Ash fidgeted restlessly and looked at her phone for the thousandth time. Still nothing. She exhaled a deep breath and tried to push all the fear, desperation, and anxiety out of her with that one breath. It didn’t help.

It took Sam all day to get ready for his big date, so she’d spent the day at the hospital visiting Dad, Alice, and Judy—all the adults she considered family. She was there until the night shift nurse kicked her out. Everyone was stable, the nurse had said, and there was nothing Ash could do for them pacing the hospital’s halls. So she went home and paced in her room.

Judy getting sick had been bad enough. She was one of Ash’s oldest friends and one of the few remaining links she had to her mother. Then when Dad had his accident, Ash thought she had lost everything. Judy was one thing…but her dad was everything.

She didn’t know, hadn’t consciously understood, how important Alice was to her. They had a tight bond, but she hadn’t realized how deep it ran. When her father got sick, all she wanted was for Alice to hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay. And then she was gone, too.

Not gone, she reminded herself. She was wrung out. She’d cried so much over the last few days.

And now… Sam. Samael Fucking Dyer.

Her brain burned, and her stomach ached like she swallowed a brick.

Is this what jealousy feels like? She couldn’t remember ever being jealous. Well, she remembered when Lisa Herrington got boobs in the eighth grade and all the boys paid attention to her. Ash was definitely jealous then. But that was different.

There was a time, as kids, when she and Sam talked about getting married. In the same way they talked about being a prince, a knight, a princess, they talked about getting married and living together forever. Their parents even joked about how they were destined to be together. The girl Williams and Dyer boy, destined to unite their families in wedlock. But as time went on and they grew up, they stopped playing husband-and-wife. No romantic feelings ever sprouted.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Sam had girlfriends before. Nothing serious, of course, but Ash was never jealous of them. Even when he got the handjob from Rhonda Miller that summer, she hadn’t been jealous. The only thing she remembered thinking was: Rhonda Miller? Really?

Now, though… Now, she was wracked with…something. Jealousy? Anger? Sadness?

She pictured Sam and Veronica at dinner, laughing, making eyes at each other. Knowing Veronica, she’s probably giving him a blowjob under the table. Part of her wanted to scream. Another part of her wanted to vomit.

You have a boyfriend, for god’s sake! And Sam had been pining for Veronica for literally years. Who was Ash to stop him from being with her? Now, of all times, when so many people were in danger?

Even if people weren’t in danger, she and Randy had been dating for nearly a year. They’d made out in front of Sam. She had told Sam eeeeeeeverything. All the details of what they’d done with each other, to each other. To do that, to share those intimate details, and then have the gall to try to stop him now… Who did she think she was?

Even after the silent conversation with herself, she wanted to scream. Why did she feel so shitty?

When Sam texted her about the other people being sick, she knew she had to get his mind back on track. She typed up the text of suggestive emojis and would rather have chewed her arm off than send it.

When he texted that the date wasn’t going well, her stomach did flip-flops. It was equal parts, “Yay! He’s not going down on that slut!” and “God damn it, Dyer, you better take the hot dog bus to taco town!” Never had she been so conflicted.

“Text me, you fucker!” No matter how many times she screamed it at her phone, no texts came through. She needed to know what was going on. Knowing was better than wondering. That was what she told herself, at least. She squeezed the phone and shook it.

As if in response, the phone vibrated, causing her heart to lurch. But it was only an email. Growling, she threw the traitorous phone onto the bed. She didn’t want to see it anymore, but at the same time, she wanted to refresh the screen four times per second, waiting for—and dreading—the text that would let her know the curse was over.

Ash finally gave in and retrieved the treacherous device. Still no texts from Sam or Veronica. The knot in her stomach loosened. Slightly.

The next hour was possibly the most excruciating she’d ever lived through, and she used to be in the drama club.

Finally, after hours of pacing, trying not to pace, and thinking about pacing, she fell into a fitful sleep, her eyes wet and burning from staring at the small bright screen.

Yeah, that was why. The brightly lit screen.