“Since you’re both quitting, can I do the same?”
“Whyever, for? Your career’s just starting,” she said as if he’d asked an insane question. “Anyway, you go and get ready for work. I’m off to prepare for tonight’s dinner party. Please come ifyou can.” She hung up before he could say anything else, but Des lay still with his phone still pressed to his ear.
Did my mother use the word, please? And with me? What the fuck is going on here?
SCENE VI
DES
Des groaned, stretching and hearing his muscles pop in all the right places. The minute he’d stepped into the hospital, he’d been pulled into an emergency surgery for a construction worker who fell off a scaffold, breaking his spine in four places. That was five hours ago, and now he was aching and starving. After cleaning up and speaking with the family, he went to the lounge to grab something to eat and bumped into Doctor Fabian Castilian, or as the nurses liked to call him, Doctor Adonis.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Des said as he tried to step around the other doctor, but he was stopped with a hand on his waist.
“Nothing to apologize for. I was hoping to bump into you,” the doctor told him.
“Oh really, why?” Des moved back, allowing the hand holding him to let go.
“I wanted to know if you’ve reconsidered my dinner date request. I was hoping for tonight.”
I already turned you down. What is there to think about? What the fuck is wrong with this guy?Doctor Castilian was handsome, that was for sure, but the doctor set off his spidey senses whenever the man was near him. He knew the guy was a straight-up player and liked bragging about who he’d fucked. But other than that, Castilian was an exceptional surgeon. Or it could’ve been his imagination. “I don’t think it will be possible. I promised my mom I’d have dinner with her and my dad tonight.”
“Oh,” Castilian said, seeming quite crestfallen, but Des didn’t understand why when the man had plenty of others in the hospital to choose from. “Maybe some other time, then.”
Des nodded and walked away, only to stop again when he noticed that the patient, Mister Moor, who was two doors down, had been watching their interaction. He was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, and again, Des was surprised. Anyone who had just had a major surgery like Moor would be laid up in bed, not wanting to move for at least a week. It had only been a couple of days, and the man was already on his feet.
“Mister Moor, you should be in bed,” Des said, walking over to him. “You’ve only been awake for a couple of days.”
“I can’t lie in bed all day, Doc; I’m not built like that,” Moor said, his tone low and steady.
“Well, as your doctor, I’d advise you not to move too much. Your sutures cannot be disturbed.” Des sighed, realizing he wouldn’t be getting anything to eat anytime soon. “Let’s get you back into bed so I can look you over.”
Moor stared down at him since the man seemed significantly taller than Des had imagined, making him tilt his head back to look up at him. After a few seconds, he grunted and walked back into the room. Des wrapped a hand around his waist, giving him aid that proved to be a bit useless. Even injured, the man could still lift Des without breaking a sweat.
“You don’t have to help me into bed. I can manage.”
“Okay,” Des agreed, not wanting to be bothered arguing with the man.
Once Moor was situated in bed, he began his exam, making notes on his file. He hadn’t had time to review the test results from the day before, but Moor was healing well. However, it didn’t mean the man could walk around at will.
“Are you really going to your folks' for dinner?”
Des paused and looked at the patient. “What business is it of yours?” he snapped.
“I’m bored.” Moor shrugged his shoulders, then hissed at the action. “Call me curious.”
“You know what they say happened to the cat, right?” Des said.
“Then I suppose I can rely on the other eight lives I have left,” was Moor’s snappy comeback, not taking his brown eyes off Des, still waiting for an answer.
“I don’t discuss my private life with my patients, Mister Moor.”
“Fair enough, but that guy won’t give up. You’ve already rejected him twice. He’ll try for a third and wear you down until you say yes.”
Placing his stethoscope around his neck, Des tilted his head to the side. “How did you know he’ll ask me again?”
“Guys like that don’t give up.” Moor laid back on his pillow, reached for his remote, and turned on the television. “I guess I can see why he won’t. Too bad you’re not my type, or I’d ask you out myself.”
“Who said I’d go out with you anyway?” Des growled, feeling quite annoyed with the man, especially when he smirked.
