Don't Mess with the Girl with Candy novel Chapter 1480

Lorelei stared at him quietly, not quite grasping the full weight of his words.

"I don't snore, and I don't grind my teeth," Harold said, his voice dropping an octave. "The bed is huge. If we take half each, we shouldn't disturb one another."

Lorelei took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around the shopping bag, her heart doing somersaults in her chest.

Did this mean they were actually going to share a bed tonight?

"If it bothers you, I can take the floor," Harold offered, noticing her hesitation.

The floor?

Lorelei cast a glance at the ground. It was still storming outside, which meant the floor was cold and damp. He definitely couldn't sleep down there.

"Okay," she finally nodded after a few seconds of agonizing deliberation. "But I might..."

"?" Harold waited for her to finish.

"I might do some weird things," Lorelei admitted, rubbing her nose in acute embarrassment. "I talk in my sleep."

"Mm." Harold was amused by her adorable awkwardness. The corners of his lips twitched as he drawled, "As long as you don't try to murder me in the middle of the night, we're fine."

Lorelei's cheeks flared bright red, and she muttered under her breath, "I don't even know if I would."

After all, she had never had anyone sleep next to her to verify.

"The water is ready. Call me when you're done," Harold said, carrying Lorelei into the bathroom. "Do you need any help?"

"N-no!" Lorelei bit her bottom lip, shaking her head vigorously.

"Alright." Harold didn't go far, choosing to wait right outside the bathroom door.

The sound of splashing water echoed continuously from inside...

It left Harold feeling deeply unsettled, his thoughts spiraling out of control.

He had to go pour himself a glass of ice water just to suppress the inexplicable, rising heat in his chest.

When he returned, Lorelei's voice drifted out from the bathroom. "Dr. Houston, I'm done."

"Okay." Harold's nerves pulled taut. He steadied his breathing and pushed the door open.

She was obviously sweltering—her cheeks were flushed bright red, and her forehead was damp with sweat.

"Are you that cold?" Harold casually toweled his hair dry as he walked over to her side of the bed, pressing his palm against her forehead. "Lorelei, are you feeling sick?"

The AC was blasting warmth; there was no way she could still be cold.

"No," Lorelei shook her head, her voice slightly muffled. "I'm fine."

"If you're fine, then why is your face so red?" Harold cupped her cheek, noticing that her skin wasn't just burning up, she was also breaking out in a cold sweat.

"I'm taking you to the hospital," he declared, immediately reaching down to throw back the covers and scoop her up.

"N-no, you don't need to!" Lorelei panicked, clutching the duvet in a death grip, her face cycling rapidly between pale and crimson. "I'm completely fine, I don't need a hospital!"

Harold stared down at her. If she was fine, why was her voice shaking so badly?

She must be delirious from a fever!

"Be good!" Harold's tone softened significantly, but the strength in his hands didn't yield an inch.