He’s asleep. Or busy. I didn’t need to call him again. He’d see I tried to call and message me back.
Deciding to ignore that knot in my gut that told me something was wrong, I turned off the light and tried to go to sleep.
I might be nearly thirty,have a stable job, and be able to afford a flat in London—which was almost unheard of in the current climate—but that didn’t mean I’d lost the ability to act like a toddler when the mood suited me.
As I stared at my phone for the millionth time the next day, I reached the pinnacle of an adult tantrum. Halfway through getting dressed that morning, I caved and called George again. When it went straight to voicemail, I sent another text.
He hadn’t replied to any of them.
My sour mood must have been written all over my face because everyone in the clinic avoided me, shooting me polite smiles as they passed and only speaking to me to hand me a chart or X-ray. The only person who either seemed oblivious to the black cloud thundering above my head or simply didn’t care was Alistair.
He pushed open the door to the staff room, a tin foiled burrito in his hand, and pulled out the chair next to me. I glowered at him from over the lip of my instant noodles. Noodles that tasted more like cardboard than ever. I couldn’t help but notice the fake taste and texture of the cheap ones I bought. Nothing like the food George had been making me for the past few weeks. It never bothered me before, and that only added to my foul mood.
‘Do you mind?’ I snapped, eyeing the extra chair he pulled up to rest his feet on. Alistair crossed his ankles, unwrapped his burrito that smelledincredible,and took a giant bite out of it.
‘Who pissed in your coffee this morning?’ he asked once he’d finished chewing.
I pushed my half eaten lunch away and drained the last of my energy drink. My lunch break was nearly over and my patient list for the rest of the day was full, so I needed as much caffeine as possible.
‘I’m fine.’
Alistair barked out a laugh. ‘Yeah right, and I’m Pamela Anderson.’
‘You don’t have the hair for it.’
He shot me a devilish grin that I’m sure made several women blush. I wasnotone of them.
‘But I’ve definitely got the cheekbones.’
Alistair had striking features. He was clean shaven, and for a second, a stab of disappointment struck me. He didn’t have a scruffy beard that he scratched when he was nervous, and he didn’t have thick brown hair that always sat in a mess on top of his head. I mentally slapped some sense into myself.No. Stop.
I eyed my phone again.
Alistair continued to casually eat his burrito as his eyes darted from me to the offending phone.
‘That got something to do with yer shitty mood?’
I just needed to get through this day withoutactuallymurdering someone, and this conversation was making me feel a little stabby.
I shook out my twitching fingers, feeling them start to tremble. Alistair watched with casual curiosity as he took another bite of his lunch.
The feeling of falling off a ledge, unsure if there was anything at the bottom to catch you, crept up my spine.
Chewing on my bottom lip, I finally blurted, ‘How do you know if someone likes you?’
He paused. The last mouthful of food halfway to his mouth. ‘I beg yer fucking pardon?’
I sighed. ‘You heard me.’
‘No. I’m not sure I did, cause the Rosie I know doesn’t give two shits if people like her.’
I grabbed my phone and swiped up the lock screen, scrolling through all my texts with George from the pastweek. ‘I’m losing my mind. That’s the only answer I have. He’s addled me with his beard, and sexy voice, and smelling like a goddamn forest, and now I’ve lost all sense.’ I flung my arms into the air. Voice cracking, I sank back into the chair.
‘Jesus Christ,’ Alistair breathed, popping the last bite into his mouth and sitting up straight. Leaning his elbows on the table, he swiped a hand down his face. ‘Alright talk.’
I hesitated for a second, not wanting to give voice to the emotions running rampant around my body. After biting down on my lips so hard I tasted the metallic tang of blood, everything spilled out. The bet, the dates, the conversations, the weekend away. It all tumbled out of me in a muddle of half-finished thoughts and several curses. Alistair listened without interruption. When nothing was left and the last vestiges of my energy seeped out of me, I let my forehead flop onto the table with a soft thud.
‘Hang on a sec,’ he said, and I tilted my head to look at him. ‘He bought you a pile of rare and expensive books?’ Alistair’s eyes creased in confusion.
