Free Tris & Izzie by Mette Ivie Harrison Page B

my feelings for him were, and right now they were getting in the way.
    â€œYou had this terrible fever for the first two days. They gave you every antibiotic they could think of, but it didn’t seem to be doing anything. And then, suddenly, it just started to go down on its own, and now you’re awake.” Mark patted my hand. Then his hand drifted up to my neck. Then he was kissing me, lightly, on my eyelids and my cheeks and my nose and my chin. Not on my lips, though.
    I was kind of glad about that. He was treating me like I was a china doll, so I was able to avoid a full kiss.
    I guessed the love philtre hadn’t worn off yet after all.
    â€œHow is Tristan?” I asked. “Do you know?”
    â€œOh. Yeah. I think I heard your mother say that he was out of danger. They thought he was going to die the first couple of days he was here. No one knew what was going on with him, but he had multiple-organ failure. Then somehow he just came out of it, about the time your fever went away. They’re saying it’s a miracle. They were afraid surgery would cause too much trauma, but his wounds seem to be healing just fine now.”
    I wondered what had happened to his sword. Had he hidden it somewhere, or was it still out there, in the school parking lot? Would people think it was strange and start asking questions, start guessing that magic was involved?
    â€œCan I see him?” I asked.
    â€œUm, Izzie, you just woke up. I sort of want you to myself for a while. Is that too selfish of me?”
    There were probably hundreds of girls who would kill to have Mark as their boyfriend, to have him standing over their bedside in the hospital, giving them butterfly kisses. But I wanted to see Tristan. That was all I could focus on.
    â€œHe saved me, Mark, and he almost died. I feel like I need to say thank you.” Would Mark buy that? I didn’t feel like making up an elaborate story. I knew that at some point I would have to tell him the truth, or at least a part of the truth. If the love philtre couldn’t be counteracted and it didn’t wear off, I might even have to break up with him. But not right now.
    â€œMaybe you could send him a note?” Mark suggested.
    I grimaced in frustration. “Mark, I need to tell him in person. Will you go and see if he can have visitors?”
    â€œNow?” asked Mark.
    â€œYes, please. I can’t rest until I see him. You should thank him, too, you know. How would you feel if he hadn’t been there for me?”
    Mark shuddered and reached for my hand again. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said. He moved aside and then I saw what was behind him. It was the most amazing floral display I had ever seen. Mark’s fitting into the room next to all those vases was quite the engineering feat. They were on a couple of tables, on the floor, on the windowsill, and even on the shelves in the open closet. There were red and yellow and white roses, and tulips and orchids and daffodils, and daisies, and just about everything else you could imagine.
    â€œWhat are all those?” I asked.
    â€œOh, they came while you were sick. They’re from friends and teachers. The principal. The football team. The basketball team.” Mark waved at one vase after another. I was guessing that he had something to do with the teams’ sending flowers, but there were still about ten left.
    â€œAnd the rest?”
    He smiled at me like a little kid. “They’re mine,” he said.
    â€œAll of them?” It seemed a bit much.
    â€œWhenever I was afraid you were going to die, or if your mom made me leave the room while they did some treatment, I called up and ordered another one. I didn’t want to keep ordering the same thing, because you’d be bored with that. Also, I wasn’t sure what was your favorite. So I thought if I got all of them, you’d be happy.”
    â€œI’m happy, Mark,” I said. I was trying to