Chapter Thirty-Five: Finals and Fever
(Ria's POV)
The alarm buzzed like a warning siren. Finals day. The apartment was quiet except for the faint hum of the heater and the occasional creak of the old floorboards.
I swung my legs off the bed and froze. My head felt heavy, my stomach was queasy, and my chest… tight. Not now, please. I can't get sick today.
I groaned and grabbed my phone.
Miles 👀: Good morning, Threads. You up?
Me: Barely. I feel… not great.
Miles 👀: Shit. Finals today, right? Take it easy. Don't overdo it.
Me: I can't. Exams.
Miles 👀: I know. Just… drink water. Eat something. You'll crush it. And text me if you need me.
I smiled, even though my cheeks were pale. I know. Thanks.
Downstairs, Maya was already sipping coffee, hair in a messy bun, textbooks stacked high on the table. "Ria! You look like you slept on a pile of bricks."
"I feel like I slept on a pile of bricks," I admitted, clutching my stomach.
"Ew, gross," Emma said, popping up from behind her own notes. "You're gross. Finals are hard enough without looking like a zombie."
"Shut up, Emma," I muttered, smiling despite myself.
Lia appeared in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed. "Ria, I don't even want to hear it. Finals today, you survive, you don't, you owe me twenty push-ups. And coffee. Two."
"Yes, ma'am," I said, downing the lukewarm coffee Maya handed me.
School felt heavier than usual. My head throbbed as I dragged myself between classes, books digging into my sides. My stomach kept fluttering nervously, my chest tight. Every so often, my phone buzzed.
Miles 👀: Lunch? Eat something. I'll be thinking about you.
Me: I will… maybe.
Miles 👀: Maybe isn't enough. I said eat. Or I'll get Emma and Maya to force-feed you.
I groaned and rolled my eyes. Fine. I'll eat.
Even through all the chaos of finals, the notes, the fluorescent lighting, the stress, I couldn't stop thinking about him. About last night, the private after-party, the kiss, the way he'd called me Threads, the way his fingers had brushed mine.
And every buzz of my phone — every "Threads, you got this" from him — made my stomach twist in that familiar, dangerous way.
By the time lunch rolled around, I was clutching my bag and swaying a little. Maya noticed immediately.
"You look awful," she said, guiding me to a quiet bench outside. "Sit. Eat. Stop pretending you're invincible."
I sat, gratefully, trying to steady my breath. "I'm fine. Just… dizzy."
Miles's text buzzed again.
Miles 👀: Threads? Everything okay? You're texting weirdly.
Me: I'm fine. Dizzy. Finals.
Miles 👀: Okay. But check in with me after your last exam. Promise?
Me: Promise.
I sighed, looking at my friends. They tried to distract me, whispering jokes, sharing snacks, teasing, and fussing over me in that familiar way. But the weight of the day, the exams, and last night's kiss clung to me, a quiet storm under my ribs.
Even though Miles wasn't there in person, I felt him everywhere — in my heart, in my thoughts, in the little texts that made me smile and groan at the same time.
By the time I walked back to class for the last exam, I realized one thing:
No matter how stressed, sick, or dizzy I felt, no one else could make me feel both grounded and wildly out of control at the same time… except him.