I always thought my apartment in Seattle was an okay size if not a bit on the small size. But now, with all my possessions on the way to California, the place had never seemed so huge. I feel like if I were to say something, my words would echo through the rooms.

I don’t even know how I managed to get all my things packed up in six days. I came home from LA on Sunday and immediately started the task. Hannah had been a huge help. Whenever she wasn’t in class, she was over, helping me sort through my things and get everything ready to go. And then, in true best friend form, she had arranged for a big farewell party last night at her place that had gone until well into the early morning. I’m still recovering from it and the thought of the drive to LA that awaited me was not appealing. But it had been worth it to have the night with my friends.

I’m trying to not concentrate too much on the fact that I’m leaving all my friends and everything that is familiar behind. I think if I do that, I might have a slight panic attack. California isn’t completely unfamiliar to me since my mom lives in San Francisco and I’ve gone down there to visit her a few times over the years. But that’s different from LA and neither place is Seattle and Seattle is what I’m used to.

“I’m really going to miss you.”

Those are an awful set of words. I turn to my left to see Hannah standing beside me and sigh. “I’m going to miss you too. I still can’t believe I’m leaving.”

“I know.” She puts her arm around my shoulders and squeezes me. “But you’re going to do so good in LA.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so.”

“You’re going to come visit me, right?”

Lifting her hand from my shoulder, she hits me in the head lightly. “Don’t be a turd. Of course I’m going to come visit you. You know how much I love road trips.”

I smile. “I’m going to try and come back a lot and see you guys.”

“You say that now but you’re going to be so busy down there that I bet you won’t have any extra time.”

“I’ll find time.”

“Are you going to get together with Justin once you get down there?”

Justin. The fact that I know he’s in LA is making this move a little bit easier. I don’t exactly know the status of our relationship but being around him is a breath of fresh air. If it wasn’t for my three week rule, I would have made out with him all night long on Saturday. Damn that three week rule.

“That’s the plan. He says he’ll help me unpack.”

“A man who is willing to do some physical labor for you,” Hannah sighs. “Better scoop up that hot commodity.”

When I had gotten back from my weekend in LA, I had told Hannah all about my night with Justin. I played it off a little bit though and I don’t think she gets that I’m a little bit into him. She keeps joking about me and him being together and I’ve been joking along with her. I figure that if something actually happens in the next couple weeks I’ll get to shock her with it and that’ll be a fun time.

“I just might,” I say, two thirds joking and one third a little bit serious. Who am I kidding? He’s hot and charming and funny. You can only go downhill from there.

“We shouldn’t have kept you out so late last night. You look tired.”

“I’m not that tired. I have a headache though.” I run my hands through my hair. “I just feel kind of gross.”

“You’ll have to hit up all the Starbucks on the way to LA.”

I smile. “Obviously. What do you take me for, Hannah?”

Laughing, she bumps her shoulder against mine. Her laughter slowly fades out and then we’re left in silence. It was a nice, comfortable silence but I had to eventually break it.

“I need to go.”

“Yeah. You have a full day of driving. How far are you going to go today?”

“As far as I can,” I say as I grab my purse from where it sat by the door.

I kept the radio off as I drove away from the apartment. I hate leaving Hannah and all my friends and everything that I’m comfortable with. I know it’s for the best but that just doesn’t make it any easier. And this pounding headache is doing nothing to motivate me to do this two day drive to LA. At this point I’m wishing I had just taken a flight there and gotten my car shipped but it’s too late to do that now.

I got my coffee from a Starbucks on the outskirts of the city and sipped my latte as I watched Seattle disappear in my rearview mirror. It was only after I was outside Seattle and on a long stretch of highway that I turned on the radio and put my cruise control on, settling in for the next thousand miles.

* * *

My toilet works. After throwing up in it five, yes five, times since I got here at eleven this morning, I can definitely say that it has good water pressure and the self cleaner in it works just great. Of course, it’s hard to really appreciate those things when you feel like you’re dying.

Sometime after leaving Seattle, my headache turned into more of a body ache and I started getting chills. By time I stopped at a hotel at ten that night, I felt like shit but figured it was from driving all day. I’m not quite sure how I managed to make it the remaining four hours this morning feeling as bad as I did. I felt worse and worse every single minute in the car. Thankfully, the nausea didn’t start until I had arrived at my house and was near a toilet. Small favors.

I reach up my hand to flush the toilet and stay slumped on the tile floor as the water swirls down the bowl. This is worse case scenario right now. I’m sure this is just some horrible case of the stomach flu but I don’t even have a doctor here to go to and make sure. And there’s no way I’m going to sit in the ER for ten hours just to see a doctor.

