15. Emory
15
EMORY
I finish putting my damp hair in a braid and grab the suture removal kit I brought home from work yesterday. It’s hard to believe it’s only been a week since I stitched Luke up and he kissed me. And then I kissed him. And then all that other stuff happened. And now we’ve entered this weird pseudo-relationship where we hook up and hang out but aren’t dating.
We didn’t even make it an hour before we broke one of the two rules I set out for us. We both fell asleep watching TV that night and didn’t wake until we heard the door creak shut and saw Allie sneaking in with a sheepish look on her face. That is, until she noticed us both curled up together, half-naked on the couch, and then she just looked smug. “Guess my Carbonara did the trick,” she mused before sauntering off to her room.
Luke had apologized for falling asleep, but I waved him off. I was just as guilty. He came over the next night, and we ordered takeout. Allie was out again, and I made a mental note to check in with her. She’s been going out more than usual, returning early the next morning in the same clothes as the night before. But hey, she never once judged my dumpster fire of a love life. I’m not about to judge hers. Still, I’m worried about her.
Luke made up for the other night by making me come…fast this time. Embarrassingly fast. With his tongue. Then I made him come with mine. He insisted on hanging out again afterward, and once again, we fell asleep. This time in my bed. We took a shower together this morning, and he made me come on his hand again before he washed every inch of my body. I think he still feels bad for the vicious edging he gave me the other night. He went home after that, but then I remembered I had brought home the kit to remove his sutures, so I’m heading there now.
I walk up the stairs and pause. Do I knock? Or are we in the “I’ve had your dick in my mouth, so I can just walk into your house” stage? I decide that knocking is the way to go, not wanting to make any assumptions. Luke opens the door, and my heart skips. He’s shirtless, his sculpted abs and tattoos on full display. He’s wearing those damn gray sweatpants again, and as if that's not bad enough, he has a backward baseball cap on. Jesus, I just felt my core throb. I shamelessly rake my eyes over his abs before looking up to meet his amused gaze.
“Hey,” I breathe out.
“Hey, Little Wells. Miss me already?”
“Not quite.” I hold up the kit. “I’m here to remove your sutures, Mr. Collins.”
“Oh, now you’re all business? You weren’t being very professional when you were eye-fucking me a second ago. I might have to report you for inappropriate behavior, Nurse Caldwell.”
“Whatever,” I say as I breeze past him. “If you don’t want to be ogled, wear a damn shirt.”
“That sounds like victim-blaming.”
I roll my eyes. “Where are we doing this, Collins?”
He nods toward the kitchen table. I set everything up, wash my hands, and snap on a pair of gloves. I can’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu as I sit down to inspect his wound. Once again, I’m sitting at his kitchen table with a shirtless Luke, performing a medical procedure. Although this time, it’s one I am actually qualified to perform. I could probably remove sutures in my sleep. I clean the wound as I move his arm from side to side, inspecting it for any signs of infection. It’s healed nicely, but I think my amateur stitches will cause him to scar.
“Looks good. No infection, but it might scar. Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’ll just get a tattoo over it when it heals.”
I let out an amused chuckle. “What are the odds that you cut yourself in the one spot where you don’t already have a tattoo?”
“It’s not the only spot I don’t have a tattoo,” he says with a wink.
I roll my eyes and begin loosening the sutures with my forceps, using scissors to cut them underneath the knots. I’m laser-focused, trying not to accidentally cut Luke’s skin, so I’m almost startled when he speaks again.
“So, my friends from New York are coming in later today. We’re gonna go check out a new bar in Rocky Falls.”
“Sounds fun.”
“Do you want to come with us?”
I immediately stiffen. He wants me to meet his friends? Obviously, I’ve met a lot of his high school friends, but he wants me to meet his adult New York City friends?
“Oh shit. I spooked you,” he says, interrupting my thoughts.
“No—it’s just. Meeting friends is like a relationship thing, right? Not a friends-with-benefits thing.”
“We get to make the rules, remember? It’s just a couple of drinks. Travis and Ace are cool. They’re hockey players who were regulars at the bar I worked at. Well, I guess they’re still regulars. I just don’t work there anymore. Obviously. Anyway, they’re in their off-season and wanted to check out the ‘country.’”
He’s doing that thing again where he starts rambling when he’s nervous, and I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face.
“Hockey players? Like in the NHL?”
“Nah. They’re in the East Coast League but hoping to make it to the NHL eventually.”
“Oh, okay. But they’re still hockey players?”
“Yeah…” I see a brief spark of understanding build behind his eyes, and then jealousy spreads across his features as he realizes the motivation behind my questioning.
“You know what? On second thought, you shouldn’t come. You’re right. It’s way too couple-y,” he says, attempting to backtrack.
