I open the passenger door and get out of the car, before turning to face the window. “You can go now.”
“I am going.”
“Dad…”
“What? I’m not doing anything.”
“I’ll never ask you for a favour again.”
“Are you sure that arsehole is going to come and pick you up?”
“It just so happens that that ‘arsehole’ is the guy I’m going out with.”
“Only until I wait outside his house at night and cut off his legs. Both of them. Up to the knee.”
“He’ll still be able to operate, even in a wheelchair.”
“True. I’ll break his fingers, then. Thanks for the tip.”
I scoff and cross my arms. “Do you always have to do this?”
“I don’t like that nurse.”
“He’s a doctor.”
“Does it matter?”
“You have to stop it, Dad. I like Luke.”
“And you don’t care that I don’t like him?”
“Honestly? No.”
“We’ll see.”
“Can you go now? Please.”
Dad switches on the ignition and slowly pulls out of the O’Connors’ driveway, never taking his eyes off the front door. I don’t know what he’s waiting for – maybe to see if one of the boys opens the door to me?
I asked him to drop me off because I have a date with Luke tonight, the guy I’ve been seeing for a few weeks now, and he’s going to pick me up straight from here. It might not be very professional, but this is the O’Connors after all. They wouldn’t mind about things like this.
I pull my bag over my shoulder, which contains my change of clothes for tonight: I’ve chosen a really nice dress that will hopefully do something for him. Maybe tonight he’ll finally take me back to his apartment and rip it off me, moving to the next level of this relationship before my body shamelessly explodes. And when the front door opens, the thought of dresses being ripped off flares up in my mind again – but the man is different to who he was two minutes ago.
Jesus, Nick. Why have you aged so well?
“Hey, Casey.”
My name on his lips. A shiver creeps through my body. I must be chilly. I should’ve worn a jacket.
“Come in, my parents are waiting for you.”
I step past him, averting my gaze – but that uninvited tingle keeps creeping up my spine. It’s starting to get irritating.
“I helped them move a few bits of furniture out of the living room, so you’ll have space. I set up the physio table, too.”
I follow behind him, my eyes sliding down his back, before settling on the curve of his bum in their tight jeans. I think every woman on the planet has memorised that bum – so I don’t see anything wrong with making the most of the situation, letting my eyes work out whether it really is as perfect as his modelling pictures, or whether it’s been PhotoShopped.
“You okay?” He turns suddenly towards me.
