Page 20 of Soup Sandwich
Callan bites out a sarcastic laugh. “You mean because you ran out on me or because of our current situation?” He shakes his head. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter.”
“I told you that night I was a one-night-only girl. You met the main reason why inside. I had fun with you Friday night, but that’s all I was looking for. A night of fun.”
Only now that I’m here with him, I almost wish I hadn’t run out. I wish I had stayed, and we’d had a bit more fun together as Layla and Callan before everything else got so damn complicated.
He exhales a heavy breath, and his face softens. “I know you did, but I won’t lie and say I wasn’t a little disappointed to wake up and find you gone.” Another breath and he grits his teeth and rolls his eyes in a self-deprecating way. “Whatever. That’s useless. Clearly, it was for the best since this is where we find ourselves now. It’ll be fine. We’ll be professional with each other. Nothing more. In a few months, summer will be over, and you’ll be moving on to start your clerkship rotations and I’ll hopefully be done teaching.” His eyes bore into mine. “We can get through a few months.”
He ends it there, but I hear his unspoken words ringing through my head all the same.Without ripping each other’s clothes off.Or maybe those words are my own. I’m brutally and painfully still attracted to him. I still feel that thing between us. That kinetic energy we seem to put off when the other is nearby.
I want him.
And I can’t have him.
But more importantly, I don’t want to want him.
So I repeat his sentiment, “We’ll be professional and nothing more.”
He nods absently, rubbing at his jaw as he takes me in. “This is going to be hell. Come with me.”
He doesn’t give me a choice. Instead, he takes me by the arm and leads me in the opposite direction of the T.
“You need to stop saying that to me if we’re going to be professional,” I quip, trying to get myself free of his grip but to no avail. “Hey. Stop. I need to catch the T.”
“I drove, so I’ll give you a ride. It’ll be faster than taking the E-train this time of day and then switching to the red line.”
Even though I know he’s right, I should argue it.
But I don’t.
Because I like his grip on me and I like the way he sort of manhandles me and doesn’t give a shit when I fight back. I like that he charged in and told Patrick to fuck off just as easily as he did the asshole in the bar the other night. I like the way I feel when he looks at me and how he’s a lot forbidden.
I shouldn’t like any of this.
But I do.
I won’t fuck him again. I won’t even flirt with him. I’ll keep this juicy secret to myself, but it’ll be one I hold onto and enjoy more than I should.
We don’t talk much in the car. Likely because neither of us knows what to say. He asks what I want to specialize in, and I tell him either emergency medicine—hence this summer in the ED to feel it out—or trauma surgery. The conversation ends there as he parks in his spot in the garage and then we walk toward the ambulance bay and the patient area of the emergency department.
“I’m meeting Oliver and Drew in there,” I inform him when he throws me a questioning look as I follow him.
Before we reach the ambulance bay doors, he stops me, taking me by the shoulders and moving us just over to the side. For a moment he simply stares into my eyes, deliberating something. Finally, he sighs, but he doesn’t release me. One hand slides to the nape of my neck, his other curls into a fist, and he drags his knuckles up my cheek.
“I have no right to ask you for anything. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. But can I ask a favor?”
I swallow past the lump in my throat and nod cautiously.
“It’s a big favor.”
“Okay.” I laugh at his warning expression.
“Don’t fuck anyone in my emergency department. And if you fuck anyone in the class, just make sure I don’t hear about it.”
I’m completely caught off-guard and snap in response. “I wasn’t planning on it. Despite what you think, I don’t sleep my way around Boston.”
“I wasn’t judging and that’s not what I was trying to imply.” His grip on the back of my neck tightens and his knuckles take another swipe. “I feel something I shouldn’t when I look at you, and I don’t need to make that stronger by becoming jealous of you with another guy right under my nose.”
“Oh.” And if I thought I was caught off-guard a moment ago, that has nothing on me now. I’m impersonating a goldfish. But worse, my heart starts to pitter-patter in my chest, sending a heady rush of girlish endorphins through my veins. It’s warm and tingly and feels incredible.