Page 42 of The Love Operation

I can tell she’s smiling behind her mask, so I force a smile back.

“Everything’s ready in there.”

“Thanks. I don’t know what I’d do without you, D.”

She narrows her eyes, like she’s studying me, reminding me of Delenn, and I can’t say I love it. “Everything okay?”

I hate that she can sense something off with me. I wish Delenn had never brought up Benedict. He’s a sore spot that never truly healed, one reason I’ve avoided all memories of him. I dated before and after him, but he was the relationship. We were old enough for it to be real and young enough to still believe in magic.

I make my voice lighter. “Just thinking about the case.”

“Oh yeah?” Her eyebrows knit. “This case is straightforward, though, right? A one-level?”

Now she’s worried she’s missed something. I cannot afford to be off today, cannot afford to cause my team to second-guess themselves.

“Absolutely,” I say breezily. “I meant the deformity case we have next week.”

I might as well lie to my PA too.

“You’re always on top of things.”

Is that sarcasm in her voice?

“I’ll scrub and meet you in there,” I say.

“I’ll go ahead and start draping and get initial X-rays.”

“Sounds good.”

As I scrub my hands and forearms with the sponge, the swirls of soap mesmerize me, pulling me somewhere else—my past. College anatomy.

“Cordelia Wren and Benedict Calder,” the professor announces, pairing me with the last person I want to be paired with to practice learning muscles in the arms.

Benedict is entirely too good looking, a distraction, and he’s entirely too relaxed about college in general. Which means he’s not someone I can rely on.

I almost ask to switch partners. But when I turn, I catch the curve of his lazy, lopsided grin, and something flips in my stomach. I keep my mouth shut.

I’ll just have to study more later, on my own.

“You know we have to pass this, right?” I snap, flipping through the study guide.

Benedict’s right eyebrow rises. “You think I don’t want to pass?”

“It doesn’t seem like you do,” I say, sounding like a brat.

His grin doesn’t fade. “What makes you think that?”

“You’ve been staring at the ceiling for the last ten minutes.”

“So what you’re saying is”—he tilts his head—“you’ve been watching me for the last ten minutes.”

I roll my eyes. “I can’t work with you,” I spout. “I’m going to ask Professor Choate if we can switch partners.”

Before I can move, his fingers wrap gently but firmly around my wrist, tugging me just a fraction closer.

Hello, electricity.

I should pull away. But I don’t.