“I wish I had more time to talk with you, but they need me on stage.”
“I understand. We’ll talk later.”
He swooped in for a quick kiss and jogged up the stairs of the platform. All the contestants found their seats, and piles of hot dogs were placed in front of them.
“Shouldn’t they have buckets up there too?” Ruth asked, smirking.
Kizzy rolled her eyes. “I think they’re disqualified if they vomit.”
“I can’t believe you agreed to watch this disgusting display. You must really like him.”
She laughed. “Yeah, I guess I must.”
When everyone was ready to go, the MC reiterated that one hundred percent of the money raised would go to the charity. It was for the families of fallen firefighters. The thought of Noah ever being one of those lost frightened her.
When the MC blew the whistle, all the contestants started wolfing down hot dog after hot dog.
Just watching Noah shoving more food into his mouth than was healthy, barely chewing, and swallowing down the mashed mess made her feel like turning green. The whole look was extremely unattractive.
Just then, one of the participants threw up. All. Over. The crowd made the grossed-out sounds she’d be making if she weren’t trying to be professional. But did she really want to watch this gluttony? Short answer, no. Longer answer, “Mother-hummer and her five sisters…get me outta here!”
“Really? You want to leave? I thought you were supposed to be on hand in case anyone chokes.”
“If any more of them vomit, I’m going to too. Can you watch the fracas for me and tell me if anyone is in trouble? I’ll pretend to look at my phone.”
Ruth burst out laughing. “I’m pregnant and less nauseous than you are?” She gasped. “Unless you—”
“Whoa. Not even possible. Get that thought out of your head.”
Ruth planted her hand on her hip. “Kizzy, you’re a doctor. You’ve seen way worse things than this.”
“I’d rather hold blood and guts in my bare hands. The minute this thing is over, I want to go for a walk.”
“Not go out to lunch?” Ruth teased.
“Not right away, no.”
Her sister, still giggling, watched the contest as Kizzy pretended to look at her phone.
“Oh shit. I’ve got to go.”
“Why?”
“Massive trauma. They’re calling me in.”
“On your day off?”
“Yeah, it must be really serious.”
“Let’s go.”
* * *
When the contest ended and Noah came in second, he looked around for Kizzy. She was nowhere to be found. He’d had her in the corner of his eye at the beginning of the contest, then he was hunched over for the rest of it.
Glancing down at his mustard- and ketchup-stained shirt, he realized he should change his clothes before he saw her anyway. The guys were given a few temporary lockers inside the fitness center. He washed up and dressed, fearing the worst. What if she hadn’t wanted to see him afterward? Did he disgust her now? Maybe he shouldn’t have even told her about this stupid contest.
When he was finally dressed and clean, he went back out to the platform the sponsors were breaking down. The crowd had thinned out, and he still didn’t see her. There was something glinting on the ground where she had been standing. He jogged over to it and noticed it was a phone with a sparkly gold sleeve. Kizzy’s phone!
