Our sleep schedule got completely ruined during those few days. We were back to our messed up sleeping habits where we'd sleep the whole day and stay awake at nights.

But at least we were productive. Clay helped me study for the exam that was in 2 days, and honestly, I could already see the improvements in my knowledge. We were more than halfway through the book, and I think I remember at least the 70% of what I learned.

"Enough for today." I stretched, signaling him to close the book and stop reading.

"Alright," closing the book, he put it away, "how are you feeling?"

I was slowly but surely getting better over time. I still had problems with my fever, but at least my throat was making improvements.

"Feeling a bit hot, but okay in general." As I said that, I realized that maybe wearing a hoodie when my insides felt like they were on fire wasn't the ideal option.

"Take the hoodie off." He smirked, "You need help?"

I just looked at him with an emotionless face, sighing before taking it off. I wasn't wearing a shirt underneath, it was just my bralette, but it covered just enough skin for me to feel comfortable.

"Oh c'mon, you can't just do that.." Clay's attention was fully on my body now.

"Do what?" I frowned.

"You're sick." He spoke.

"So?"

If he's gonna start lecturing me about getting cold again-

"I feel bad for getting horny."

How can he say that so casually and phrase it in a way that makes it sound like an actual problem. And how does he want me to react?

"Then don't." I climbed on the bed, crawling to him.

"Oh, okay. How did I not think of that?"

I laughed and put a pillow on his lap, followed by my head, unlocking my screen and seeing Nick's messages. Those reminded me that George was still avoiding me.

"George left me on read by the way." Clay chuckled. It felt like he heard my thoughts.

"Why? What did you do?" I knew that George had a habit of leaving us on read after we said dumb things. Maybe that's the case this time too.

"He said hey, I said what's up and he didn't respond." He was laughing, but I could tell that it wasn't a genuine laughter.

"Hey, maybe Nick knows what's going on? As far as I know he's not getting ignored like us."

Clay shrugged, leaning back to the mountain of the pillows propped against the headboard. I twisted and turned too, trying to adjust to the new position. I ended up on my side facing him, with his legs still under me while I replied to Nick's texts. He didn't read them tho, probably he was asleep.

While I was at it, I felt his fingertips trace the side of my chest, following the curve of my ribs, in a pattern that seemed way too specific. Then I remembered that I have a tattoo there.

"Pragmatic dreaming." He wasn't close enough to my skin to read the tattoo, he apparently had it memorized.

"Yes." I spoke while typing.

"You basically have the word dream tattooed on you."

I stopped typing for a moment to look up at him with a missing face expression, "Is that all you got out of that?"

"Just saying. It's really pretty tho. Very meaningful. Very hot. Makes me wanna aaghhagggh-"

I slapped his leg when he let out of an abnoxious moan, cutting it off in the middle and making it transform into a wheeze. I love his wheezing so m-

Oh god, no. I don't.

"But you know what would make it better?" He spoke after calming down, and I looked at him with a questioning gaze, "If you added a dream blob at the end of it."

"Ew." Even though he wasn't being serious, the visual of having a dream blob tattooed on me triggered my cringe receptors.

"Okay the blob is too far.." he giggled, "but what ifff.. what if. A dream smiley next to it?"

Is he actually being serious?

"No." I scrunched up my nose.

"It would be so cute tho.. pragmatic dreaming and a smiley," he was actually being serious, "and it would go with the font of the letters too."

"Clay, I am not getting your blob smile inked on me." I made myself loud and clear. He doesn't have any tattoos, yet wants me to get one that obnoxious.

"What if I let you choose something for me in return?" He couldn't possibly be serious, but he sounded like he was.

"You're getting basketball stripes tattoed on your balls then."

And that's when he realized that his idea wasn't a valid one. All I had in mind were things like that, and I can't say that I was proud of it.

But he was being completely serious, and all I did was joke around. I kind of felt the need to make myself a bit more serious for once.

"Maybe one day.. we'll get best friend matching tattoos." I knew that day wasn't going to come, but I still had to say something nice.

"Best friend.." he mocked my words with a laugh, "I'm suddenly back in the friendzone again."

"Have you ever left it tho?" I was being mean again. Good thing he's used to it.

"I hit it twice and you're still calling me a friend," it's funny how annoyed he was, "no, no- best friend."

"Maybe you didn't hit it good enough."

I was genuinely laughing at how offended he looked, but felt bad about it too. He knew I was joking, and I knew that he didn't take my words too close to his heart, but still the amount of reaction I got out of him with a stupid simple joke was overwhelmingly hilarious.

"Once you recover," his hand traced the curve of my back, "I'm gonna split you in half."

I looked at his face to find the humor in there cause there was none in his voice. And his face had a dangerous smirk on it instead of the playful smile.

I hope tonsillitis lasts forever.

Wait.

Do I?