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“You haven’t had rotation there yet?” I asked stupidly.
“Nah, right now I’m in cardiothoracics...it’s interesting and all, but I think it might be a little too intense for me.”
I knew what he meant—a lot of people were scared to operate on the heart or lungs, even though every area of surgery had its own risks and challenges that could be equally dangerous.
“It can be intense, yeah. I kind of like it—that whole thing with the artificial heart has been justawesome.”
“Oh yeah! You were on that case, weren’t you?”
I grinned broadly, chest puffing with pride.
“I was! It was amazing to watch—seeing Dr. Price work like that was like watching art being created.”
“I can imagine. I’m not sure what to make of Dr. Price though; are you?”
“He’s alright,” I said carefully.
I had to make sure I didn’t let anything slip.
“He’s a genius and all. I mean, did you read his article on LVADs and how we need to specialize them to be a longer term solution for transplant candidates? I wonder if he’ll write something similar for artificial hearts. It’s just, he’s a little much—he’s all joking and cocky one moment and very serious and in boss mode the next, you know?”
I nodded but couldn’t respond. I couldn’t tell him that I’d rarely seen “boss mode” Adrian.
“Well, if you think cardio is intense, just wait until your antenatal rotation!” I offered, changing the subject.
Thankfully, George took the bait, and nodded, telling me just how scary that would be, but I was hardly listening. My mind had turned to channel Adrian and was comparing the man in front of me with him. George spoke more than Adrian, and I tried to tell myself that it wasn’t a bad thing. It just wasn’tmything. He kept going on about antenatal surgery, to the point where I just couldn’t care about it. Where his eyes were dark, Adrian’s were blue, and I missed the way I could fall into the still waters that were his gaze. George was also clean-shaven, and I wondered if it would be like kissing a boy, rather than a man. I’d had kisses before Adrian’s, but strangely, I couldn’t recall the sensation of them.
“I’m sorry,” I interrupted. “I just need to get another drink. Do you want anything?”
George shook his head, and I hopped off my stool to go get another drink, leaving the man behind me confused and losing his train of thought. It had been rude of me to interrupt, but he was scrambling the signal to channel Adrian. Apparently, my brain wasn’t having any of it. I ordered another drink, headed back to the table, and tried to tune out my stupid old brain. He was smiling at me while he spoke, and I did my best to focus on the way his cheeks dimpled when he did so. It really was unfair—not how attractive he was, but how I wasn’t allowed to enjoy his beauty when he was clearly into me.
At another break in the conversation, I downed my second drink and excused myself to the bathroom.
I stared at the girl in the mirror again and tried to get her to give up her struggle. She still wasn’t me. Her cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, her eyes were shiny, and she was more than a bit tipsy from her second double Bacardi. I thought I could see the stars in my own damn eyes. They looked like the water had, that night I’d met Adrian by the marina.
Frustrated, I knew I had to do something, so I reinforced the belief I had carried around with myself all week—that I was a strong, powerful, independent woman and that I could manage anything I wanted to. With that same determination thrumming through my veins, I marched out of the bathroom, up to the man I was on a date with and kissed him.
Kissing George was nothing like kissing Adrian, but it wasn’t unpleasant. There wasn’t the electric pulse that skittered through my body with the latter, but I still felt the physical chemistry of two bodies meeting. George was into it and pulled me to stand between his legs while holding my face oh so tenderly. He wasn’t a bad kisser either. I could do this, I could do this, I could do this.
“Come back to my place,” I gasped, mentally cursing Jack for predicting my actions.
Chapter Fourteen
Adrian
Melissa was great.
She was everything I could have possibly asked for and then some. She was well established, she knew what she wanted, she wouldn’t take crap from anyone, and she was stunningly beautiful.
But there was something missing.
Our dinners together were great. She would come to the hospital and meet me for lunch, for dinner, and a few times for breakfast (basically whenever my shift ended). We’d go to the nearest place. We’d talk, and talk, andtalk, and it was amazing.
But nothing ever came after.
I couldn’t bring myself to move us forward, to take her back to my place and sleep with her, to initiate physical contact beyond the friendly hugs we traded when we met.
“My father wants to meet you,” Melissa sprung on me one night. “He wants to know about my new boyfriend.”
