Constructing Us (New Adult Romance) Read Online Free Page B

eager to deny it. 
    “Uh-huh,” he muttered doubtfully.
    “Really,” she said sweetly, but now tr ying to suppress a grin.
    Tragan smiled at her.  “Look, whatever he told you…  Can we start from here?  I’m a nice guy.”  Why had he felt compelled to add that?
    “Of course,” Andy agreed easily, extending her hand. 
    As they shook hands, he felt instantly the soft warmth of her palm, her fingers, the gentle way she clasped his hand in hers.  When the contact broke, he started to leave.
    “Wait!” she called .  He turned back.  “I made lasagna before.  It’s still in the oven.  If you’re hungry, you’re welcome to have some.”
    His eyes lit up at that.  “ Lasagna, really?  So that’s the awesome smell?  I didn’t want to ask, but--um-- hell yeah I want some!”   
    She broke i nto a smile that was part laugh and waved toward the kitchen. “Help yourself.”
    “Thanks.”  As he walked into the kitchen, he commented, “Huh, so the stove does work.  That’s good to know.”
    “Um, how long have you lived here?” she called back.
    “ Two and a half years.”
    “Okay…”
    Grabbing a bowl from the cabinet, Tragan threw open the oven door.  As it screeched on its hinges, he heard Andy call out, “Oh, by the way, it’s probably still really hot.”
    C asually, Tragan called back, “Eh, I don’t care if I burn my mouth.”  He spooned a mass of lasagna into his bowl, snagged a water bottle from the fridge, and crossed to the other kitchen exit, the one near his room.  On his way, he started eating. “Damn, this is so good,” he muttered to himself as he shoveled in more, even though it was half-burning his tongue.  Something even possessed him to yell, “Andy--this is awesome!” as he headed to his room.

Chapter Six
    That night Andy lay awake staring at the window across the room.  From here she could just see the bottom curve of the street lamp behind their building.  For endless minutes, she looked into the hazy, orangey glow of the bulb, lost in thought. 
    Not good thoughts, of course.  Good thoughts rarely kept her up.  Anxious thoughts, worries, scary hypotheticals--those were like vampires, emerging at night.  Relax , she told herself, pulling her mind back from the cliff.  Reset .
    She’d never particularly been a worrier until she’d gotten sick at the beginning of her junior year of college.  What started as a bad headache spiraled into a debilitating kind of chaos.  Was it a “bug”?  Mono?  A heart defect that had gone undetected all the healthy years of her life?  No, to all those things.  After a month in and out of the university medical center and a couple of overnight hospital stays, she’d gotten better.  The headaches had stopped, the tiredness faded.  Her strange illness began to recede into the past. 
    Until she relapsed over Christmas break and ended up in the ER at St. Catherine’s Hospital in Brookline.  Though they stabilized her blood pressure, they couldn’t figure out why it had plummeted in the first place.  She insisted on going back to Chicago for her spring semester and by March, she felt like her old self again.
    It wasn’t until a full eight months later that it all began again.  This time her mother wanted her home, so she’d left school and taken the rest of the semester off. 
    And now here she was--after recovering again and finally finishing her degree, a semester late.  Admittedly she had suffered a brief turn this past Christmas, but she’d only felt ill a few weeks, not months.  She’d love to think of that as progress, but since her condition was such a medical mystery at this point, who knew what to think?
    If only doctors understood “Bronsteg Disorder” better.  If only it wasn’t so rare and uncharted.  When she allowed herself to reflect on the situation, she felt like a time-bomb--perfectly healthy, but for how long?  At what random moment would it change again?  And would this