Chapter 34: Chapter 34

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Calm. Quiet. Some friendly, encouraging words here and there...

No need to panic.  It wouldn't help the situation, and it wouldn't help Jessi at all.  If he showed how worried he really was, the panic and anxiety would only worsen her mental state.

"You don't have close friends here in Cali?" he asked casually, sitting hunched over, waiting for her to finish packing.

"Not really. No." Jessi kept her back to him as she paced in the other room. She was tidying up her personal belongings on the divan to distract herself.

"Any relatives? Family friends?"

"My Uncle Pete and Aunt Marin," she called out from the other room.  With the door wide open, she put on a white sweater, and then some pants.  "Is this okay?" She turned to look at him and pointed to her jeans.

"Yeah. Why?"

Well, to be fair, she'd look good in anything.  Even a dirty potato sack wouldn't distract people from her naturally pretty face.  "Or should I just wear a dress so they wouldn't have to ask me to take off my pants in the ER?" Jessi frowned and itched her forehead.

Did she really think she needed to go to the nearest emergency room now?  She must be feeling worse.

"Whichever you're comfortable with," he replied, putting on a smile to seem unfazed.  "You have an aunt and uncle here in LA?"

"They're in San Francisco."

"Paternal side?"

"He's dad's cousin." Jessi stepped away from the door and leaned over the divan. She grabbed her handbag and zipped it on her thigh.

"Ah.  But you don't see them often?"

"No. Uncle Pete's always busy, and Aunt Marin runs a casino hotel, so...  Both workaholics."  Wearing a face mask now, she walked towards him and stopped next to the couch. Her pale fingers clasped the strap of her bag. It looked beige and covered half of her hips.

"What'd you put in there?"

"Just some clothes and stuff."

"What does he do? Your uncle."

"He writes, mostly. Sometimes he works on films."

"A screenwriter?" he asked.

"Sometimes. Yeah."  Sighing onto her mask, Jessi tossed her bag onto the couch, then flumped down beside him.

Jenson watched the concern fill her eyes. He pulled away and tried not to fidget.  "You haven't told them?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Nothing. I just... I don't really wanna bother them," she murmured with knitted brows.

"Why? You still don't want your parents to know?"

"No. Mom would freak out. Seriously."

"Yeah, but..."  Jenson stifled a sigh with his palm.

Why wouldn't she just give them a call and let them know about her situation?

"They should know, Jess," he said in a calmer voice. "Just text them."

"I did."

"Just now? You told them you tested positive?"

"Yeah. But just mild symptoms."

"Okay," he sighed.  Well, good enough that she let them know about the test results.  "No close friends you could call?"

She shook her head faintly and just stared at the floor.

According to a few posts on her social media, her best friend since high school died years ago, before Jessi quit working for that privileged douche bag in Boston.  Maybe she'd never had close friends since then. Until she met Mykaela, apparently.

How the heck did they become close friends?  Just because of that one-day modeling gig in New York? Everything about their friendship was still a mystery he had yet to dissect and comprehend.  He couldn't ask lots of specific questions when they first broached the subject.

Jessi would think he was prying too much, and then she might ask him why he was too eager to know more about her new friend.  "Do I still smell weird?" She leaned closer, tilting her head closer to his face.

The scent her scalp gave off was both  sweet and oily. Was it a definitive symptom of the viral infection? He couldn't say for sure, but he didn't want to scare her with his unproven hypotheses.  Especially not now that he wanted to take her to the nearest hospital.  "Just a bit," he muttered.

She pulled away and squinted at him.  "Why's your nose always so sensitive?"

He grinned. "It's called hyperosmia."

"It's a medical condition?" The pinkish skin around her eyes and nose scrunched up.

"Yeah. Genetic, as far as I know."

"Wait. Your nose has always been this sensitive since birth? Your mom or your dad had it, too?"

"Yeah. He did."

"Doesn't it bother you? I mean, with your job, you always have people around and..."

"I'm just used to it now."

She sat back and stared at him again, seemingly waiting for him to share more details.

The undivided attention made his heartbeat quicken.  But he couldn't look away, either.

Although her smiles often gave off innocent naiveté rather than melancholia, some days her eyes just looked so nostalgic and glassy.  Like now.  Her dreamy eyes told a lot of stories, as much as they showed vulnerability and how authentic she was.  Was she even aware of it?

"You have the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen," he commented, murmuring the words, hoping it would soften the blow.  "Sad but in a beautiful way," he wanted to add. But it might creep her out. He pressed his lips shut with his hand while she stared back at him, both of them barely moving.

"Yeah. My friends in school used to tell me the same thing." She snickered. "Then I started experimenting with makeup at home."

"Ah. The catalyst." He forced another smile.  "Wanna leave now?"

"Not really."

"Why?"

Jessi looked away and shrugged weakly. "I'm kinda dizzy."

"You feel sick?"

"No, but... Can we just sit down for a minute?"

"Yeah. Of course." He checked his phone. It was almost sunrise.  "Do you know you sleepwalk?"

"What?"

"Yeah. The other night."

She gawked at him and chuckled. "Shit. Why didn't you tell me?"

He hid a smile with his hand.  "It's fine. You didn't choke me in the middle of the night or anything."

