“What kind of soup do you want?” Macy asks as she settles me down into a bed whose sheets seem a lot smoother than when I climbed out of it. Which makes no sense, considering Macy has been across the room the whole time.

“Hey, did you fix this?”

“What?”

“My bed. It was a mess when I got out of it.”

“Oh, yeah. I, uh…” She moves her hand horizontally in a kind of smoothing motion.

“When?” I must be more out of it than I think. I didn’t even see her come over here.

“I did it when you were leaning against the wall. You had your eyes closed for a minute, and I didn’t want to disturb you while you were getting your bearings.”

Again, that doesn’t seem right. I was sure she came directly over to me once she realized I was standing. Then again, I’m the one who’s totally drugged while she’s the one who has all her faculties about her. Besides, what does it matter anyway? It’s not like my bed made itself.

“Well, I appreciate it,” I say as I pull back the covers over me. “So thanks.”

“No worries.” Still, she looks a little white as she reaches for the food tray. “I brought potato, chicken noodle, and corn chowder. I didn’t know what kind of soup you like.”

“Honestly, I’m hungry enough that I’ll eat anything. Pick what you want and give me whatever’s left.”

“Umm, no. You’re the sick one.”

“Exactly. I’m so drugged, it won’t matter. Besides, tomato soup is pretty much the only kind I really don’t like, so just give me something.”

In the end, she hands me the corn chowder and a bowl of canned fruit—peaches this time.

I end up scarfing down half the bowl in three minutes flat. Macy eats at a more sedate pace, taking a couple of bites and then asking, “Hey, why exactly were you in Jaxon’s room anyway? Last I heard, he was avoiding you.”

The last thing I want to do is tell Macy about how I was crying. I don’t want her to worry about me, and I definitely don’t want her thinking that she hasn’t been wonderful since I got here, because she has. “We were talking, and he offered to show me the meteor shower.”

“The meteor shower? That’s the best you’ve got?”

“It’s the truth. It was gorgeous. I’ve never seen one so bright before.”

She still looks skeptical. “And how exactly were you watching this meteor shower from inside his bedroom?”

“We were on the parapet outside his bedroom. We’d just crawled back through the window when the earthquake hit.”

“The earthquake.”

“Yeah, the earthquake. You know, that whole ground shaking thing that happened about five thirty this afternoon. It must have been an aftershock from this morning.”

“Oh, I know about the earthquake. We all felt it.”

“So why are you acting like I’m losing it?”

“I’m not. I was just thinking… I mean, it’s probably silly. But what exactly were you and Jaxon doing when the earthquake hit?”

I freeze at the question, my gaze fastening on the wall directly behind her ear. But it doesn’t really matter where I look, because I can feel my cheeks heating up.

“Oh my God. Were you—” Her voice drops. “Were you hooking up with him?”

“What? No! Of course not!” Pretty sure my cheeks just went from pink to bright red. “We were…”

“What?”

“Kissing. He was kissing me, okay?”

“That’s it? Just kissing?”

“Of course that’s it! I met the guy less than a week ago.”

“Yeah, but…it seems like it would have to be more than that.”

“What does? I mean, I’m not even sure he likes me.”

Macy starts to say something but must think better of it, because in the end, she just shakes her head and stares down into her soup like it’s suddenly the most interesting thing on the planet.

“Seriously?” I implore. “You don’t get to do that. I answered all your questions. You need to answer mine!”

“I know. It’s just—” She breaks off as a knock sounds at our door. Of course. “It’s probably my dad wanting to check on you again,” she says as she climbs to her feet. “He’s not very good at waiting on the sidelines, especially when someone he cares about is sick.”

I put what’s left of my soup on my nightstand and burrow down under my covers. “Will it offend you if I pretend to be asleep? I’m really not up for talking to anyone else right now.”

“Of course not. Fake sleep away. I’ll let him get a good look at you, and then I’ll kick him out.”

“Best. Roomie. Ever.”

I close my eyes and roll onto my side—face toward the wall—while Macy goes to answer the door. I can hear a deep murmur from whoever is on the other side of the doorway, but I can’t understand the words.

It must be Macy’s dad, though, because she answers, “She’s fine. She just had some soup, and now she’s sleeping.”

More murmuring from that deep voice and then Macy offering, “Do you want to come in and see for yourself? Nurse Marise gave her a lot of medicine. She’s still drugged to the gills.”

There’s a little more murmuring, not much. And then Macy closes the door.

“Coast clear,” she says, but her voice sounds a little off.

“Hey, I’m sorry if I made you feel like you had to lie to your dad. If you want to call him back—”

“It wasn’t my dad.”

“Oh. Who was it, then? Cam?”

“No.” She looks a little sick as she admits, “It was Jaxon.”

I spring up in bed for the third time tonight. “Jaxon? He was here? Why didn’t you let him in?” I throw back the covers and climb out of bed, searching the room for my Chucks, but they’re nowhere to be found.

“I did invite him in. He’s the one who declined.”

“Because you told him I was sleeping.” I give up on the shoe hunt and head for the door.

“Where are you going?” Macy squeaks.

“Where do you think?” I pull open the door. “After Jaxon.”

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