Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Quinn
I was in so much fucking trouble. I made it ten steps into my bathroom, then dragged my scrubs down to my knees and grabbed my dick. Pressing my palm to the wall, I began to jerk myself, lost in the lingering scent of Ferris’s subtle soap and the echo of his voice.
With my eyes closed, I could picture him perfectly on my lap, taking every inch of my cock, feeling him squeeze around me, listening to him gasp and moan and beg. He was so unchecked, so fucking honest.
So perfect.
He was everything I had ever wanted and didn’t think existed in the real world.
“Fuck fuck,” I gasped. My balls went tight, and my face heated up as my dick pulsed, then spilled, come dribbling down to be caught by my pants.
My chest heaved as I attempted to catch my breath, and I shook my head, trying to clear the fog as I stood up straight and managed to get my scrubs off my calves and kicked toward the laundry basket.
I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror for a moment. My eyes were red-rimmed, and the few lines I had across my forehead were a little more pronounced.
God, what the fuck did he want with a man like me—a man aging faster than I should have. A man whose body was broken into pieces and put back together so haphazardly, every joint ached.
I shoved my hands under the faucet and turned on the water, scrubbing away a few flecks of come before swiping them on the towel and limping into my bedroom. My stuff was mostly unpacked, but I navigated around a few lingering boxes and grabbed some sweats from my drawer.
My plan had been to rot on the couch until my hunger forced me to get up and microwave some dinner, then rot some more until sleep took over.
But I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this horny.
Well, no. That was a lie. In the days that followed Ferris, I’d jerked myself damn near blind until my body refused to get hard again.
But even then, I thought of him. I woke up with an erection pressing into the mattress, my hips rocking slowly until I was fully awake and fully aware again that Ferris was gone and I was alone.
What a pathetic, sad sack of shit I was.
Padding into the living room, I glanced toward the kitchen, but I wasn’t really interested, so I flopped onto the couch and put my leg up on a handful of pillows.
Clawdine jumped up to join me. She didn’t like being pet.
She was the kind of cat who wanted to be near all the time, but if you tried to touch her on your own, she’d scratch your face off.
We got along well that way.
She settled comfortably on my lower stomach and only complained a little when I shifted back and forth to grab my phone out of my pocket. I kept it on silent during my workday and hadn’t realized I was missing texts.
My heart kicked in my chest when I saw Ferris’s name on the screen.
Ferris: I hope today wasn’t too much. My ankle hurts a lot but I figured that was a good sign.
Me: It can be. If it starts swelling or you can’t take the pain, go to the ER.
Ferris: I won’t. I don’t like the ER. It smells weird and it gives me anxiety attacks.
Me: Send me a photo and I’ll tell you if it’s emergent.
Ferris. Okay. I didn’t expect you to text back.
Me: I didn’t think I’d ever see you again and I’m sorry it had to be like this.
Ferris: I don’t like being hurt, but I did miss you. It felt good to have you touch me again.
I couldn’t bring myself to answer that. Letting myself be even a little honest made me too tempted to let it all out. And I wasn’t about to make things more complicated for him.
Ferris: Is that the wrong thing to say?
Me: No. Are you crocheting right now?
Ferris: LOL. I’m transparent.
Me: Show me.
Ferris: *photo*
It looked like it was going to be three peas in a pod.
Me: Cute. Who’s it for?
Ferris: My vegetable collection.
He sent another photo of a windowsill full of tiny vegetables with big black eyes and tiny sideways comma smiles. The background beyond the window showed a rainy day, which meant he’d taken the picture some other time. That was probably the frat house.
Me: Cute. I have to go take care of my cat, but I’ll see you Monday.
Ferris: You have a cat?
Me: You inspired me. *photo*
Ferris: Tell her I love her.
Me: I will. Have a good night.
I let him take that as a dismissal. My feelings were crossing lines and boundaries.
I had to be careful with the rest. I was just starting this job, and I couldn’t let what I wanted put what I had at risk.
Even if I did something with him—even if we had just one more time—eventually, he would leave, and I would be here.
I had too much to lose.
So I turned my phone face down on the table, closed my eyes, and hoped I could sleep until the ache in my chest was long gone.
The ache didn’t go anywhere. I tried to sleep it out, Xanax it out, jerk it out…
hell, I walked six miles over the weekend, until my knee tried to leave my body in protest, to try and sweat it out.
