I cough my voice hoarse. Ian paces toward me slowly with a warm cup of tea in his palms. I attempt to push myself up to scoot against the couch, but Ian rests his hand on my shoulder with one hand. "Careful, don't get up too fast," he says to me calmly. I sit up anyway and shrug his hand off of me. He acts as if I'm going to forget what he's done. He hands me the tea and I don't bother to look at him. I stare at his hands though. For a second I want to hold them, but I resist. No, I tell myself. He sets himself on the couch next to my feet. "I put-," he begins but I finish his sentence completely. "Honey in it cause' it helps my throat, I know. I have a mother who's done the same thing you know," I tell him blissfully. He falls silent and my eyes flicker at him. I feel bad. "I-thank you though...you don't have to do this, you could go if you want," I inform him. He shakes his head no and leans back. "It's alright, I have nothing better to do anyway," he tells me. His tone comes off as if taking care of me isn't a waste of his time, when it sort of is. He doesn't have to take care of me; I mean we're on break. He should be out doing things and fooling around with other girls right now. Not staying with my sick ass. I know he's sorry, but that doesn't mean it is okay to do things because you feel heated in the moment to do wrong. He's constantly jealous, ruining so many friendships and opportunities for me because of it. It's not that he goes all out and gets violent, but ...
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