Staying on the floor by the toilet seemed partly appealing just to save me later trips to the bathroom but I was so cold and I knew I’d be more comfortable in my bed even though I was working with just the bare mattress and a blanket I had found in the first box I opened. I’d probably feel a whole lot less rotten if I just had my bed made up but there was no way in hell that I was going to search through the boxes littering my room for all my linens. Not while I’m feeling like this.

I crawl back into bed and just lay there thinking of how incredibly horrible this is. I’m supposed to be at the store in two days getting everything ready and at this point, I can’t see myself ever feeling well enough to get out of bed. I couldn’t have gotten sick at a worse time.

I don’t even know why I thought it would be a good idea to answer my cell phone when it started vibrating from the pocket of my hoodie. If I had been smart, I would have just let it go to voicemail and stayed wallowing in my own misery. But something inside me made me pull it out and press it to my ear.

“Hello?” Ugh, I sound horrible.

“Cassie?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s Justin. Are you in LA?”

“Mm hmm.”

“Are you alright? You don’t sound great.”

I shut my eyes and press the side of my face into my pillow. A wave of nausea rolls through me and I take a few deep breaths, willing the contents of my stomach to stay inside.

“Cassie? You alright?”

“I’m a bit sick.”

“With what?”

“Stomach flu I think.”

“Oh that sucks. Have you gone to the doctor?”

“I don’t have a doctor down here.”

“You sound horrible.” He pauses. “How about I come over? You shouldn’t be all alone.”

The last thing I want is for anyone to see me like this. “I’ll be okay.”

“You sound horrible,” he repeats. “It wouldn’t be right if I just left you there all alone if you’re really sick. I can come over and take you to a doctor.”

His sympathetic voice was causing feelings of self pity to rise in me. I try to push it aside. “I don’t want to go to the doctor.”

“If you’re not going to go to the doctor than I should come over. I’ll feel a lot better if I know you’re not just sitting there alone.”

I swallow, cringing at the bad taste in my mouth. “You really don’t have to, Justin.”

“It’s not problem. I’m going to leave right now. I’ll be over in fifteen minutes, okay?”

He hardly gives me a chance to agree before hanging up. A groan escapes my mouth as I drop the phone on the mattress beside my head. I’d rather just be here alone and ride this out but I couldn’t stand being on the phone arguing with him anymore. It was taking too much strength.

If I could just fall asleep it would make things so much easier. But the nausea and headache were preventing me from that saving grace. It’s pure torture to just lay here feeling like this and not be able to do anything about it. I never get sick and I’ve forgotten just how bad it can be. What did I do to deserve this?

After twenty minutes passes and I begin to think that maybe he had changed his mind about coming over here. Why would he want to be around someone who’s sick anyways? It’s not like he’s my husband or anything and it’s his duty to nurse me back to health. He had absolutely no obligation to me so why would he even bother coming over?

I was actually starting to believe that when my doorbell rang. I open my eyes and blink a few times to clear them as the ring echoed through the house. I don’t want to get up at all. The idea of moving seems torturous. But I can’t just leave Justin standing outside either.

With a cringe and a small moan, I pull myself into a sitting position and rest there for a minute, taking a few deep breaths to calm my stomach. Praying that I won’t throw up again, I stand and carefully make my way to the stairs.

Changing altitude when you’re nauseous, even if it’s even going down some stairs, has got to be one of the worst things. By time I reach the last step, I have to stop and take a few more deep breaths, dropping my chin down to my chest. I would have stayed like that for a few minutes but the doorbell rings again and I have to answer it. It takes me another minute to get to the front door and in that time, he’s already knocked on the door. He’s a bit impatient.

“You had me worried. You weren’t answering,” he says the moment I have the door opened.

“Sorry,” I say softly and step back so he can come in. “But really, you shouldn’t have come all the way over here.”

He takes off his shoes and shuts the door before his eyes rise to me and he really examines me. “Wow, you really are sick. You weren’t kidding.”

If I had more strength, I’d roll my eyes. Why would I kid about being sick? “No.” Feelings of nausea go through me again, this time more intense, and I shut my eyes briefly. “I need to go lay down.”

“Of course.”

I turn to go back upstairs but that movement is too much for my stomach to take and before I can do anything, vomit is rising in my throat. Lucky for me, there’s a bathroom off of the front hallway and I manage to get there just in time. I’m crouched on the floor, gagging into the toilet when I hear Justin come into the room. He squats down beside me, his knee brushing against my back and his hands gather my hair and pull it back from my face.

I feel horrible and sick and now I’m also completely embarrassed. I don’t like throwing up in front of my own mother, let alone a guy I have a crush on. Throwing up is disgusting and gross and he’s here watching it.

I changed my mind. Being sick in LA wasn’t the worst case scenario. Being sick in LA and Justin seeing me at my worst? This has officially become the worst case scenario.