’m so annoying when I’m sick.”
She huffed out a quiet laugh. “I mean, yeah.” They were pressed together so closely that Lydia’s chuckle vibrated through both of their bodies. “But I don’t mind.”
___
Finally, Lydia was feeling well enough to return to school. Three days out wasn’t ideal in terms of class or, more importantly, rehearsal but she knew she could catch up.
She realized pretty quickly that Cynthia wasn’t there. She usually didn’t see her throughout the day, their paths just didn’t cross, but she did hear her several times every day. She would be walking down the hallway and hear her bright cackle from one hallway over, or she’d be in a stairwell and hear her chatting loudly with the Pink Ladies as they passed the floor above her. She loved these little pieces of Cynthia throughout the day, so when the halls were tragically empty of her, she knew something was off.
Against her better judgment, she skipped rehearsal that afternoon to make sure Cynthia was alright. She knocked on the door of apartment 106, and from inside heard a weak little, “Come in!”
She pushed her way in to find her girlfriend laid up dramatically on the couch, nose red and eyes unfocused. “Lydia?”
“Yeah honey, it’s me.”
“I’m sick,” she croaked before being pulled into full-body coughs.
She rushed forward and squatted next to the couch, guilt roiling in her stomach. “I see that. I thought you said you didn’t get sick.”
She sniffled. “I usually don’t.”
“Your dad’s at work, I assume?”
“Yep.” She tried for a dramatic sigh, but that just sent her into more coughs. When she was finally done, she looked up at Lydia through her eyelashes and pouted. “I’m all alone.”
“This is payback, isn’t it?”
“Maybe.”
She threaded her fingers through the hair at the back of Cynthia’s neck and pulled her closer as gently as she could. As soon as her lips touched her forehead and she felt the fiery skin there, panic filled her chest. It was just like the cold like she had, she would probably be fine in a few days, but Lydia knew in that moment that she was going to do everything she could to take care of her until she was well again. And if she had anything to say about it, for a long time after that as well.