Destiny's P.O.V
I sat cross-legged on my bed, the dim light from my lamp casting a soft, golden hue on the papers scattered across my comforter. My laptop buzzed softly, a half-finished spreadsheet open on the screen. I sniffled, wiping my nose with a tissue. The tissue pile beside me had grown embarrassingly tall. Stupid cold.
It had been two days since I last set foot in the office one, because of the flu, and two, because of him. Liam. I needed space, time to think, and let's be real, a way to stop obsessing over every word, every glance we'd exchanged. Avoidance seemed like a brilliant solution. My heart didn't agree, but when has it ever?
So, I ran to the nearest store, grabbed five tubs of ice cream, and swore to drown my thoughts in sugar. I'd binged every romantic movie I could think of. But guess what? It didn't help. I polished off all five tubs, yeah, all of them and woke up the next morning with a fever and a cold to match. Smooth move, Destiny. Now, I was sick and emotionally wrecked.
"You really did a number on yourself," my brain helpfully chimed in.
"Ugh, don't start," I grumbled aloud.
"You know avoiding Liam won't last forever," it continued in that smug voice only the part of my brain that's annoyingly right could muster.
"Who says I'm avoiding him?" I challenged weakly.
"Please. You could've gone to work today. Your fever is gone. It's just a cold."
"Fine! Okay, you win! I'm avoiding him. Happy now?"
"Very."
I rolled my eyes when I heard a knock at the door. A glance at the clock told me it was almost nine. Who would show up this late? I swung my legs off the bed, bracing myself against the slight dizziness that came with standing. I padded toward the door, opening it cautiously. And there he was.
Liam.
Dressed in his work clothes, his shirt slightly rumpled as if he'd come here straight from the office. My heart did a somersault in my chest, and I cursed myself for the sudden flutter of emotions.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice a little sharper than I intended.
Without answering, he stepped closer and raised a hand to my forehead, the warmth of his palm startling against my cool skin.
"Hey! What are you—" I started, but my words were cut off by a sudden sneeze.
He dropped his hand, concern etched across his features. "I heard from Alexis that you weren't well."
His eyes roamed over me too much roaming, if you ask me. I followed his gaze and, oh. OH. I was wearing an old T-shirt, without a bra, and tiny shorts that barely qualified as clothing. I crossed my arms over my chest, heat rushing to my face.
Liam's eyes widened as he registered my state of undress, his face turning an adorable shade of crimson. He coughed awkwardly and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Uh... I'll just, um, sit over there." He gestured toward the couch.
"Yeah. Give me a minute." I bolted toward my room, cursing under my breath. I hurriedly slipped on a bra, not bothering to change my clothes. If he had a problem with my T-shirt and shorts, he could leave.
When I returned to the living room, Liam had already removed his coat and was seated on the couch, drumming his fingers against his knee. I sat down on the armchair opposite him, pulling a cushion into my lap like a shield.
"How are you feeling?" he asked after a moment.
"Better, but the cold's still here," I replied, clutching the cushion tighter.
"You taking your meds?"
"Yeah."
Silence stretched between us, thick and awkward. I watched him shift uncomfortably, his eyes scanning the room as if looking for something to talk about.
"I thought you were avoiding me," he said finally, his voice soft but direct.
I froze, my fingers tightening around the cushion. "Maybe. Maybe not. I've been sick, so…"
He let out a sigh, leaning forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees. "Look, I know what happened in the office was... a lot. I crossed a line. I'm sorry, Destiny. You were trying to give me another chance just as friends and I messed it up."
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out two small chocolate bars. "I brought these to apologize. Your favorites."
My heart squeezed at the gesture. He remembered. I took the chocolates from him, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "I forgive you. But only because of the chocolate."
I tore open one of the wrappers and took a bite, moaning softly as the familiar taste melted on my tongue.
Liam chuckled. "Still obsessed with those, huh?"
I nodded, grinning. "How could I not be? They're perfect."
He leaned closer, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Though, I have to say…" He reached up, brushing his thumb along the corner of my mouth, wiping away a bit of melted chocolate. "It tastes even better now."
Then without missing a beat he popped his thumb into his mouth, moaning dramatically.
"Okay, pervert!" I laughed, swatting him with the cushion. He raised his arms, shielding himself, his deep laugh filling the room.
"Alright, alright! Stop, or I'll eat the rest of your chocolate."
I gasped, clutching the bar protectively to my chest. "You wouldn't dare!"
"Try me."
We stared at each other for a moment before he broke into a grin.
"Have you eaten dinner?" he asked, suddenly serious.
I shook my head, guilt creeping in. "No."
"Then no more chocolate until you eat something." He snatched the bar from my hand, holding it above his head.
"Liam!" I whined, standing on tiptoe to try and grab it. He just chuckled, keeping it well out of my reach.
"Tell you what," he said, his tone playful but firm. "I'll cook you dinner. If you eat everything, you get your chocolate back."
I pouted, crossing my arms. "Fine. But only because I'm too sick to argue."
Liam smiled triumphantly and headed toward the kitchen. I sat at the counter, watching him pull ingredients from the fridge. We chatted as he cooked, our conversation light and easy, the tension from earlier melting away. It felt… natural, being with him like this. Comfortable, even.
After a while, he set two plates on the coffee table and handed me a bowl of hot soup. "Drink this. It'll help with the cold."
I took a sip, warmth spreading through me. "This is really good. Where'd you learn to cook?"
"Melissa taught me the basics, and I picked up a few recipes on my own," he admitted, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.
I smiled. "Well, you're pretty good at it."
We finished our meal, and I took my medicine without protest. As I started to clear the dishes, Liam gently nudged me aside. "I've got this. You need to rest."
"But—"
"No buts. Go to bed, or I'll eat the rest of your chocolates."
I narrowed my eyes at him but obeyed, retreating to my room. I changed into pajamas and crawled under the covers, exhaustion tugging at my eyelids.
Just as I was about to drift off, I felt a hand gently brush against my hair. I blinked my eyes open to find Liam standing beside my bed, his expression soft.
"Sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to wake you. I just wanted to say I'm heading out."
I reached for his hand, the medicine making me braver than usual. "Stay," I murmured, shifting over to make space. "It's late. Don't go."
He hesitated for a moment, then slipped under the covers beside me. His warmth was comforting, and I instinctively curled closer.
As I drifted off, I felt his arm wrap around my waist, holding me close. And for the first time in days, I slept without dreaming.