“Sorry again.”
He sounds truly mortified, like he’s done something awful, like he isn’t a doctor with a child to look after.It’s as if he feels he has to apologise for who he is and what he does.
“It doesn’t matter, really.”
“I guess your time is precious.”
I shrug.
“And the last thing you want to do is waste it on me.”
Ah, Doctor.
I have this terrifying feeling that with you, nothing would ever be wasted.
Not even a nanosecond.
And now, I find myself wanting to give you all of my fucking nanoseconds.
Every single one.
Chapter11
Martin
Istop the car, turn off the engine, take a few deep breaths, and step out just as his car pulls up beside mine.
We’re at the local pub beneath my apartment.I hadn’t chosen it with any real intention; it’s not like I wanted to bring him to my place.He told me to pick somewhere close to home, and this was the only spot that came to mind.I could have invited him upstairs, but I was worried he might get the wrong idea.
The problem is, I actually do have that kind of idea, but it’s all his fault.If he hadn’t kissed me at his sister’s wedding and pressed his body to mine, making it very clear how much he liked it, I wouldn’t be in this situation.If he didn’t look at me, talk to me, or — better yet — if he didn’t exist at all, I wouldn’t have a problem.
The Captain is real — every glorious inch of him.What started as a silly crush has spiralled into something dangerous, my secret fantasy growing too fast, taking over, turning into an obsession, like a degenerative disease that can only end one way.
I’ve met men like him before: you never stand a chance.They drain you, body and soul, until there’s nothing left, and no one can help you find your way back to normal.
Yes, the Doctor likes the Captain.
The Doctor is such a loser that he’d rather be messed with than ignored.
“Shall we go inside?”He nods towards the entrance.
“After you,” I say, opening the door for him.
“Such a gentleman,” he teases as I pass him.It’s as if I can hear Evan’s voice in my ear, whispering,You’re a loser, Dad.
I enter and look around.Most of the tables are nearly empty.It’s already ten p.m., and there’s never anyone in this pub during the week.I signal to the first available table, and he takes a seat while I head to the bar to order two beers.
I take the drinks back to the table, sit down opposite him, and immediately take a few sips to hide my embarrassment and try to relax.After a thirty-six-hour shift, I really need it — even though the reason for my nervousness is certainly not work.
How the hell can I sit in front of him without looking at him, fantasising about him, or making a fool of myself?
“So,” he begins after taking a sip of his beer.He leans back in search of a comfortable position, looking perfectly relaxed and ridiculously sexy.“What’s it like being… well, a doctor?”
Is he being serious?Why is he asking me about my job?
“Oh, it’s… you know…” I almost stammer.
Come on, Martin.He asked you about your job, not whether you wear underwear.
