With every thrust, my nipples rub against his chest, my clit grinds against the heel of his hand, and the nostalgic haze floods me.
It’s just like it used to be. Or is it even better?
I descend further into pleasure. Into pain. Into reliving the past.
Even as I collapse beneath him, even as I shudder at the sound ofhis low moan, I can’t help thinking that we need to stop this, soon, before it becomes a habit.
20
NINA
Irecognize that face. A sickening feeling surges in my stomach as I look over at the reception area — where Art is being rolled into the hospital on a stretcher.
One week of not calling him back, and he gets himself admitted to the hospital.
Lily was right that my first, immature instinct was to avoid Art. Even though I know it’s the response of a teenager who’s scared of big emotions, that’s exactly how Art makes me feel. Everything between us is too sharp and real for me to handle and I want to hide away from it.
Still, I didn’t thinkthiswas how I would break the no-contact I’ve been attempting.
“What the fuck,” I breathe as he grins up at me from the stretcher. Like it’s just another day and he doesn’t have a bullet lodged in hisshoulder.
“Got shot right outside the hospital,” says the duty nurse. “The receptionist saw and had him brought in.”
I resist the urge to put my face in my hands and instead focus on Art. His shoulder is bleeding pretty badly, so I have to keep the pressure on the bandage the paramedics have applied while we transfer him to a bed.
“You got shot, right outside my hospital?”
I can’t keep the skepticism out of my voice.
“Good thing you’re a doctor.” His cocky smirk transforms immediately into a wince as I test the injury site. “And I think you’ll find it’s my hospital.”
He looked so proud of himself there that I almost thought…
“Art,” I hiss in a low voice, when the nurse has left the room. “Tell me you didn’t get shot during my shift just so I would have to treat you.”
The pain medication is kicking in, and he gives me a slow smile that makes my heart kick. “Only a crazy man would do that. A really crazy man.” His voice gets slow and slurred as the meds pull him under.
“Oh my fucking God. You did, didn’t you? Is this because I haven’t been answering your calls?”
It’s been a week since I picked up the phone, needing time to process what’s happened, and I’ve been avoiding him as much as I can in the hospital as well.
“Huh, does that mean I’m crazy? Can you treat crazy?” he grasps my hand for a second right before he loses consciousness.
“Unbelievable.”
I don’t know whether to be outraged, impressed, or terrified as I sit there, bandaging Art’s shoulder so that he’ll stop losing blood. He’s not going to die, but his shoulder will take months to recover.
“What’s up?” Daniel appears at the door for our shift change and I’ve never been so relieved to see him.
I gladly pass the job on to him. Art will have to be prepared for surgery to get the bullet out of his shoulder, but it was a remarkably clean wound.
“This guy is the owner of the hospital,” I tell Daniel as I power-walk out of the room, clapping him on the shoulder. “No pressure.”
Curiosity is what pulls me back the next morning. I’m doing my usual rounds when I enter Art’s room, shutting the door behind me.
I bend over him to check his shoulder, when suddenly, his eyes open. Art’s hand is on the back of my head, pulling me down towards him, before I know what’s happening.
He kisses me drowsily and, fuck, this breaks every workplace ethical code, but I kiss him back. He’s so unlike himself right now, so open and vulnerable and needy, that I can taste the sweetness of every part of him. Not just the polished façade he presents to the world.
