“Your sister seems to think this is funny,” I say, attempting to inject some levity into the situation.
Joss shoots a death glare at Ali. “My sister is a sadist who enjoys other people’s pain, apparently.”
That throws me. “Is this... painful for you?”
Fuck. I’m over here developing a full-blown crush, and she’s in pain?
She does a double take when she looks at me. “No, that’s not...”
But she trails off and doesn’t finish, which leaves a bitter, stinging glaze coating the inside of my body. She stares at the ground, and her throat works with what looks like a fairly agonizing swallow.
I... This... She... Pain?
My previously firm foundation suffers a hairline crack, zigzagging down the middle, and I’m off-kilter. I hadn’t even had time to make sense of this infatuation, but the rejection smarts like acid on my skin.
It doesn’t matter. Not really. Nothing would have come of it anyway. This is Joss. We’re friends.
But... friends don’t think it’s painful when you touch them.
“Just one more,” Yayoi says, oblivious. “Head on chest.”
Head on—what?
Yayoi motions for me to move. “Hug her, and, Joss, I want you to rest your head and ring hand on his chest.”
I force my numb limbs to do as she says, ignoring how perfectly Joss fits against me. My hands land on the small of her waist, my cheek on the top of her head.
Click, click, click.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur.
“Sorry for what?” Her tone is soft, if a little hesitant.
“I’m sorry it hurts.”
Click, click, click.
Asher
18 Months Ago
The best part of medical conferences is the location.
Jocelyn and I always search for conferences that benefit us both, and only in fun locations. This year’s symposium covers OB anesthesia... in Vegas.
Joss nudges me as I nod off during the Friday afternoon lecture, and I jerk awake. A couple conference-goers beside me chuckle.
I wipe my face. Damn it. Is that drool?
“This is so boring,” I whisper at her. “Can we skip out?”
Jocelyn jots down the lecturer’s last pearl of wisdom in her provided workbook. “This could save someone’s life someday.”
I pull out my phone. “But it may kill me out of sheer boredom.”
“Just look at porn or something. Forty-five more minutes.”
“Right.” I scroll through my Instagram. Must fight the droopy eyes. “Exactly what I need. A stiffy in the middle of this crowd.”
