The next time Jake awoke, he felt much better. He glanced at the clock on the DVD player and saw it was late, almost seven in the evening. He wasted another whole day, this time asleep, but at least that bear of a headache was gone. With a leonine yawn, he stretched and writhed on the couch until every muscle in his body felt alive, then pushed himself up to see what he might find for dinner.
Holly sat at the kitchen table in a pool of golden light cast from the recessed lamps above. A textbook was open in front of her, something she must have been reading for an English class. She had a highlighter in one hand and was chewing on the cap as she read. When Jake entered the kitchen, she glanced up at him and grimaced. “You look like shit.”
Self-consciously, he ran a hand down over his slee
