CHAPTER 50 – ANTONIO
Sophia got paged, so she can’t meet me after all. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. I’m a grown-up. Grown-ups manage. I glance at the clock on the canteen wall . Caspian said he’d be back “in a while.” I’ve never thought about it before, but “a while” is a dangerously abstract term.
To me it’s fifteen minutes, tops. To the universe? Eternity.
I take out my phone to type:
“How long do people mean when they say a while.”
The first result is basically a search engine’s way of flipping me off: a while means a reasonable amount of time, depending on the context.
I translate that into my native language, Antoniose, and realize I’m screwed.
Reasonable is my number one enemy, and context comes as a close second.
Warily, I study my surroundings. I don’t like where I am right now.
Hospital canteens are just school canteens with stethoscopes. The tray-sliding line. The aggressive fluorescent lights.
All the people milling about. They even stare at me like they did in school.
Caspian’s been gone for five minutes now.
Not long enough to be a while, but long enough to make me type:
“What if your boyfriend forgets you’re waiting for him at the hospital canteen and leaves?”
The first piece of advice tells me to prioritize my health.
I should prioritize my health.
I take an apple from my shoulder bag and bite into it.
Then I try to estimate how long their conversation will take.
First, I factor in Penelope’s background. If she uses medical jargon, Caspian would ask for clarification. He’s thorough like that—at least with me. He wouldn’t let us leave the parking lot until I’d admitted Ryan was back.
Maybe he’s the same with her.
He would look at his sister calmly and say, “Penelope, I’m not leaving this room until you explain what you meant by intracranial pressure.”
I like that about him. I like his integrity.
Eight minutes.
I miss the steady warmth of his body anchoring mine, and the solid, reassuring weight of his cock on my tongue.
Three days ago, I had that, and I felt so safe. I want that now. I need the safety of him .
I almost type another question, something along the lines of:
“Why does holding his cock in your mouth feel safer than sitting alone in a hospital canteen?”
Then I decide against it.
The search engine is not ready for my truth.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
Caspian!
He didn’t forget me, and his while was less than fifteen minutes—less than ten!
I jump up and wrap my arms around him, clinging to him like I’ve been starved for his solid presence.
“Sophia got paged,” I mumble, pressing my face against his shirt.
My heartbeat is already slowing down.
His arms tighten around me. “I’m here now. I’ve got you.”
“Did you make her explain intracranial pressure?” I ask, pulling back to inspect his face for signs of medical exhaustion.
He blinks. “It didn’t come up. Are you hungry?”
“Yeah, although I did have an apple just now, because Google told me to prioritize my health.”
I look around the canteen. “Can we eat somewhere else?”
“Of course. Wherever you want.”
He takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. We start walking toward the car, our steps echoing on the linoleum. The buzzing in my mind is already softening.