"So that was Val, huh?"

Blake and I are cuddling in his bed, our legs tangled beneath the sheets. I'm settled within the crook of his chest and shoulder, sighing contentedly as his fingers graze my skin.

"Yeah. She's pretty awesome."

"I can tell. I swear I wasn't eavesdropping—she's so loud, but I wouldn't say no to that threesome. Only if that's what you want, though."

Oh, so this could unfold into that kind of relationship. Not that I'd mind. Val is my best friend, my partner in crime and the only person I trust with my life. If she and Blake are open to that, I'm happy to explore it with them. But I also have to establish boundaries.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

I feel so shy bringing it up, but this is important. It's better to have a clear answer now than cross a line later because we didn't talk about this. I clear my throat. "Okay, so you and Val both mentioned the threesome thing, which I don't mind, but we would still be exclusive, right? I don't feel comfortable with open relationships."

Blake shifts so he's lying on his side facing me, propped on his elbow. His eyes are serious as he watches me. "We are definitely exclusive. I won't lie and say two women having sex doesn't turn me on, but I believe in fidelity. I will never cheat on you, and I won't hesitate to walk away if you're unfaithful."

His tone pierces my chest with anxiety. He's so serious. I'd never do that to someone, and though I know he's simply laying out his set of rules, I'm taken aback by how abrasive he is. It makes me wonder if someone has cheated on him.

"I don't sleep around," I say firmly. "You're the second person I've been with, and I don't plan on dropping my panties for everyone in sight. If Val ends up with us at any point, it's because we consented to it."

Blake's eyes soften as his hand cups my breast. He then plants a kiss on my forehead before moving to my mouth. "Good. I'd never compare you to anyone or suggest you're like that, but I needed to put it out there. My last girlfriend slept with a guy I worked with at my previous job."

Ouch, so it was true. "Well, I'm not her," I say reassuringly.

"Oh, I know," he says with a wide grin, sliding his hand lower. "The moment I saw you, I knew you were a good girl, but I also saw a woman dying to unleash her inner sex goddess. I'm kind of surprised you're okay with the idea of Val joining us."

"She's different," I say, trying to think of how best to articulate the nuances of our friendship. "She's always been there, and she'd cut someone and hide the body if they ever hurt me. I'm not sure how I identify—I like men, but Val is the one person I'd explore that side with. She was my first friend in college, she lifts me up, and she's seen the best and worst sides of me."

"Should I be worried?" he asks, still grinning as his finger stops just above my center. He's drawing small circles in my skin just above my sensitive area, sending tingles everywhere.

I move in to kiss him, taking a fistful of his hair and pulling hard enough to make him gasp. Then I thrust my hips into his groin, drawing a moan from his lips.

"No. I'm explaining who she is to me, though I'm probably doing a terrible job of it. I like you too, but I still need to get to know you."

"Fair enough," he rasps, suddenly swinging his leg and sitting over me. His hands and knees are on each side of me, and I can tell he's trying not to crush me with his weight. He buries his face into my neck, and I lean back into the bed. "Enough talk. More sex."

I giggle. He's so demanding and direct, but there's no denying how much it turns me on. I lean my head into the pillows and reach for his back with one hand and his ass into the other. Pulling him toward me, I fall into oblivion again as he sinks inside of me with one hard thrust.

I wake up the next morning with Blake's arm around me. We're spooning with my back against his chest and his leg between mine. One of the first things I notice is how much heat he generates. He's like a generator, producing more heat than the Phoenix sun on the hottest day in summer.

Scooting away, I tear off the sheet covering me and lie directly beneath the fan, desperate to cool off. When I roll over, I realize Blake hasn't moved and that he's shivering.

I gently shake his shoulder. He doesn't so much as stir, and I push harder. "Blake!"

His eyes flutter open, revealing blood shot irises against his pale, clammy skin. "Hm?"

"Are you feeling alright?" I ask, placing the back of my hand to his blazing forehead. "You're burning up."

He swallows hard, and when he speaks, I swear singing frogs sound better. "My body hurts. I think I definitely caught Covid."