"But you saw me? Sleepwalking?"

"Yeah. You were talking a lot. In the other room."  He crossed his legs and sat back, suppressing a laugh.  "I heard thuds on the door. So I opened it. Checked it out. You were just standing there. Like a zombie. Babbling something about... I dunno. I forgot."

"Oh no..." She laughed with him and scratched her head. "It's the cheese."

"Huh?"

"I ate some parmesan the other day, and you diced some goat cheese and put them in the salad."

"Oh. Yeah." He laughed when she tried to muffle another giggle. "Sorry. I didn't know."

"I was just standing there? For how long?"

"Not sure. Ten minutes, I guess?" He shrugged. "I guided you back to bed. Slowly. I tried not to wake you up."

"I honestly don't remember any of it," she sighed, mumbling her words with wide eyes as if astonished. "Wait. You just knew I was sleepwalking?"

"No.  Not at first. I checked if you were responsive. You couldn't hear me at all, but your eyes weren't really closed."

"Sorry." Jessi giggled again. "I kinda scared you, huh?"

"Not really. So, cheese triggers it?"

"And anxiety. Stress. Fast food, too, sometimes. 'Cause it messes with my gut bacteria."

"Right."

"It's hot in here." She heaved a sigh and hastily took off her sweater. "You think there's people downstairs already?"

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The whole floor remained silent as their footsteps echoed. Jenson kept up a straight face, his keys jangling below his belt.  He led her out of his office by himself. If they didn't leave now, some serious complications might require him to call 911.  "Hey. You sure you don't want me to call for an ambulance?"

"No. I don't need an ambulance," Jessi insisted.

The pain in her eyes and voice was starting to make him feel useless. But he should remain calm. Reasonable. She had no one else around to help her out.  "You can barely walk straight."

"I'm fine," she sighed, almost slurring the words. Every ten seconds or so, she would retch onto her sleeve with her eyes squeezed shut.  "Just a little dizzy." Her hand clutched his forearm now.

"Okay. Just hold onto me."  Jenson tried to ignore her tightening grip as they crossed the empty hallway leading to the elevators. "Almost there."

"Okay."

He looked around. The offices stayed dim, but he could still see the tiny pink spots all over her arm. Mostly because she stayed right beside him, just holding onto him for support.

Her face and chest sometimes turned pinkish under the sun, but usually her skin looked impressively perfect.  Spotless.  Except now.  The pink tint of her complexion obviously meant an inflammation underneath.  An infection spreading.

But he shouldn't freak her out. Calm and collected. He just needed to bring her somewhere safer. If the hospitals nearby weren't accepting non-urgent cases,  then he'd take her somewhere else with medical professionals that could provide proper medical attention in case her symptoms worsened.  "You okay? D'you need to go to the toilet?"

"No. I'm fine." Jessi kept her head down and coughed onto her face mask.

"Can you breathe properly?"

"Yeah. I'm good. Just... Shit. My head's spinning." She sighed and handed him her bag. "Please?"

"Sure." Jenson hung her bag's strap over his shoulder. He pressed the elevator button and led her inside once the silver doors opened.

"Ugh. Shit. Not again," she muttered when the elevator sank. Her thick brows wrinkled, like the faint crow's feet beside her eyes.  Her dark lashes fluttered on top of her rosy cheeks as she tried to tone down the gagging noises.

Must be the nausea. He leaned against the right side of the elevator, near the controls, standing still while she used his arm as a pillow.  He wanted to wrap his arms around her to make her feel safer, and keep her steady on her feet, but Jessi might pull away and feel even more uncomfortable.

For days on end, he'd tried his best to keep to himself.  To keep a certain distance.  Keep things professional.  But the more time they spent together,  the more it felt like a mental kind of self-flagellation.  "Be friendly—but not too friendly," was what he used to tell himself every time an opportunity to get to know someone interesting presented itself.

Being engaged to someone like Charm, and being stuck in a committed relationship had automatically set up emotional barriers around him.  Mostly because she was the jealous type.  But since the constraints no longer had a weighty reason to stay, his thoughts now often wrangled with what his common sense usually dictated.

"Joss..."

"What? What's wrong?"

"They're itching like a bitch now." Jessi groaned and snuck her arm around his.  Her dainty hand furiously scratched the rashes under her shirt until the elevator doors swung open.

"We're here."  Blocking the doors with his left arm, he stepped forward and looked around.

The lights were on, but the lobby seemed empty.  Quiet.  Not at all busy like he imagined.

"Wait. Are you gonna..."

"What? What's wrong?" Jenson leaned in when her hand gripped his wrist. "You need to go to the restroom?"

"No. Let's go."

He led Jessi out of the elevator with his arm around her upper back, keeping her on her feet. He might have to carry her in his arms if the nausea only worsened.  "Jess, you sure you can still walk?" He paused beside a thick marble column and combed her hair away from her face. "My pickup's in the right side of the parking lot."

"Yeah. I'm just..." Jessi moaned and pressed her forehead onto his chest. Her grip on his arm tightened again.

"What? What's the matter? You need to sit down for a sec?"

She gasped and started heaving again.

"Hey. Should I—"

"I-I'm gonna throw up."

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