Page 62 of Anger Banger

SEVENTEEN

MAREN

He reminds me every day for the next four days. By Saturday, my body is sore in the best way, and I still can’t get enough. Despite my reservations about dating, I’ve really been looking forward to Saturday night.

I’m showering to get ready for our date when he texts me.

Cooper:

I’m sorry, I’m not going to make it. I’m coming down with something.

Of all times for him to get sick.

Me:

What’s wrong?

Cooper:

Stomach flu, I think. Not a big deal, but I don’t want to spoil your trip if it’s contagious.

Me:

It’s okay. The catfish aren’t going anywhere. We can go when I get back. Can I bring you anything? Medicine? Sports drink?

Cooper:

I have everything I need. Just going to go to bed.

Me:

Okay, call me if you need anything. I’ll check on you in the morning.

Cooper:

You’re being awfully sweet to me.

Me:

Try not to shit yourself.

Cooper:

That’s more like it. Good night.

Me:

Good night. Feel better.

With my plans suddenly canceled, I decide to get packed and ready for our flight that leaves Monday morning at the ungodly hour of five a.m. I hope Cooper only has a twenty-four-hour bug or something. He’s going to have a tough time this week if he isn’t feeling well. I’ll check on him when I wake up. If he’s sick, there’s still time for me to rearrange or cancel some more of his obligations.

My evening is spent listening to a romance audiobook and cleaning the trailer, so it won’t be a mess when Pops and I get back. After another couple of hours of binge watching a new show, I head to bed early.

It turns out to be a good decision because my phone rings before dawn with a call from Cooper. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m sorry to wake you up, but I think I need the hospital. Can you take me?”

I’m already on my feet, pulling some clothes on. “Of course. What’s going on? Is it still your stomach?”