Look on the Bright Side

Chapter Seventeen

I gripped the edge of the toilet bowl so hard my knuckles turned white. I vomited until the muscles in my sides pulled tight and there was nothing left of my stomach to empty. I wiped the sides of my mouth and scooted away from the toilet. I leaned my head back against the wall and took deep, shaking breaths—my stomach churning with the effort.

This all started around three in the morning last night. The sounds of my peril were loud enough to wake my mom—who immediately demanded I stay home to rest. As if I planned to do otherwise.

After what felt like a century of sitting in the bathroom, I decided that I was well enough to try and drink some water. I wobbled into the kitchen, poured a cup from the fridge filter, and ascended back to my bedroom.

The light from my window singed my eyes and I shielded them with the back of my hand before closing the curtains. My body rejected the sip of water, and I sat the full cup on the nightstand, deciding throwing up again was not worth it.

I drifted back to sleep for a few hours, and woke to the sound of my phone buzzing underneath my pillow. I rubbed the crust from my lashes and squinted to read the notification. It was Bryson calling, his contact photo lit my lock screen.

It was a picture of us from our third birthday, I had colored all over his face with a Crayola marker and pinned his dark hair up in two sloppy pigtails. He was sitting beside me, all dolled up with a big smile on his face.

I answered and as the loading screen circled I stared miserably into the camera. Bryson answered. He was driving, and I was perched on his phone mount installed to his dash. He took one look at my face and busted into a laugh. "You look terrible!"

"I feel terrible," I groaned.

He glanced back and forth from the road then to me. "Do you have a stomach bug too?"

"Too?"

"Yeah." I heard the sound of his turn signal and he checked his blind spot as he merged into the other lane. "I just hopped off a call with Noah and he looks worse than you."

I paled. "Really?"

He chuckled. "He's basically bed ridden. Can you believe that idiot went swimming last night?"

I forced a scoff. "Can you imagine?"

"Wasn't it like sixty degrees yesterday? He must have been freezing!"

"Yeah, what a dumbass!" I agreed, but something in my tone made Bryson flicker a sideways glance at me. He didn't comment on it.

"Noah said you already invited him to the baby shower." It wasn't an accusation, but still, I squirmed.

"Yeah. It came up. I hope that was okay, I mean I figured you were gonna bring him anyway." I hated how awkward and guilty I sounded.

He smiled. "Why would I mind? I'm glad you two are becoming friends."

"We've always been friends, Brys." God, don't let Noah hear that. We most certainly are not friends. Or ... were not friends? Or are we now ... more than friends?

The blood drained from my face and I felt queasy. My vision swam and despite that Bryson was saying something, I couldn't hear him. My mouth filled with saliva and I got that strange tingly feeling in my throat that always meant I was going to puke.

"I gotta go, B," I abruptly cut in. There wasn't any time for me to click to hang up as I reached for the mini trash can sitting standby on my nightstand. He was saying something still when I vomited, but by the time my heaving came to an end, he was gone.

I groaned and laid back into my bed, grateful for the peace and quiet.

I drifted back to sleep and when I woke again it was dark outside. I sat up, dazed from sleep. I checked my phone and as if my best friend could sense my presence, she texted.