He was too…intense?
He lacked the casualness everyone else was displaying. Even though he was laughing with me, smiling at me, there was something in his posture that seemed more… rigid.
And the way his eyes had blazed when I’d mentioned the stalker? He’d looked almost scary. Like he’d go out of his way to protect me if I said a single word about being afraid. Which was weird. And oddly comforting.
Was he like that when I’d met him at the club too? I couldn’t remember him at all. Then again, everything about that night was a hazy fog.
I knew he’d been very assertive about getting me to the hospital. And about demanding I’d be seen ASAP. He hadn’t been outwardly rude, but he’d left no room for argument.
So he was a little stuck-up and a bit bossy. I could live with that. In certain situations—like me being a bit out of it after puking blood—it could certainly be an advantage having a friend like that.
“I’m back. Sorry it took so long.”
I flinched.
Holy fucking shit, was this guy a ninja, or had I spaced out for a moment?
Eric smiled at me, placing his hand on my shoulder for a moment. “Did I scare you? Sorry, that wasn’t my intention.”
I laughed it off. “No problem. I didn’t hear you coming.”
He nodded seriously. “The rugs swallow a lot of sound.”
Oh, I guess I hadn’t thought about that. “So, you’re not a ninja?” I joked.
Eric snorted, his face relaxing a fraction. “Sorry to disappoint.”
He sat down opposite me, his body melting into the armchair. He looked more comfortable now, more relaxed. Maybe he’d just been nervous about meeting up.
“Did you find something you want?”
I nodded. “They have an anti-inflammatory tea. I guess I can’t go wrong with that one. And I’ll have a scone to go with it.”
Eric nodded appreciatively, carding a hand through his short, dark hair. “Sounds good.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “You don’t need to lie. It sounds bland. But bland food it is. What are you having? Let me live vicariously through you.”
Eric grinned, his eyes scanning the menu. “I’ll have a cappuccino and… ugh, I think I’ll go with a scone too.”
“Noo,” I whined a bit overdramatically. “You need to order something else, something that would make my stomach bleed with anger.”
He chuckled, his eyes flashing for a moment. He grabbed the menu, scanning it more closely this time around. “Fine. I’ll get the tiramisu. Sugar, alcohol, and coffee… upsetting enough for your stomach?”
I nodded, my stomach grumbling longingly. “Perfect. It makes me hate you a little, though.”
Eric leaned back in his chair and gave me a feral grin. “You could never hate me.”
The absolute certainty in his words made me wonder if he knew something I didn’t, since we were just getting to know each other.
Being sick sucked ass.
I leaned against the wall of the elevator and closed my eyes. That doctor’s visit had been extremely unpleasant. My doc wasn’t one to mince words, and he’d ripped me a new one when I’d admitted how long my stomach had been bugging me and exactly what my diet had been like the past two months.
And yeah, seeing as the single trip had fucking drained my energy, he might have a point.
I let out a yawn and rubbed my forearm where it was still stinging from that stupid infusion. Apparently, they were working. My iron levels were still abysmal, if I wanted to quote my doctor, but not as abysmal as when they’d checked them in the hospital.
Soo… yay, progress.