Oh, this is too good. There’s no way I’m backing out now.
“Nope. No takebacks. You asked me to meet your friends, so I’m going to meet your friends. Who are hockey players,” I add with a wink.
“But what if we run into Nate? I didn’t think about the whole public thing,” he tries.
“He’s in the city for work. Won’t be back until Wednesday.”
He winces as I finish removing the last of his sutures, but I don’t think it’s from anything physical I’m doing.
“Okay, all set. What time will you be picking me up?”
He doesn’t seem convinced but takes a deep, calming breath and answers me anyway. “We’re gonna hit up Ember Thai for dinner, and then we’ll probably head out around nine. Does that work?”
“I’ll be ready.”
I sip my caramel iced coffee and pop another bite of chocolate chip muffin into my mouth. Allie baked them this morning—stress-baked, more accurately. She cooks all the time but only bakes when she’s in full meltdown mode. The moment I came back from Luke’s this morning and smelled the delightful aroma of fresh-baked goods, I knew something was wrong. She still won’t talk to me, though, and it’s starting to irritate me. I’m giving her one more week, and then I’m hosting an intervention. Maybe Luke will come to it.
Shit, why can’t I stop thinking about him? I just left him a few hours ago, for God’s sake. I turn back to my book, hoping to distract myself until I see him again tonight. I planned on visiting Gram today, but I called ahead, as usual, and one of the nurses said she was having a rough day. My heart sank at hearing that. I hate when she has tough days. It’s worse because her doctors think it’s best if Nate and I keep our distance when she’s like that. Our presence just ends up confusing her more, and she gets agitated. So, I stay away, knowing that she’s in pain and there’s nothing I can do about it. It hurts even more because she always helped me when I was in pain. Until she couldn’t anymore.
So here I am, trying to distract myself with iced coffee, baked goods, and a new stalker romance. Yes, I’m into stalkers—fictional ones, of course. Although I have a vague recollection of telling Luke it was okay if he stalked me the other night when I was drunk. Anyway, it’s where I got the idea to try face-fucking, which was better than I expected. I thought I was going to be humbled real quick, but I think I held my own just fine.
Allie walks in, interrupting my thoughts and dropping a tray of peanut butter cookies on the coffee table.
“Oh my god. Again, with the stalker smut? I thought we were past that, now that you’re getting some regular D.”
“First of all, don’t judge my reading preferences. And second of all, I’m not exactly getting regular D.”
“Pardon?”
“I mean, I’m getting some . But we haven’t had actual sex yet.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Ugh, Allie. We haven’t had sex. Deal with it!”
“You don’t think that’s weird? You guys have been hooking up for a week.”
“Do you hear yourself? A week is not a long time.”
“It is for me. I can’t imagine being in the company of a man for more than an hour doing something other than fucking,” she says as she shudders.
“Okay, well, that is not normal. Anyway, I think it’s sweet. We’re just getting to know each other.”
“Haven’t you known him for like twelve years?” she presses.
“Technically, but we’ve only been reacquainted for less than a month. Just stop hounding me. It will happen when it happens.”
“And aren’t you guys just hooking up with no strings? Why do you need to know each other?” She looks borderline disgusted at the thought.
“Yeah, but—I don’t know, Allie. He says we make our own rules. And part of that involves getting to know each other.”
“Okay.”
“Okay? That’s it?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. “You’re not going to annoy me about this for the next hour?” She doesn’t respond to that as she looks idly out the window. “Allie, please talk to me. I know something is going on. You know you can tell me anything. Ride or die, remember?”
“I know,” she says sadly, averting her gaze back to me. “But it’s not my story to tell. Anyway, I have to go get ready. I have a date with a finance bro. I have to try to reel in all my snark so he doesn’t head for the hills before I can even get him hard.”
I shake that vivid picture from my head and grab her hand before she can stand up. “Promise you’ll talk to me if it gets really bad?”
“I promise,” she says, but I'm not sure I buy it. I let her go anyway. I know better than to push her when she isn't ready. Plus, I need to start picking out what I’m going to wear tonight.
An hour later, I’ve found the perfect outfit. Of course, most of it is from Allie’s closet, but I’m confident it’s the right choice. Now, all I need to do is channel some of that confidence I had when I was messing with Luke about his friends. The truth is, I’m terrified to meet them. What if they hate me? What if they think I’m not good enough? Good enough for what, I don’t know. It’s not like we’re dating. That’s your choice, the voice in my head chimes in. “Yeah, I’m aware,” I reply out loud, and then realize I’m talking to myself.
I really need to take a shower to clear my head. Then, I'll read one more chapter of my book—you know, for research purposes.