“It’ll be fine, don’t worry,”
“Don’t worry? My face just broke your hand. If we don’t look at it, you won’t be going to work any time soon. Now, give me your hand.”
Well, fuck. I didn’t think of that. All I thought was the need to escape. Of the memoriesthat came over me.
“What are you going to do? I’m best seeing a doctor or something,” I say.
“Well, it’s a good job there's one right in front of you,” he says with a smile.
Well, that makes sense. He has the whole look going for him, and it explains the tidiness of his apartment. Why does he seem more attractive now that I know his job role? Wasn’t he gorgeous enough before?
“You're a doctor? And I hit you! I’m so sorry,” I cringe, looking down at the floor. I’m sure this is a felony. I don’t think I'd cope well in prison. I'd be someone's bitch in no time.
With his free hand, he uses it to lift my chin.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. Actually, I'm quite impressed, not many people could throw a punch like you,” he winks. “Come on, let's go and get you checked over.”
