“I hate that we weren’t, Kendall. I really do.”
“I’m going to let you go now,” I say. “Your eyes are looking a little droopy.”
“When can I see you again?”
“At work this week, right?”
“Come on,” he says. “You know what I mean.”
I sigh. I think about what he said, about how he thinks I’m embarrassed to be seen with him. And about how I always deflect with sex. I have an idea, a bad one, I’m sure, especially since I just told him we couldn’t have more than this, but it’s sitting at the tip of my tongue. “You want to go to dinner Friday?”
He smiles at me, his face projecting a sleepy sort of affection that melts more of my resolve. “Are you serious?”
“Definitely.” I hold up my hand. “I know I’m confusing, butit might be nice to actually go out somewhere while you’re still on your rotation. As long as you aren’t working, that is. We’ll make a night of it.”
“Absolutely. I would love to.” His smile widens. “And Kendall?”
“Yeah?”
“Congrats, babe.”
20
KENDALL
I inspect myself in the mirror. My hair cascades over my shoulders in loose curls. It’s finally cool enough to wear something autumn-inspired, so I’ve chosen a short skirt and tall boots for my—what are we calling it? Rendezvous?—with Grant. I’m not ready to call it a date. That makes it sound more serious than what it is.
I’m skipping out on hanging with my friends for this, and when I think about it, guilt pinches at me. No one besides Maria knows what’s been going on with Grant. I can’t imagine confessing yet.
A knock sounds at the door. My heels clack on the laminate floor, each step coinciding with a thump of my heart. I throw the door open.
Grant leans against my door frame in a brown leather jacket like he’s James fucking Dean. My stomach dips, and I can feel a full body swoon coming on, all the way down to my toes.
He takes a second to scan me. His eyes pop when he sees bare thigh, and his smile suggests indecent thoughts when his gaze returns to my face.
“You ready?”
There could be some double entendre there, I’m sure, but I don’t comment on that. I step out the door and turn to lock it, and when I face forward again, I link my arm through his. He stiffens in surprise.
“Where are we eating?”
“I took the liberty of making a reservation.” He pulls his keys out as we walk to his car. “A steak place, if that’s okay.”
“Ooh, fancy.” I let go of his arm and slide into the passenger seat of his car. “Sounds good to me.”
Once we’re in the car, the scent of him envelops me, a spicy essence that reminds me of sitting by a campfire in the woods. His shadowed profile stands out against the evening sky. We had to plan for a late dinner given his obscene schedule.
“On a scale of one to ten, how exhausted are you?” I turn my attention toward him.
“Before I came over? A hundred.” He shoots a grin at me. “I’m pretty awake when you’re near, though. Like I’ve had a pot of coffee.”
It’s somehow one of the more flattering things anyone’s ever said to me. And I can certainly relate. Buzzing energy loops through my veins when he’s around, constant to the point of inconvenience, and my heart rate jumps all over the place. His hands—the same ones that perform surgeries with such competence, that touch my body with reverence—rest easily on the steering wheel, despite his claims of jitteriness.
“Have you read your book yet? The one you got at the bookstore?”
He turns onto the Watterson to head toward our destination. The trees zoom by. “Yep. It was good, but the medical inaccuracies were worse than I thought they’d be. Lots of characters walking off injuries that should have incapacitated them.”
I laugh. “You gotta let that shit go. Just pretend it’s another universe where the laws of physics don’t apply.”
