I'd completely forgotten about that. With everything that had been going on recently, I'd been almost sleepwalking through my usual routines. My mind was constantly distracted by thoughts of cocky rock stars, doctors, and fighting parents.
"You okay?" Tracey asked. "You seem out of it."
"Just stuff on my mind," I told her.
"Is it that cute boy?" she asked in a fake whisper and a sly grin. "I saw you sitting with someone in the cafeteria a while back."
"He's just a friend," I said, not wanting to get into it.
"Is he the kind of friend you might also get naked with?" she asked.
I flushed, which was all the answer she needed.
"He looked like a good catch," she said with a nod. "Does he treat you right?"
"It's not like that," I said. "We're just…"
"Oh," her eyebrows raised. "An FWB thing? That's cool. No need to get serious when you're so young, right?"
Was that all Nathan and I were? Friends with benefits? Maybe at first. But now…
"Oh no," Tracey said dismayed. "What's with that sad look on your face? I'm sorry, should I not have brought it up?"
"I don't know what we are," I said.
"Do you know what you want to be?" she asked.
A smart question.
A question I didn't know the answer to.
"I'm sorry Tracey, I've got to go," I said. "I've actually got an appointment with one of the doctors here before my volunteer shift."
Her look of dismay turned to concern. "Are you okay?"
"Just a check up," I reassured her.
I made my way through the maze of hallways, long familiar with the layout of this hospital. I found myself standing in front of the door to room 306. I forced myself to take a calming breath in and out.
It would have been nice to have someone here with me. My mom and dad would have just made me anxious, and Tracey was nice but she tended to be high strung.
I wished Nathan was with me.
I could almost feel his comforting arm around my shoulder. Could hear his drawling voice in my ear, cracking jokes and making innuendos. It was almost impossible to be scared or worried when I was with Nathan.
I forced myself to open the door and step through. The receptionist smiled at me.
"Becca," she said warmly. "Here for your check up? Just take a seat, we'll get the machines ready."
I perched on the edge of a hard plastic chair. I crossed my legs, jiggling my toe. I didn't know why I was so nervous. This wasn't anything I hadn't been through before. The results would probably be the same as last time.
My heart condition was under control — for now. My prognosis looked good — for now.
It was those last two words that always stuck with me.
I wasn't going to drop dead at any minute.
For now.
