Julia’s POV:
I am sick.
I am ill.
I am very unwell.
“103.4,” Marcelo says.
That’s a high number. Am I going to die?
Is this it? Is this the end of my life?
There are times when I imagine how my life would end, and catching a cold because of a werewolf is not one of them.
The sound of harsh breathing beats into my ears. Unlike my mucus-filled lungs, my mind feels like it’s on clouds. “I need to go,” I breathe out. I have classes to attend to and books to c***k.
When did I become someone I vow to never be?
Responsible.
Marcelo pushes me back onto his bed, “Nowhere,” he says. “You need to go nowhere.”
I cough, “I’ll feel better if I do something.”
He glances down at me, “You’ll feel better after a good day of rest.” He grabbed my phone, “What’s your password?”
How dare he touch
