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I hit send, chuckling to myself. Her reply is immediate.
Harley: NO! OMG NO! Doughnuts! I brought doughnuts!
I throw my head back and laugh. I can picture her with wide eyes, her fingers typing furiously on her phone.
Me: Thank God! Doughnuts are still a horrible lunch choice though. I'll break about 12:30. Have lunch with me.
She doesn't reply and I tuck my phone in my pocket, disappointed at my failed attempt. She'll come around...I'll just have to give her a little more time.
I see my next two patients, one with pneumonia and one with mono. Afterward, I sit down to finish my discharge paperwork and I can hear Rosie at the front desk, laughing enthusiastically. I can't help but smile to myself. Rosie is such a sweet woman and her laughter reminds me of my mom.
I print off my patient's discharge instructions and walk into his room to give him a rundown of what he can and can't do, things he should watch for, and when to follow-up with his primary doctor. Once I’m certain that he understands the seriousness of the situation if he doesn’t comply—college students are notorious for relapses—I give him a note for class and then usher him out. I turn down the hall and walk into the break room, barely crossing the threshold before stopping dead in my tracks. Goosebumps run up my back at the sight of a pair of mossy green eyes that I’ve dreamt about every night for the past five years. The door slams into my back, propelling me forward.
Harley jumps up and hurries to my side. "Damn, that had to hurt. Are you okay?" she asks, her face laden with concern.
"I'm fine," I snap, straightening my spine and smoothing my shirt. "What are you doing here?" Damnit, that didn't come out right. This is what happens when I'm around her. It's like she sucks the air out of the room and my brain loses the ability to function.
She steps back. Her lips are pursed and a quick flash of regret crosses her face.
"I'm sorry," she stammers, taking a step toward the door. "I should have texted you back." Another step. "I got busy and then realized it was almost twelve-thirty." She looks at the door and then back at me before shoving her hands in the front pockets of her scrubs. "I should go."
"No!" I snap, reaching out and stopping her before she makes it out the door. "No—" I shake my head, trying to pull myself together. "I mean, yes. I do want to have lunch with you. Please don't be sorry." I run my hand down the length of her arm and grip her wrist lightly, stepping toward her. My movement causes her to look up and her breath fans my face. She smells of tea and cinnamon, and I would give anything to bend down and have a taste for myself.
I run my thumb over the inside of her wrist several times, grateful when she doesn't pull away. She looks down at my hand, then back up at me.
"I'm really glad you came down here, Harley." She smiles timidly and reaching up, she wraps a chunk of hair around her finger. Some things never change. If there is one thing I learned from being friends with Harley for so long, it’s her nervous habits. She stammers when she talks and she twirls her hair...incessantly. I'm not sure why, but the fact that I know she's nervous right now makes me smile. It lets me know that she still cares.
I can't stop staring at her. My eyes roam freely from top to bottom and she stands there quietly, letting me take my fill. She's so fucking gorgeous, and the fact that she's completely oblivious to it makes her that much more attractive.
I’m well aware
that I have a huge grin on my face and it probably looks ridiculous, but I don't give a shit. Harley came down here to have lunch me. This is a huge step. I can't even describe what it means to me that she took that initiative.
Harley leans in, lifting her hand to my bicep and my heart starts pounding on contact. "We should get going. I've only got an hour."
"Right." I open the door and gesture for her to go in front of me. The side of her mouth ticks up and she walks through the door, giving me a slight curtsy once she’s out in the hall.
I follow behind her for a few steps and allow myself the chance to watch her. Harley is of average height, maybe five feet six inches. She has curves in all the places that a healthy woman should have curves and they are sexy as hell. My eyes drift downward, catching sight of the way her hips sway with each step. It's like she's floating. What the fuck is wrong with me? Floating? A brief shake of my head and two quick strides puts me next to her, and I nudge her gently with my shoulder. "I'm glad you decided to come have lunch with me."
"Me too." She nudges back, a playful smile sliding across her face. Her smile alone makes my heart flop around in my chest. It's infectious, and the two dimples that perfectly frame her amazing mouth only add to the effect. Why the hell didn't I notice all these things five years ago?
Something stirs deep inside of my body—a pull. A pull to be near her and touch her. My arm grazes hers as we walk and she smiles coyly without looking up. Her smile makes me happy...it always has. I dreamt of it several times over the years, and I’m overjoyed to finally see it again. I need to see her smile like this every day.
We both walk through the cafeteria line and Harley grabs a turkey sandwich and apple as I reach for the same. She finds us a table while I grab our bottles of water.
"So..." I pull out my chair and sit down as Harley bites into her apple. "This is way better than dog nuts, right?" I ask teasingly. Her eyes widen and she chokes back a laugh as a small piece of her apple flies from her mouth. I can't help but chuckle at the horror that crosses her face as she lifts her hand to her mouth.
"I can't believe I did that," she mumbles while giggling around the apple and through her hand. Her eyes shine with delight and a warm feeling settles in my chest.
"You can't believe you spit your apple at me?" I ask, amused. “Or that you told me you were going to eat dog nuts for lunch?"
"Both! And I didn't spit my apple at you," she says, throwing her napkin at my face. I catch it with a laugh. “And I wish I had actual buttons back, not these damn pictures of buttons." Lifting her hand, she inspects her fingers. "My fingers must be too fat because I think I'm hitting the letter ‘d’ and I really hit an ‘f.’"
"There's not an ounce of fat on your body, Harley." She smiles sweetly but doesn't respond and we both begin eating our lunch in comfortable silence.
I can't believe that I ever thought I could actually walk away from this...from her. I should have fought for Harley. The second she told me she loved me, I should have wrapped her in my arms and accepted what she was offering—her heart.
Instead, I threw it back in her face, making her feel like she did something wrong. The fact of the matter is that I was a scared little shit.
