Bound by the Moon

4.

Normally, I liked the scent, all woodsy and full of pine, but now it was so strong that it was making my eyes water and my headache much worse, which absolutely sucked. I liked being close to my boyfriend. I liked being able to close my eyes and shut out the rest of the world, leaving only me and him on the dance floor. Being held by him always calmed my raging anxiety, telling me that as scary as the outside world got, I’d always have a safe haven.

Until his hands dropped lower.

At first, I liked where they’d rested on my lower back, rubbing little circles into the tense muscles there. I constantly reminded myself to sit up when I studied, but I often ended up like a shrimp hunched over whatever surface I was sitting in front of. Not exactly great for my back, so I enjoyed the gentle pressure there.

But then his fingers toyed with the bottom hem of my dress, and alarm went through me. I jerked my head upward, looking up at his face in surprise. Did he know what he was doing?

Oh, he most certainly did. I could tell by the cheeky smirk he sent me back.

“Something wrong?” he asked, voice barely audible over the thumping music. Had the club gotten even louder? It was making me so incredibly dizzy. God, I needed a gallon of Excedrin.

“My dress is too short for you to be doing that,” I tried to say playfully, like it was no big deal, but every movement of the hem made me worry that I was flashing the people around us. I knew that wouldn’t matter to some, but it did to me. I was extremely particular about who could feel up my bare thighs, and the majority of the club wasn’t on that list.

Then Gavin’s gaze slid down my body in a way that made me feel far more gorgeous than I actually was. “Hmm, it is pretty short, isn’t it?” he mused.

I flushed yet again, but for a vastly different reason than the first few times tonight—and a much more welcome one. Desire sat low in my belly as he leaned down to press a kiss to the side of my neck. For a moment, I felt wonderful.

But then, of course, my nausea reasserted itself, reminding me I had a lot to be concerned about.

Shit.

My breathing picked up, and it was like I was thrust into total overstimulation. I felt like I could smell a hundred different perfumes all around me, and they were all cloyingly artificial, making my head spin. It felt like I could taste them, too. They were acrid on my tongue and in my throat.

It was all too much, and I found myself wiggling out of Gavin’s hold. “I think I need a couple of minutes outside,” I said.

My eyes made their way to Gavin’s face, and I could see that he was both concerned and annoyed. I felt bad, I did, but if I didn’t get out into fresh air, I was worried I would spew everywhere.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Definitely not.”

“Alright, let’s get you out of here.”

Gavin’s firm grip landed on my shoulders, and I found myself being steered out of the club as he looked back to our friends. “Hey, we’ll be right back!” he called to them. “Just need a breather!”

Gavin didn’t stop until I was safely outside the doors.

Holy s**t!

The cold slammed into me like an actual physical force. I was nearly knocked over, and try as Gavin might to catch me in time, I bent forward and finally lost the contents of my stomach. Ew. It was about as unpleasant as I’d expected, and I wanted to be safe at home in my pajamas.

“Whoa, how much did you have to drink, babe?” Gavin asked, somewhere between worried and amused.

“Only like... two shots!” I blurted it out, even though that wasn’t exactly true.

Gavin chided me like I was a baby. “Did you even eat dinner?”

I paused. “Maybe.”

“Uh-huh. You know that having alcohol on an empty stomach, especially when you’re recovering from illness, isn’t a good idea.”

My nausea was subsiding, but his tone wasn’t exactly doing wonders for my mood. Occasionally, Gavin would go on long, long lectures where he would insist that he knew best. He did, most of the time, but I was so not in the mood for it.

At least he was gentle as he brushed my hair back with his fingers and helped me straighten up. “Are you alright, chickadee?”

I wanted to be the cool girlfriend, to go back into the club like nothing was wrong and I was totally normal. I couldn’t, though. Despite spending my childhood hiding, I’d never really developed the ability not to be myself.

“I think I need to go home,” I said miserably, feeling like a failure.

“What?” he said blankly. “But you just got here. And you look so great, you know?”

“I’m sorry, babe,” I said. “I don’t feel good.”

“Babe, you can’t disappear so soon when I didn’t get to see you last week at all!”

Our eyes locked at that, and at least Gavin had the good sense to look abashed by his words. I’d kept away for his own good, given my fever. It was one thing to roam the halls while I was masked up. It was another entirely to cuddle and eat around each other until I infected him.

“Sorry, that was selfish,” he said. “I miss you, and I wanna spend time with you, you know? Things are only going to get worse when midterms hit.”

They most certainly were. Still, if he really did enjoy being with me, he could have lunch with me occasionally when I wasn’t burning up with a fever. The only time he ever wanted to see me was after dark. Then again, I knew that was often the plight of college students. We were young, so nightlife was supposed to be our thing.

Too bad it never really felt like much fun for me. Maybe I was just boring.

“You know what, let me call the family car,” he said. “I’ll have you taken back to your place.”

“No, no, that’s fine,” I stammered. “I can get an Uber.”

“No,” he countered. “It’ll only take a call, and I know money’s tight, anyway.”

With that, he pulled out his phone, and although I wanted to go home, things felt like they were going too fast and I was possibly making the wrong decision. It was hard to think with how much my head was pounding, a relentless gong knocking in my brain.

“Wait! I left my satchel in the coat check.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get it for you. I’ll be back lickety-split!”

He left, and I was completely alone now. I was now acutely aware of how vulnerable I was as an inebriated woman by herself in the middle of the night.

And it was cold. So incredibly cold.

I pulled at the hem of my sweater as I fidgeted, covering as much of myself against the elements as possible. I wondered if the garment would ever regain its natural shape or have strange dips in the hem forever. At least it was cheap.

As much as I tried to keep my thoughts on that to distract myself, my mind kept going back to the stupid bug I’d caught. Hopefully, if I got some real sleep, it’d go away.

I couldn’t afford to lose any more time.