Free These Starcrossed Lives of Ours by Megan Linski

whistle a tune.
    I felt sick. Stumbling to the door I practically ran up the steps to our apartment, locking myself in the bathroom and trying to breathe.
    “Christie? Christie, are you okay?” Ian asked in worry through the door.
    I didn’t answer him.
    The rest of the night passed rather awkwardly, with Ian looking more and more guilty and me getting more and more pissed off at him. Why couldn’t he just let it go? It wasn’t like the carriage thing or me being sick was a huge deal. When we hadn’t said a word to each other for about two hours before Ian broke the silence.
    “I’m sorry for the way I acted today, Christie,” he said, trying to look me in the eyes and me totally ignoring him. “It’s just...I haven’t had a girlfriend in a long time, and I got carried away.”
    “Em hm.” I wasn’t interested in Ian’s relationship issues. I had enough of my own.
    “No. You need to listen.” He came to sit beside me on the couch. “I want to treat you with respect, and I didn’t this afternoon.”
    “People have treated me much worse Ian, what you did was nothing more than a bat of an eyelash to my dignity,” I replied. For crying out loud, this guy made a big deal out of everything.
    “You don’t understand. You deserve the best treatment, not the worst. You’re really special,” (he ignored my sarcastic snort) “And I have to treat you like it.”
    “Ian...”
    “I really am sorry, Christie. I could tell you didn’t like me flirting with you, but I tried anyway.” He looked down, ashamed. “It’s just that I get really happy this time of year, with the spirit of giving going around and all. There’s so much love in the air and I thought...”
    “It’s fine Ian, I already told you.”
    “No, it’s not. It doesn’t excuse my behavior.”
    “You were just flirting. It’s not like you were being serious, so let it drop.”
    Ian got up, slowly walking to his bedroom. He reminded me of a lost puppy. “Okay.”
    After that little spat, things went back to normal. The following week was Thanksgiving, and Ian intended to drag me along to his parents place for dinner.
    “I’m not part of the family,” I said. “I’ll just stay here and wait for you to get back.”
    “I’d be a terrible host, and nobody should spend the holidays alone,” Ian demanded.
    Why not? Annabelle left me alone on Thanksgiving last year, I thought sourly, remembering when she had left me to wait on a park bench and never came back. I had sat there until the next morning before finally giving up and heading back to the house. “I don’t want to be a burden,” I said.             
    “Nonsense. My mother loves guests, and the rest of the family lives down in Florida. She’d appreciate you coming. They did help save your life, you know.”
    He didn’t need to remind me. I felt slightly guilty that I hadn’t yet met the people who had helped bring me back from the dead, but at the same time I didn’t want them to be horribly disappointed when they saw how unsuccessful I was. I was doubtful, but I let him talk me into it. My fears and butterflies over impressing Ian’s parents were made to be obsolete, however, when I unexpectedly woke up with the flu Thanksgiving Day.
    “You have to go and see them,” I said, feeling like I was going to cough up a lung or set the couch on fire with my fever, unsure of which would happen first.
    “No,” Ian said, coming to my side. “I called and my parents understand. They want me to stay here and take care of you. Thanksgiving can wait another year. I’ll go visit once you’re better. You can come for Christmas instead.”
    That gave me at least another month to prepare and worry. “Will you at least stop by? Just for a minute,” I begged. I didn’t want to be the girl who kept someone’s son away from them on the holidays. I already had the odds stacked against me.
    He chuckled. “Only if you agree to go see a doctor.”
    I shook my head. “No