My head spun, a dull ache throbbing behind my eyes. "No," I croaked, the word barely a whisper, an admission of defeat. I felt anything but good. My body was wrung out, weak and trembling. Aria's hand on my back was a lifeline, grounding me. She didn't push, just kept rubbing, those soothing circles a silent comfort.
Eventually, I gained enough strength to flush, then slowly, carefully, pushed myself back, leaning against the cool tiles of the wall. I looked up at Aria, her face a mask of gentle concern.
"Probably food poisoning," I muttered, rinsing my mouth at the sink. My reflection looked pale, my eyes too wide. "Or maybe I'm just exhausted. It's nothing. Probably a stomach bug."
Aria leaned her shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Uh-huh. Nothing. That's why you look like you nearly fainted when you entered the kitchen, and now you're puking up dinner like a freshman on tequila night."
"It's not like it's been happening all day," I muttered.
