37. Rohit
W hen Miley and I are finally able to catch our breaths, she looks at me and says, “Give me your ID, quick.”
“What? Why?” I ask, confused.
“I’m going to run to the scrub machine and get you a fresh pair.” She smirks as she nods at the mess I made.
Leaning down, I grab her face and kiss that smirk off her face.
“Thank God for you and your quick thinking,” I sigh, as I pull my ID off my scrub top and hand it to her. She stands, adjusting her skirt before walking to the door. She closes it behind her and I finally stand and start taking off my scrubs. I fold them strategically to hide the evidence of our “picnic lunch” and put them in the plastic bag that Miley had used to bring the food to the call room.
The door creaks open and I turn around to see Miley returning with fresh scrubs. Miley stays in the doorway for a second, with her eyebrows knit together.
“What’s up, goose?” I ask as I walk towards her, worried that she may be overthinking things.
“You have another tattoo.” Miley walks to me and places her hand on my left scapula.
“It’s an om,” I explain.
“I know what it is. I just never realized how sexy tattoos are. Or is it just you that’s so sexy?” She tilts her head in pretend thought and then kisses my tattoo. She reluctantly pulls away so I can get dressed. “You don’t have a lot of time left. You better change and eat quickly.”
I smile as I pull on the scrubs and sit with her to scarf down some salad. Within minutes, an alarm beeps on my phone. “Miley, I’m pretty sure I have Stockholm Syndrome and would like to stay with you forever.”
If only she knew how true those words are to me.
“I’m glad I got to see you for a little while, but it’s time for me to release my abductee. When do you get off work today?” she asks as she stands and gathers the remnants of our lunch to throw away.
“Sign-out is at seven, so pretty soon after that,” I reply.
“Can I pick up some take-out and bring it over to your place? Or if you already have other plans, it’s okay,” she smiles shyly.
“I’d love that,” I answer honestly, as I bend down to give her a quick kiss. “I’ll see you later, goose.” My hand is on the doorknob, and I’m just about to leave, when I sneak a look over my shoulder, and add, “Hey Miley, I love you.” She smiles, but I exit before she has a chance to say it back.
After sign-out, I send Miley a text to let her know I’m heading home. I take the stairs up to my apartment two at a time and jump in the shower as soon as it’s warm enough to tolerate. After a quick scrub, I wrap a towel around my waist and head to my bedroom.
I’ve just pulled on gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt when I hear the knock on the door.
When I open the door, Miley takes my breath away. She smiles as she holds up a bag and says, “Gyros?”
With a grin, I take the bag from her then wrap my arm around her to draw her close. I lean in for a kiss, and Miley sighs against my lips. When I let her go, she takes off her shoes and follows me to the small kitchen table.
“I got one chicken gyro and one regular, because I wasn’t sure which you’d prefer,” Miley says as she unpacks the food.
“I’ll take the chicken, if it’s all the same to you?” I ask, as I bring a bottle of water and a Diet Coke to the table.
“Good choice. I would have eaten either, but I like the regular more.” She smiles as she eyes the Diet Coke. “How was the rest of your day?” she asks, settling into a chair.
“It wasn’t nearly as much fun as my lunch hour,” I say with a shrug as I take a big bite of gyro. “But it was good. I had a few sick patients but also a nursing student to help me out.”
“Do you like teaching nursing students?” Miley asks, dipping a fry in tzatziki sauce.
“I don’t mind, but it’s not my favorite part of the job. I wouldn’t miss it if I didn’t do it. It doesn’t excite me the way patient care does, and it’s not the same rush as coaching kids in tennis.” I am nearly done with my gyro, which I devoured in approximately four bites.
“I’m full,” Miley says as she wraps up what’s left of her gyro. “Do you want to save this in the fridge for later?”
“Sure,” I reply as I collect the leftovers and head to the kitchen. “Do you want to watch some TV or something?” I ask hopefully, not wanting my night with Miley to end quite yet.
Miley nods as she walks to my couch and sits, tucking her legs underneath her. “What do you like to watch?”
It’s funny how I feel like Miley knows everything about me, but we are still learning so much about each other.
“Actually, I don’t really watch any TV other than sports,” I admit.
Miley snorts a cute laugh. “And I don’t watch any sports, I mean, I guess except for tennis, now. Have you ever heard of The Bachelorette ?”
“I know Quinn watches it now, because of Dylan… and I guess I’m going to watch it tonight.” I shake my head as I hand Miley the remote.
Halfway through an episode of what seems to be a scripted show thinly veiled as reality television, I try and fail to stifle a yawn. Miley gives me a sideways glance as I shake off the tiredness and tell her, “It’s not the show. I’m just really tired. And I have to coach at seven AM tomorrow.”
Miley nods apologetically and stands. “You’ve had a long day. I should go.”
“ Or you could stay,” I say as I grab her hand. A quick glance shows her brows raised in question. “Just to sleep, nothing else,” I add with a chuckle, then tug her back onto the sofa, pulling her to sit next to me. “I like having you around.”
She nods and I stand while throwing her over my shoulder. Miley laughs as I carry her to my bedroom and set her down on the floor by my dresser.
She notices a discrete white bag on my bed. “What’s this?”
“Oh, I got something for you—us.” I run my hand over my beard. She looks at me quizzically and I pull out a box from the bag. “It’s a toy that we can use together, I think. I don’t really understand the mechanics of it, but that’s what the website told me. It’s not for tonight though I just wanted to have it as an option for later.”
Miley examines the box, then looks up at me. Her eyes are bright and she says, “That’s really thoughtful, Rohit. Thank you.” She takes the box from me and sets it on my dresser and wraps her arms around me. I lean into her embrace and bend to kiss her forehead.
“You really don’t have to thank me for doing the bare minimum.” Reaching into the top drawer, I withdraw a soft cotton tee. “Now, how’s this for you to sleep in?” I ask, handing her an ITA shirt.
Miley shimmies out of her joggers and pulls her tank top over her head leaving her before me in only panties. I’m so hard I can’t see straight. She takes the shirt from me and tugs it over her head.
She pulls the shirt up to her face and inhales deeply.
“This smells like you,” she murmurs. I was just thinking the same thing, how the shirt will smell like her now, and I may never wash it again.
She places one hand on her hip.
“How do I look?” she asks.
“The Impact Tennis Academy merch has never looked so good,” I reply as I notice how it hangs just to her mid thigh, exposing an excruciating amount of bare skin I’d love to trace kisses over. If I don’t get her covered, I may not get any sleep tonight. Taking her hand, I move to the bed. She trails me, crawling under the covers and scooting close, flawlessly fitting beside me. My perfect little spoon. Before I know it, I’m in a deep sleep.
Early in the morning, my alarm jolts me. Flailing for my phone, I try to silence the device before waking Miley, but it’s no use. She smiles at me sleepily.
“I have to head out soon and I’m teaching until two this afternoon,” I tell her, kissing her forehead. God, she looks so fucking beautiful in the morning. “It’s not often you get a golden weekend, so sleep in. The door is self-locking, so don’t worry about that.”
“Mmm, okay, if you insist,” Miley purrs as she rolls over and falls back asleep. All I can think is, I want to keep her. I want to make her mine forever.