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A few days of wondering if I'm dying.
Awesome.
I try to shake it off as I move through the sterile hallway, but it won't go.
This is a routine test.
A precaution.
The odds are almost nothing.
But if they aren't…
If this is it…
I move through the double doors. A dozen steps and I'm standing next to Dean in the bright lobby. The sun bounces off the white walls and the teal chairs, filling the room with warmth, energy, and a whole lot of irony.
He looks up at me with those bright blue eyes. "You okay, sunshine?"
No. But I want to get there. If I'm okay, I want to stop thinking about illness. If I'm sick, I want to stop wasting time.
He can get me out of my head.
He did last night.
And now… Well…
My fingertips graze his neck. "It's after my test."
His lips curl into a smile. "So it is."
"My place is ten minutes away."
His smile spreads over his cheeks. "I know."
"Then what are you doing sitting there?"
This is the slowest drive in the history of the world.
Every verse flowing from the speakers stretches on to eternity. I know the songs are four minutes each. But, God, do they really have to take forever to get the point?
Finally, I pull onto our street. Park in front of the empty house. Turn the car off.
The music ceases.
Our breath fills the tiny space.
His hand brushes my thigh as he reaches for his seatbelt.
It's only the lightest hint of pressure, but I feel it everywhere.
He was wrong to insist we wait until after the test. I'm no more relaxed than I was two hours ago.
But he can get me there.
I know he can.
I fumble over my seatbelt. My keys. The door handle. All of a sudden, I'm not an artist with expert control of my hands. I'm all thumbs.
