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I brought her face back to me. “I told you my one and only rule this morning: don’t lie. That’s it. If you want to talk to me when I’m not busy, then talk to me. I’m not going to broadcast that we are…a couple, but if people find out, I really don’t care. I’m not Sebastian, and I would hate it if I were being compared to him in your mind.”
“You don’t compare me to Hannah?”
“I don’t think about her. I think about you, just you. That’s why I’m here. Can’t you tell? I grow more attracted to you with each passing second. Catch up.”
“How are you doing it?” she whispered, her eyes dropping to my lips. “Why am I all of a sudden thinking about you like this? We should be going slow, getting to know each other…”
“Maybe it’s because we’ve already been doing that for weeks,” I told her.
“I should still make you work for me, right?”
She is too close. “Fine. I get off at eight. Late dinner? I’ll cook.”
“It’s our first date, then,” she said, taking off her seatbelt as we arrived.
Opening the door for us, I took her hand to help her out and thanked the driver.
She glanced at our hands and smirked, but didn’t say anything.
Only when we were inside the blue and white building did we break apart.
“Let me know before you leave?” I asked.
She nodded, waving. “Looking forward to it, Dr. Davenport,” she replied, heading to the wall.
I watched as she grabbed her headphones from her backpack and placed them over her ears. She danced as she walked like she didn’t care who saw her, just kept bobbing her head.
“Is that the artist your mother brought in?” Dr. Seo asked, coming in on my right. As we watched, she took off her jacket and dropped it to the ground beside her, leaving her in just a tank top and jean shorts.
“Yes—”
“Interesting.” He tilted his head to the side, watching her. “Go ahead, mate. It looks like I need to go introduce myself.”
He stopped when I put my hand on his shoulder.
“What?”
“You can say hello to her, but if you try to go beyond that, you’ll regret it. Enjoy your day of facelifts and silicone breasts.” I turned, starting up the stairs.
Sadly, he followed me up two at a time. “She’s not even your type.”
“Female is my type, didn’t you know?” I replied, heading to the locker room.
He snickered, pulling his hair up into a ponytail. “I bet you I can get her to go on a date faster than your cruel, stiff sel
f.”
“Really? How much are we talking about?” I lifted my shirt and pulled out my scrubs.
“The usual $5K, and this time the loser has to dye his hair.”
Idiot. “Fine. Shake on it.” I offered my hand.
When he took it, I said, “I think pink would look nice. How about you?”
“Fine, as long as you are willing to bleach that dark hair of yours.” He still didn’t get it. Pulling out my phone, I video-chatted her.
“Eli?” She stared, confused.
