“Ay!”
I jerk my arm out of Massimo’s touch. Mad and offended despite his brother saying as much when he blocked the door. But coming from my patient, I don’t know. Makes it uncomfortable. The constant hitting on me, I can take and throw it back at him. The other stuff hits differently depending on my mood.
“Shut up, Em!”
Massimo moves to follow me as I head to the door. His brother is actually silent for once.
“Sofia, he’s an idiot. You’ve got to know that, but he means well. He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body.”
I reach the door. Coffee in hand. Debating on walking away from some fantastic food at the expense of my sanity.
“But we just want to spend time with you. I brought all that for you. If you want to take it and leave. That’s fine. But I’m serious about the other stuff. I want to know you, see you, and yeah, we want to fuck you. Can you blame us? I mean, look at you.”
I see my reflection in the narrow window in the door. My hair is everywhere. The bit of makeup I started the shift with is long gone, and I’ve sweated all day through my scrubs. I’m looking at myself, and I don’t see what they see.
His hand is back, this time on my shoulder. Rubbing gently, as if working the knots out. My eyes beg to close from how good it feels. I stifle a groan and glance over my shoulder at him.
“It’s against hospital policy to eat with patients in their rooms.”
Without missing a beat, he sprints back to the bag and packs it all up. Blurts out an apology to his brother, who flips him off and cusses him out while hustling us out the door.
“Where can you eat this? The cafeteria? Or the lob?—”
“There’s a park, toward the back of the hospital, that I sometimes go sit in.”
He smiles, his hand on the small of my back.
“Perfect, lead the way.”
He doesn’t say anything more. I walk slightly ahead. His hand grazes my ass more than once. The last time gets him a sharp glare over my shoulder. Yet, he’s pretending to look down a hallway. The food is balanced in one arm, leaving the other free. Yeah, he knows, I know what’s up. For the rest of the time, I’m weaving us through the maze of a hospital, sipping my drink until we slip out the side doors to the garden behind it.
“This is surprisingly nice.”
“Why?”
He shrugs, looking even more handsome in the setting sun. It turns his tan eyes a deeper cinnamon, but also makes the bags under his eyes appear more blueish-black.
“Just didn’t expect a park at a hospital.”
The benches are old, concrete bases with wood slats that creak when I lower myself. It groans under his weight. He’s sitting too close, but doesn’t seem to notice when digging through the bag. I set my coffee on the slate beside me and inch away. The bench gives me away by squeaking more. It gets a long look from him, and the few inches now between us, so our thighs aren’t touching. He doesn’t say anything, but the downturn of his lips does.
That’s something with these two.
They’re blunt. Will let you know exactly where you stand. I doubt they’ve ever hidden anything in their lives. Probably never have had too. Must be nice. To be a hundred percent truthful with the person you’re with.
“Do you lie?”
With a box of food in midair, he turns to me. Confusion on his face.
“Huh?”
“Do you lie? To women? To get your way?”
As if in slow motion, he sets the box on his lap and angles toward me.
“Why would I do that?”
The slight breeze lifts the edges of his hair. It’s carefree and light. That’s what I love about the garden. Small actions, like a breeze, erase the false, sterile environment inside.
