“And you’re always an arsehole,” he says, smiling.
The Doctor can make even the word arsehole sound like something I want to hear.
We stand and head for the exit, slipping through the door.Outside, our cars are parked side by side, and we both lean our hips against the doors.
“Well, we talked about everything except rugby,” I say.
“I’m sorry for wasting your time.”
“I had nothing better to do.”
“It wasn’t so bad,” he says uncertainly.
“I would say no.”
“Maybe, who knows, we might actually become friends one day.”
“Let’s not get carried away.”
“Of course not.You could never be a friend of Dr Loser Dickhead.”
I step away from my car and walk towards him.The Doctor doesn’t look away, his gaze locked on mine.
“I can’t be your friend, Doctor.”The words rush out of me, thin and breathless.
“How naïve.Tonight won’t change anything.”
This time, he lowers his head, his voice threaded with bitterness and disappointment, but I have nothing else to give him.
“Exactly.”
“Well, we’d better go.I can’t keep my eyes open any longer.”
“Do you live far away?”
He lifts his arm and points at the pub.“Upstairs.”
Holy fucking shit.I wish I didn’t know that.
“I could have told you and invited you to my place, but it didn’t seem appropriate.”
God, Doctor.What planet are you from?
“I hope you’re not offended.”
“Not at all.”
I have no right to be offended.Not after telling him we can’t be friends.
“Good night, Doctor.”
“Good night, Captain.”
I get in my car and drive home, one raw, relentless thought pounding in my head.
The Doctor doesn’t want me.
But I fucking want him.
