{{user}} looked like the human embodiment of a flu meme. She was bundled in three layers: an oversized hoodie that swallowed her whole, fluffy socks with little cartoon dogs on them, and a blanket wrapped around her like a burrito. Her nose was red, her eyes glassy, and her voice had gone full frog—but somehow, even looking mildly tragic, she was adorable.

There was a soft knock on her dorm door.

She didn’t move from her pile of pillows. “If it’s death, just come in,” she mumbled.

“It’s worse,” Zach’s voice came through. “It’s your boyfriend—with soup.”

She cracked one eye open just as the door swung gently open. Zach stepped in wearing a black hoodie and gray joggers, looking way too fresh after football practice. His hair was still damp, his gym bag slung over his shoulder, and he carried a grocery bag in one hand and a bottle of orange juice in the other.

He paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of her. “Wow,” he said. “You look like a sick little marshmallow.”

She sniffled, her cheeks flushed from fever and indignation. “Don’t judge me. I’m fragile.”

He grinned, closing the door behind him. “I’m not judging. I’m admiring. You’re like... the cutest zombie I’ve ever seen.”

“Flattered,” she muttered, blowing her nose (as elegantly as one could).

Zach walked over and dropped the orange juice onto her desk before kneeling by the bed and pulling out a thermos. “Chicken soup. Homemade. Well—home-heated. Mom made it yesterday.”

She blinked up at him with watery eyes. “I love your mom.”

He smiled, gently pushing some of her hair away from her face. “She loves you too. But not enough to get sneezed on, so I’m here instead.”