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has crazy eyes. Any guy in a fifty-foot radius could tell she is crazy as all hell. The kind that would light your clothes on fire for picking her up five minutes late," he answers, and my body immediately goes stiff.
    In other words, me.
    He must feel me tense because he gives me a strangely reassuring squeeze and changes the subject. It’s confusing, but I’m so appreciative that I don’t bother to question it.
    "Do you like sports?" He flips the TV to ESPN and I can’t help but laugh.
    "Um, no." I look up to find him watching me intently. His brown eyes render me unable to look away.
    "Good," he responds as his eyes flash to my mouth. "Then I’ll leave it on this channel." He whispers his lips across mine. Then he leans away to catch my eyes, seemingly to gauge my reaction to his advance, but I give him nothing. My expression is blank. It’s not a façade. I don’t know how I feel about it, but his eyes draw me in.
    However, a sharp pain in my stomach stops me in my tracks.
    "Oh my God! I’m going to puke!" I jump off the couch and sprint to the bathroom.
    "Well, that’s new." He follows me to the door, which I didn’t bother shutting in my race to the porcelain.
    I violently expel the contents of my stomach into the toilet, only vaguely aware that Leo is in the room. I would love to be embarrassed, but my stomach is knotting to the point where I’m not sure I will survive. Leo who?
    "I’m sorry," I manage to say between the heaves. I know he’s somewhere in the vicinity. He’s not touching me, but I can feel his presence.
    "Oh shit," he groans as I hear his footsteps stumble from the bathroom. Well, okay then.
    For what seems like seven years—maybe longer—I sit, dying on his bathroom floor. I have absolutely no grasp of time, nor can I move. I can’t even bring myself to be embarrassed that I’m puking in the lavish bathroom of a man I barely even know. All I know is that I need to start praying. I may not be a religious woman, but if I ever needed the Lord, it would be now.
    "Sarah!" I hear Leo’s gravelly voice shout from somewhere in the distance. But if he is expecting me to come to him, he might as well be in Antarctica.
    "Yeah," I barely squeak out with my head resting on the toilet seat. And just when I thought I couldn’t get any more desirable to a man, I’m hugging his toilet.
    "Are you okay?" he asks with concern filling his voice, but the sound of him throwing up rings through the air.
    "No," I answer honestly.
    "Me either," he responds before throwing up again.
    I’m assuming he’s in another bathroom down the hall, but another pain hits my stomach in epic proportions.
    "I think we have food poisoning," he growls.
    "I hate you," I say to my stomach, the toilet, and Leo all at exactly the same time, but none of them answer.
    Fifteen years later, I fall asleep with sweat covering my face and vomit lingering on my tongue. The cool tile floor is my only comfort.

    "SHH," I hear whispered as I’m lifted off the floor.
    My head falls back over his strong arm and my legs dangle loosely in his grasp. The devil himself could be carrying me to Hell and I wouldn’t care, but thankfully for me, it’s Leo’s voice in my ear.
    "I…" I try to fire off some random thought, but it only rouses me further from sleep, making me wish I could rush back to the bathroom.
    "Shh," he repeats, depositing me on a plush bed. "Bucket on the side," are his only real words as he settles beside me.
    I reach a hand over to become acquainted with the plastic rim of my new friend, the trash can, then drift off to sleep.

"EXPLAIN THE note, Leo!" Slate roars.
    "Get the fuck out of my apartment!" I shout right back at him while searching through my room for my phone and wallet.
    I have to get the fuck out of here.
    "Were you just going to leave that shit for her? Let her stumble upon it the day before we got married? Goddamn it, Leo. Fucking talk to me!" He steps up, preventing me from leaving the room. As the former