Page 72 of Forced Proximity

I should probably shut the hell up. Tomorrow, I’m going to regret this. But it’s been so long since I’ve opened up to anyone besides Zane. ‘Willow.’ I run my hand down my face. ‘That wasn’t real. I’m such an asshole, you don’t even understand. I tried, I really did. But so many times I made excuses to not see her, avoided calls, wouldn’t return texts. She didn’t deserve it.’

Doc leans back and studies my face. ‘So why did you do it?’

‘I don’t know. I kept thinking stupid shit like, “we’re not screaming at each other. Maybe this is how relationships work”. I wanted to open up, but I couldn’t. Trusting people is just, I don’t know.’ I peek at her from the side of my eyes. ‘I’ve never even loved anyone before.’ The heat on my face is immediate. ‘Jesus Christ. I can’t believe I’m telling you all this stuff. I’ve had way too much to drink.’

Is it the alcohol? Is it Doc? My tongue is lubricated, spilling secrets that I’ve never shared. And yet, I’m breathing deeper than I ever have.

‘Here.’ She taps the water bottle against my hand.

Probably not the worst idea. I slam half down. ‘Can I ask you a question?’

‘Yeah, of course.’

‘How did you get the name “Doc”?’

Her chest lifts in a deep inhale but she remains silent. Dammit. I probably went too far, but this, sitting here with her, is changing something. The room might be tilting, beer sloshes in my belly, but something in the air breaks.

‘I hardly tell anyone the reason.’ She chews the side of her lip.

God, I want to be those teeth, to see if her mouth is as soft as it looks. Her lips are just so luscious, begging to be kissed. I take in a few more gratuitous looks before I force my gaze back to her eyes. ‘It’s okay, you don’t have to.’

‘No, no. It’s okay. It’s kind of a funny story, I guess? It started freshman year, during a basketball tournament.’ She looks at her hands. ‘We were down by twelve, one of the starters got hurt, and the coach finally put me in. It was the second half, probably four minutes left in the game. And I caught fire. You played sports, you get it. I was completely in the zone and so freaking desperate to prove to my coach that I was worthy of being on the court.’

She runs her thumbnail against her ring finger and shifts in the seat. She’s nervous. Holy shit, Doc is nervous. God, I wish I was sober. I squint, begging my insides to not fragment this memory.

‘Anyway, I nailed basket after basket. Ended up scoring fourteen points, and we won. One of my teammates said something like, “you’re like a basketball doctor. You fixed the game.”’ A soft grin spreads on that gorgeous face. ‘And then the next game, the girls yelled, “The doctor’s in the house!” Pretty soon, they called me Doctor BB, you know, for basketball. And then they shortened it to Doc. By the time the next year rolled around, everyone called me Doc. And I liked it. It made me feel … accepted. Then it progressed as a way to protect myself. I only let those closest to me say my real name.’

Damn my heavy eyelids and low-thudding heartbeat. I’m hanging on every word, so honored that I get a glimpse into Doc’s world. She trusts me enough to tell me the story. I trust her enough to share mine. ‘I love that story. I … thank you for telling me.’

She nods with an almost sheepish grin, and … yep, her cheeks are pink. I might be seeing spots in the room, but I know a blush when I see one.

‘You know, I’m thinking you’re going to nurse a nasty hangover. Come on, chug the rest down, okay?’ She hands me the half-drunk water bottle. ‘I think it’s time you pack it in for the night.’

She stands and holds out her hand.

I stumble as I rise. Christ.

‘Easy there.’ She steadies me. ‘Here, come on. Let me help.’

‘I got this, I got this.’ My feet are definitely attached to the wrong leg. I tip into her but she stays firm. ‘Fuck, man. Dad was right. I cannot handle my booze.’

‘It’s okay. I’ll walk behind you to make sure you don’t fall. Pretty sure my career would be over if my client got hurt because they polished off a twelve pack.’

I thud up the stairs and down the hall. Inside my bedroom, the bed’s edge dips beneath my weight, and I brace my arm behind myself. I dig off my shoes as she rolls the covers back on the bed. Shit, it’s so hot up here. What happened to the air conditioning? The shirt is sticking to my skin. I snug it off and toss it in the corner. What time is it anyway? God, I’m so thirsty.

I grip the bedpost and my fingers fumble to unbutton and unzip. Jesus Christ, I have no feeling in my extremities. If I bend over, I’m going to fall. I tug my jeans down, flop onto the bed, then kick off my pants. The airborne jeans almost hit Doc, who’s standing with her back to me. ‘Ugh … sorry.’

I collapse onto the mattress and tug the covers to my waist.

‘Goodnight,’ she says. ‘I’ll be in the next room monitoring until Jack arrives. If you need something, just call for me.’

She can’t go. Not now. My eyelids are so heavy, I’m so tired, but I force them open. ‘Can you sit with me for a sec?’ I hear these words leave my mouth, but they sound foreign. She takes a deep breath and sits on the edge of my bed. I reach for her hand and rub my thumb against her wrist.

Such a beautiful hand. So perfect. So soft. I remember holding it at the club. I want more hand holding. More dances. More talks. She gently tugs her hand from my grip and places it in her lap.

‘You should try and get some sleep, okay?’

She can’t leave. I have so much to say, and now’s the time. I need to get it out, expunge it like a priest performing an exorcism. My thumb trails her cheek. ‘You’re so beautiful.’