17

It wasn't anything fairytale-like. It was clumsy, bad, short, soft, one-sided. But it was enough to make my heart explode, my face flush an extra shade of red that doesn't belong to the fever, give me a huge smile. I bury my head in his chest, embarrassed, hoping he won't wake up. He doesn't.

I try to fall back asleep, but find myself unable to do so thanks to it being very, very hot, especially for someone with a fever. So I go back to looking at Ezra, trying to keep my mind from my actions.

He's frowning, red-faced, and sweating. I put my hand on his forehead. He's burning with a fever. Probably one he got from me... I want to see if I can find the two strangers, who I now think were Elijah and Isaiah, in Ezra's living room. So I try to get up, momentarily forgetting about my own fever that quickly brings me down again.

When Ezra finally wakes up, it's evening already. He grunts.