Okay, he's young. He'll be alright with treatment and rest. The question is how to help, since I'm not sure what to do other than to keep him hydrated. "What should I do?"

He turns his head into the pillow and coughs loudly. Then he groans and wraps himself into the sheet. "Call the urgent care center or one of the pharmacies. See if they have tests available."

"Then what?"

"Not much they can do unless it's severe. I need to keep the fever down and drink lots of liquid."

That's doable. Thank goodness everything has moved to delivery. I can order everything I need through the pharmacy and have it delivered to the front door.

Reaching for my phone, I do as I'm instructed, and I manage to get an appointment for tomorrow afternoon. It's not ideal, but it's something. Luke he said, there isn't a lot I can do to help.

Climbing out of bed, I pull a clean shirt over my head and walk into the kitchen for water. I settle on giving him crackers until I can order food, and soon, I'm back on the bed with a plate in hand.

He's already asleep, and he's more resistant this time to waking when I call for him to wake up. He grumbles as if he's annoyed and in pain, and I'm tempted to let him sleep. Then I remember how much he's been sweating, how much water his body has lost, and I sigh. He can always sleep later.

I nudge his shoulder. "Come on, sleepyhead. You need to drink something."

"Go away."

I almost laugh at the edge in his voice. This man clearly isn't a morning person. Not that I blame him. If he poked me repeatedly as I slept, I'd be mad too.

This time, I'm not as gentle and my voice is firm. "Get up and drink this or I'll force it down your throat."

I cower almost instantly. This isn't me, and I want to blurt out apologies. My demands have the desired effect though, easing my worries as he pulls himself into a sitting position and rests against the headboard.

"You'd make a great dom," he mumbles with a lopsided smirk.

"I don't think this is the time for that," I splutter, averting my gaze. How he manages to make me blush even when he looks like hell is beyond me.

He draws a wheezing breath and coughs. "Oh man, I don't remember feeling like this yesterday."

"What are your symptoms?"

"It feels like a souped up version of the flu. My entire body aches."

From what I was able to find online, it's very much like the flu, with all the same symptoms. The biggest difference is the respiratory issues. They're more likely to linger long after the virus has run its course.

He coughs, this time doubling over as he hacks out half his lung. Drawing in deep, shuddering breaths, he manages to say, "Bring me my phone. I'm going to put in an order for medicine."

He doesn't look up to the task, but I give him the device anyway. After a few minutes, the order is placed and he drops the phone on to the mattress. "Someone from Door Dash will drop off an order in about an hour, depending on how soon the store can get everything together. If I start having trouble breathing or my lips turn blue, take me to the emergency room."

I nod, imagining the worst case scenario. It's morbid but I can't help myself. I'm sure Blake will be fine, but what if Dad catches the virus? He's not a healthy man, and I'm terrified of what would happen to him in this situation.

Forcing the thoughts away, I urge Blake to drink. He drains the glass before sliding down and curling into the fetal position. Within moments, he's asleep again.

Planting a kiss on the top of his head, I let him rest. There isn't much else I can do for him, and I need to wait for the drop off.

I exit the room and search for my laptop. Once it's set up, I start it and wait, making myself a cup of coffee. Perhaps this is a good time to work on my book, my project I temporarily abandoned after my rejection. I'd started that story about friendship, but I'm stuck on the second chapter. My existing work calls to me, begging for my attention and demanding that I don't give up.

The agent said she didn't find the main character appealing. I'd largely written her as a caricature of myself, so does this mean I'm unlikable too? And if so, what qualities do my heroine and I possess that make us repulsive? How do I fix her so she can make her debut?

Pulling up my character sheet, I peruse the list.

Name: Raven

Role in story: Heroine, Main Protagonist

Physical description: Average height, long dark hair, and light brown eyes.

Age: Late teens, early twenties

What is his/her greatest fear? That she won't see her father again.

What is her misbelief about the world? Raven was always told not to open the window. Her father warned her that there were others inhabiting their planet, and until she is taken in the middle of the night, she arrogantly believes humans are the only intelligent species on the newly terraformed world.