But every time I was still, I was thinking about Ferris.
It took all of my self-control to not drive past campus.
In fact, it was only reminding myself that he wasn’t even there that stopped me from doing it. If I had friends—real friends, not flaky work friends—I might have been able to go out. Someone could wingman me into someone else’s pants, and I could forget for a little while.
Or I could stay soft and embarrass the fuck out of myself, and at least that would be more distracting than knowing I was about to see Ferris in a matter of hours.
But I didn’t. My life was small and sad.
I ended up binging random shows that had pretty thumbnails and trying to force Clawdine to love me the way internet cats loved their owners.
That didn’t work out either, and Monday morning, I had a nice long scratch mark on the side of my jaw to show for it.
Luckily, I hadn’t shaved in a while, so the hair covered it up.
I was a professional though. I showered, picked out my most comfy and worn pair of scrubs, then turned up on time and only caught myself watching the clock when I was in between patients.
Mondays were my busiest day. I’d absorbed all of Cal’s regulars, so it was back-to-back appointments with only fifteen minutes to shovel something down my gullet so I didn’t pass out on one of my patients.
We needed to hire help, or I was going to burn out quickly. I knew that Cal had posted a listing on Indeed, as well as put the word out there in the network for anyone who was looking to change offices or join a group instead of holding up a private practice.
But I also knew that I was Cal’s exception. He didn’t want to hire fresh grads. He’d given me the interview as a courtesy, but we ended up clicking, and he went against his policy to offer me a place. I was grateful for it.
At least, I used to be.
Now, as I massaged my back and tried not to see exactly what time it was since it was nearly five, I was regretting a lot of my choices.
“Need a massage?”
I turned to find Rachel, the last tech on duty, smiling at me. “I need a new PT or five.”
She laughed and shook her head. “Yeah. If you ask me…actually, never mind. I’m not going to bitch about my boss.”
“You think he’s trying to shut the practice down by making it miserable for everyone so they all quit and he can still say he tried?” I offered.
Her eyes widened.
“I had the same thought. It’s…well. Whatever.
” That would suck for me, but at least it wouldn’t be my fault.
And I knew Cal would help me find somewhere else to plant roots.
Maybe away from here. Maybe in one of the suburbs, so I could stay close but also know I’d never run into the man I wasn’t allowed to have.
“You look dead on your feet,” Rachel said. “The guy in the waiting room—he’s the only one left, right?”
The guy in the waiting room, who happened to be Ferris. Fuck. “Yeah. My last appointment of the day. If you want to take off, actually, I can handle getting him checked out.”
She pulled a face. “I don’t want to leave you, but that’s tempting.
I have a huge paper due on Thursday.” After a beat of silence, she shrugged.
“Let me at least grab you some dinner. I’ll hop over to Frescas and leave it at the desk.
I don’t think you should drive home without getting something more than that garbage salad in your system. ”
I huffed, but it was a garbage salad. It had been one of those ready-made Caesar salads with something that might have once been chicken. I’d only managed a few bites before I gave up. I needed to get my actual shit together.
“So…yes?”
Right. She needed an answer. “Yep. Yes. I’ll text you my order.” I tried for a smile, but whatever I managed was not that, at least going by the look on her face. “Thanks, Rachel. I appreciate it.”
“No problem. I’m going to finish up here and then take off. Have a good night!”
I watched her walk off, and then I took a breath and finally looked at my phone. Three minutes past five. That was going to bother Ferris. He probably knew doctors were always late, but I was profoundly aware of how important his schedule was to him.
I nearly tripped over my own feet trying to move faster than my legs wanted to go, but I caught myself and didn’t get a concussion as I made my way around the corner and through the heavy door that led to the waiting room.
Ferris was there, staring down at his fingers, which were fidgeting in a sort of sharp pattern against each other. He jolted when the door opened, then looked up at me with his wide, dark eyes. His lips curved into a smile, and my heart flipped upside down in my chest.
“Mr. Redding.”
He winced. I knew he hated being called that, but I didn’t have a choice. This was my job.
“You ready to start?”
He pushed himself to stand, then grabbed his crutches and limped heavily past me. I caught a whiff of his soap—stronger this time—and realized his hair was wet. He’d just showered. Was that for me?