Story Submitted by Steven:

In college, I met Andrea. We had a couple of lunches together in the campus center and I found myself liking her enough to ask her out on a date. She accepted, but when I called her to confirm on the day of, she picked up the phone and sounded awful.

She said, "I don't feel so hot. I think I might have rubella."

I asked, "Rubella? Do people still get that?"

She coughed into the phone and asked if we could reschedule. I told her that we could, and assured her that whatever she had likely wasn't rubella.

I called her the next day to check in, and she said that she was feeling a little better. We set up a time for our postponed date, a few days later, and I told her that I looked forward to it.

I didn't see her up until that day, and as I did before, I called her up to confirm. When she picked up, curiously, she didn't sound too good. Again.

"I think I have yellow fever. Seriously." she said.

I asked, "Are you having second thoughts about meeting up? I'd prefer that you tell me straight."

She gasped and asked, "Of course not! How can you ask that?"

"Are you usually ill with uncommon diseases? It just strikes me as strange."

"No! I promise. I think I really might have yellow fever. I checked the symptoms and am going to go to university health services."

I said, "Fine. Feel better. Why don't you call me to let me know how you're feeling and also to tell me when you want to meet up?"

"I will. Promise."

I didn't hear from her for almost a month, although I heard through the grapevine that she not only felt better, but that she was quite the party girl on weekends. I figured that she had obviously had second thoughts about meeting me, and so I didn't let it bother me much and tried to forget about her.

Then, a phone call arrived from her. "Hey," she said, "I was thinking that maybe we could meet up."

I didn't want to, by that point, as I had been turned off by her earlier dishonesty. I replied, "I can't. I have the black plague. Maybe some other time."

"Oh," she said, then hung up.

That night, my roommate came into my room, bearing a small gift basket. He said, "This arrived for you," and handed it to me.

The card on it was from Andrea. It read, "Feel better!" Inside the basket were about ten apples, each one half-eaten. I had no idea what she meant to say by that, but I never called her or spoke to her again, so I never found out.

Posted in: Stories,Written by a Guy