What is the best thing in her life? Her father.

What is the worst thing in her life? Not fitting in among her peers. More immediately, the unfamiliar surroundings she finds herself in, with no way to leave.

What does she most often look down on people for? Pride, material greed, and mankind's selfish nature that led to the near annihilation of their species.

What makes her heart feel alive? Seeing the new world and what it has to offer. The friendship she develops with Kordell, a member of the alien faction.

What makes her feel loved, and who was the last person to make them feel that way?
Her father and Kordell. She feels no love for her biological mother, who disappeared during Raven's formative years.

Top three things he/she values most in life?
1. Family
2. Knowledge
3. Loyalty

I skim over the rest. Those are smaller details that make Raven tick, and others that shaped who she is. What's important is how she interacts with others and what she does to survive. How she copes with secrets of her past and the history of her people is crucial to the overall story.

But it's more than that. I can't see myself changing Raven's character, and without proper feedback, I don't know what quirks to adjust, flaws to remove, or ways to make her sympathetic. Growing up without her mother isn't tragic enough?

I'm deep in thought when the doorbell rings, dragging me away from fantasy and planting me back in reality. When I retrieve the items Blake has ordered, I sit down again, asking myself what else I can do, both in my writing and my real life. Both of us are in a rut, trying to figure out who we are. The world is a big place, full of endless possibilities, yet we are held back by circumstance.

The text cursor blinks at me, and I stare at the screen, drawing a blank. I wonder if Raven needs a man in her life too, a companion for the sake of the story. It doesn't have to be romantic since friendship stories appeal to me more than cliche love triangles or alpha males. But what if that's something I have to consider? Am I willing to compromise the essence of my story?

I set the story aside for now, frustrated not only with my lack of progress, but also at the things I can't control. Like Raven, I want my happy ever after too, and I have to overcome my own set of obstacles to achieve it.

Part of me wonders in the happily ever after, or at least my happy for now, is in the next room. With the exception of the super flu, my arrangement with Blake is ideal and too good to be true.

But then, the snide voice in my head tells me otherwise. Life is not fair, nor is it filled with unrealistic happy outcomes. I'll find a way to scare him away, or he'll end up breaking my heart. I might pursue writing until I'm in a nursing home, stubbornly clinging to my lifelong dream because I can't bear to give it up.

My greatest fear is dying alone and with nothing to show for my labor.

My heart pounds inside my chest until it hurts to breathe. I'm overthinking again and self-destructing. If it wasn't for being forced to quarantine, I'd grab my things and flee to the safety of my room.

But I can't, and there is a sick man who needs my attention for the next several days.

Closing my laptop, I heat up a bowl of soup and bring it to his room. I also have medicine and Gatorade, which I set on the stand. I'm about to wake him when his phone buzzes and the screen lights up with an incoming call. I shouldn't look at it—the contents are totally none of my business, but the screenshot of another woman appears, not of his cousin from Instagram. When it goes to voicemail, a text message appears.

And because my curiosity gets the best of me, I pick up the phone and look at the content. 'Hey you. Ajay told me what happened. That sucks. Call me and let me know you're alright. I miss you. 😘🥰💞'

With trembling hands, I drop the phone. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for this, but none come to mind. I want to trust Blake, but I don't know him. All I can think about is that he played me and I was stupid enough to sleep with him. It feels like a sick game that he's crafted because he can, and I was an easy vulnerable target. Everything he told me about his last girlfriend suddenly feels like a lie, designed to play on my sympathies and emotion.

Hot tears blur my vision, and my fingernails dig into my palms. I want to scream and cry over being used, for being led to believe I'm desirable when I'm nothing more than an easy lay.

I can't storm out of his house, not when I have nowhere to go, but I don't have to share this room with him. There's a spare he promised, and I fully intend to use it. When my quarantine is over, I'm going home, where I will set aside my fantasies and focus on the things that matter: my dad and my writing.

Blake is a cautionary tale. If I choose to think of him, it will be as a reminder not to be spontaneous and to harden my heart when the world inevitably lets me down.