13. Rohit
T he door opens, and Miley’s mouth falls open. She steps back, her eyes traveling up and down, taking in my appearance. Ordinarily, my ego would love being checked out like this. The thing is, I’m frozen. Miley is the breathtaking one. Her strapless dress reveals curves that her hospital-issued scrubs hide. The green color looks beautiful against the ivory skin of her breasts. I finally tear my gaze away from her chest and catch her eyes.
“Rohit, you’re in a tux,” she says with surprise.
“You said it was a fancy gala,” I manage to reply as I lean against the door frame. Am I trying to look cool or am I trying to not pass out from Miley’s beauty knocking the wind out of me? Either is a possibility. I can’t help looking from her dark eyes to her chest, down to her waist where the dress starts to flare out. Regaining composure, I quickly return my eyes to hers. Miley smirks. I’ve been caught looking. I can’t say that I mind though. At least she knows the attraction is mutual.
“Do you just have a tux sitting in your closet?” Miley asks, eyes narrowed in suspicion, as she steps back, motioning me to come inside.
“I do now,” I answer with a smile as I enter her apartment. Miley lives in Quinn’s old building, but a quick look around shows me that this apartment is smaller than the one Quinn had. It looks to be a studio, with her bed centered in the room. Her laptop is open on the comforter and in the corner I see a piano keyboard and sheet music.
“You rented a tux for me? I mean, for this event?” I can hear the skepticism in her voice as she follows me into her own apartment.
“Well, Reena and I went to a few rental places, but it was tricky finding a place with pants that were long enough. Luckily, the third place had something workable, and they were able to tailor it in time. Reena loved the look so much she convinced the place to let me buy it so I could wear it again for one of her wedding events next year. They were more than happy to sell the tux, claiming they’d never find anyone else to wear it.” I shrug. “Miley, you look beautiful,” I add, turning my attention back to her.
“A little help, please?” She turns her back to me and I see what she is asking me to do.
I have done this many times before for Reena, but Miley is not my sister.
I gently move her hair to the side, exposing her delicate neck. My breath catches, but I manage to stay on task and grasp the zipper with my right hand and tug the dress down with my left, so it’s pulled taut. My fingers graze the soft skin on her back as I draw it up and she inhales sharply at my touch, making me freeze.
“Are you done?” she asks.
“No, it’s…” My voice trails off as I wonder if she’s amenable to me accidentally touching her again as I try to pull up the zipper.
“Is it stuck? The dress fit okay when I tried it on at the store,” she says.
“N-no,” I stammer, grasping the pull tab and zipping it up the rest of the way. I somehow manage to avoid touching her skin again. When it’s secure, I release a soft sigh I didn’t know I was holding.
I watch her bend to put on her heels. Her dress is long in the back, but ends just above her knees in the front. I alternate between staring at her legs and her cleavage. I shouldn’t stare, but I’m only human, and her smooth legs are on display, and when she bends, her curves are just dynamite. Suddenly, I find myself wondering if my pants were taken in at the crotch by accident. When she looks up, I turn away quickly. She may be sexy as hell, but she asked me to this gala as a friend.
“I’m ready, let’s go,” she says in one sharp breath as she grabs a gold sparkly purse and reaches for the doorknob. I follow her out of the apartment silently and wait while she locks the door and slips the keys inside her bag.
As we walk to the elevator bank, I pull out my phone.
“The car will be here in five minutes,” I explain, looking up from my phone. I push the button to call the elevator while Miley reaches for the door to the stairs.
“Oh, the gala is only a 25-minute walk from here,” Miley says, confused.
“Miley, look at your shoes. They are hot, for sure, but would be painful to walk in for that long,” I scoff, as I hold open the elevator door for her.
“I’m used to it. Taxis are expensive,” Miley grumbles as she begrudgingly steps into the elevator.
“I have two jobs and no medical school debt, this one’s on me,” I say as I shake my head and follow her into the elevator. I stand next to her, staring at the closing doors, but I can feel her eyes on me.
“What’s your other job? Do you take shifts at another hospital?” Miley asks quizzically, head cocked to the side, as the elevator doors open and she steps out.
“I coach tennis,” I explain as we exit the building and I look down the street for a black Toyota. The car pulls up and I verify the license plate.
“Oh, I bet those Upper West Side moms love you,” Miley teases as I open the door of the car for her.
“Uh, something like that,” I say as I offer my hand to help Miley in. She looks at my hand and sneers, refuses to take it, and slides into her seat. I can’t help smiling as I close the door behind her and circle the front of the car to the other side. I’ve always liked her spunky and independent attitude. Her personality, combined with the way she looks in this dress, is going to test the limits of my chivalry.
I fold myself into the car and shut the door. Once settled, Miley calls to the driver, “New York Public Library, please.”
“I know, lady,” he says. “He had to put in the address when he called for me,” he adds flatly.
Miley and I exchange a quiet look of amusement. The ride is short and we sit silently until we arrive. The car pulls to a stop at the corner and I give Miley a warning glance. She must understand because she rolls her eyes and remains seated, waiting for me to exit the cab first and circle to her door.
This time, when I open the door, she takes my hand to help her out. I stand directly in front of her, but avert my eyes, just in case she has trouble with her dress. I don’t want anyone, myself included, getting a tempting show.
Once Miley is out of the car, she glances around, a wide grin lighting up her face. She radiates joy, and I’m curious if just getting dressed up for a fancy party makes her this happy, or if it’s something more.
“Look at all the celebrities on the red carpet!” Miley whispers, while gesturing to the long red carpet leading to the doors to the library. Photographers line one side and snap photos in a frenzy.
“Come on!” I say as I grab her hand and lead her to the queue to walk the carpet.
“Rohit! What are you doing? That’s not for people like us!” Miley blushes and tries to pull her hand away.
“Why not? You were invited,” I reply, suddenly wondering why exactly Miley was invited. I reach for her hand again and gently tug her to the red carpet.
“PROM POSE!” I shout, twirling her away from me and wrapping my hands around her waist. Miley can’t help laughing and the sound has me reeling to hear it again.
We take a few steps and she whispers, “Peace signs?” I follow her lead and wrap one hand around her and lift the other in a peace sign. She tilts her head to the side and makes a peace sign of her own.
After another few steps, I duck to her ear and murmur, “Charlie’s Angels!” I twirl her so we are back to back and we both lunge forward a little with our hands in fake karate-chops.
By now we are laughing so hard we stumble the last few steps to the entrance. I hold out my elbow, which Miley takes without hesitation.
“Let’s get this party started, Dr. Chen,” I say with a wink.