Fear makes you fragile darling/Hate is so heavy when you're weak/ Now we're both lost in anger/When we're alone we'll/Find some peace.

Dallie woke up a lot later than he was use to, probably because after Lola’s little announcement he ended up staying up an hour or two more trying to finish the next chapter of his book. Unfortunately he kept losing concentration and finally gave up at 3:30 in the morning.

He was moving towards the dining room when he heard the thumping. Which was, of course, coming from none other than Lola’s room. Dallie paused as another thing hit the door, and curiosity got the better of him so when he opened her bedroom door Nabokov’s Pale Fire hit him.

Lola settled back into her pillows, looking him up and down. “I suppose you’ll do.”

“Did someone deny you your pudding Princess?” Dallie asked as he began picking up the various books thrown and setting them back on her bookcase. What had he gotten himself into? “And is there a reason you decided to torture your poor books?”

She nodded, “I don’t feel so well.”

“That’s what you get for kissing girls,” Dallie said sitting beside her on the bed.

“Girl,” She corrected him, closing her eyes.

He sighed, deciding that it’d probably be quicker if he took her complaint seriously, so he pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. “Okay, you are warm.”

Lola opened her eyes, “That’s what I said. Have you ever known me to lie?”

Dallie smirked at her, “Constantly.”

Her lower lip went into a pout, “Maybe you won’t do.”

“Well I’m all you got darling,” he told her, standing up and reaching for the bell pull. “Tristan told me last night he had business meeting all through the day.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you did this to me,” Her arms crossed over her chest.

“Yes, sweetheart, I gave you a fever with great mind power,” Dallie replied, turning away from her, to ask the maid that had appeared for water and Tylenol.

She didn’t reply, just yawned.

When the maid returned with the requested items he took her jaw in hand and forced her mouth open before setting the pills in there and bringing the water to her lips. Her eyes opened wide and she began to sputter after she swallowed.

“What’d you do that for?”

Dallie’s expression was guileless. “I wasn’t sure if you still had an aversion to medicine.”

Lola glared, “You owe me for that, Dallas.”

He set the water aside, “All right, I’m yours for the day. What do you want me to do?”

She eyed him warily for a moment. “Read to me.”

The request caught him off guard, but then again she was sick and had a habit of acting strangely while vulnerable. “Read what?” Dallie perused some of the titles and authors he had just picked up when he had arrived. “Nabokov? Crane? Poe? V.C. Andrews? Salinger?”

He wasn’t sure if it was the fever or actual embarrassment that pinkened her cheeks. Knowing Lola like he did, he would have bet good money on the first. She crooked a finger at him and he did as he was told because by this time he was rather curious. She leaned up and whispered in his ear.

His eyebrow arched up by the time she finished. “Really, DuGrey? I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Lola waved him off with her hand, so he went to the bookcase, to the very bottom searching for the item she had requested. Dallie found it and returned to her side.

“Are you sure this isn’t too innocent for you?” Dallie asked as he slid into bed next to her.

“Shut up and read please,” Lola requested groggily, turning over to rest her head on his shoulder and throw her arm over his chest.

It took a moment for Dallie to remember how to breathe, so he took a deep breath and opened the book to Part One, Chapter One. He wrapped his free arm around her shoulders and cleared his throat.

“‘The year that Buttercup was born, the most beautiful woman in the world was a French scullery maid named Annette. Annette worked in Paris for the Duke and Duchess de Guiche, and it did not escape the Duke’s notice that someone extraordinary was polishing the pewter. The Duke’s notice did not escape the notice of the Duchess either, who was not very beautiful and not very rich, but plenty smart. The Duchess set about studying Annette and shortly found her adversary’s tragic flaw.

Chocolate.’”

Lola awoke with her eyes closed. She felt much better than she had when she had awoke this morning. Except for the lingering effects of the slight fever she had and the fact that her throat still kind of hurt like the devil, she felt better than she had ever felt before. Though Hartford had always felt like home, something had told her this was definitely home. No doubt about it.

That’s when memories began to return to her. Her eyes opened slowly and reluctantly until they were hit with the plaid pattern of Dallie’s flannel. Oh no.

There was no way in hell that she was going to look at him that way. No way in hell that anything resembling that was going to happen with Dallas Mariano of all people. She didn’t want him to be anything but her antagonist for the rest of her life. Nothing more, maybe something less.

But there would be no romantic entanglement with Dallas Mariano. Not a’tall.

Well maybe being nice to him wouldn’t do any harm. He had however nursed her when he probably had his own things to do. Besides being nice to him didn’t mean she’d fall in love with him. Lola had spent far too many years steeling her self from such a weak emotion as romantic love.

With that particular concern settled, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to be swept back to sleep by the melodic sound of his voice.

“‘He had written to her just before he sailed for America. The Queen’s Pride was his ship, and he loved her. (That was the way his sentences always went: It is raining today and I love you. My cold is better and I love you. Say hello to horse and I love you. Like that.)’”

Yes, nothing would actually change in her relationship with Dallie. Nothing could change that.