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Cautious, his tongue flits over mine. I open, and he deepens the kiss, and it flows through my veins like an enigmatic song. He tastes like bourbon and freedom. My blood pulses and my heart hammers and my skin awakens. Inside my heart and head, fireworks explode in a haze of extraordinary color.
An elbow digs into my side. I lurch sideways, breaking our connection. Shouting and the shrill sound of noisemakers explode around us.
“Sorry,” someone shouts.
Ian raises his hands, clapping and shouting, just like all the others in the crowd. Dazed, I raise my hands and mimic him, joining in the throng. Someone beside me blows a noisemaker, creating a loud, piercing sound, and I remember I have one, too. As if reading my mind, Ian pulls it out of his trouser pocket, and I put it to my lips and blow through it until my lungs burn.
ChapterFour
Ian
The wise and experienced avoid hospitals on holidays as if they are ground zero for the next plague. On holidays, there’s a skeleton crew within the hallowed halls. Residents, namely folks fresh out of medical school and shy on experience, run the show.
New Year’s Day qualifies as a major holiday. When I woke to a text from a resident updating me that they caught my patient with four recently reattached fingers smoking, it required a personal visit. I couldn’t trust Francisco, a first-year, would convey the full gravity of the situation. The patient claims it was a celebratory smoke since he couldn’t have champagne. I told him I hoped it was worth going through life without those four fingers I spent hours reattaching.
Of course, I warned him at the time of surgery. And he claimed he wasn’t a smoker. I’d known he was lying by the stains on his teeth, but he had four fingers chopped off by a table saw sitting on ice and he seemed desperate. The carpenter’s livelihood was at stake.
Chances were a single cigarette wouldn’t hinder the blood flow to the four recently attached fingers, but he was set to be released today, and I had to drive the message home. Otherwise, he’d go home, continue smoking, and he’d be back in a week with four decaying fingers that I couldn’t save.
On my way out of the hospital, a second-year resident’s slightly panicked voice reaches me with the exit door in sight. “Dr. Duke. Is there any way—”
“I’m not here. You don’t see me,” I respond without looking back.
“But I’ve only done two appendectomies.”
“It’s up to you and your attendee.”
“But he’s—”
“It’s Independence Day, Omar. You got this.” He was going to say something along the lines of asshole or incompetent, and I might agree with either sentiment, but appendectomies stopped being my responsibility years ago.
Those nervous eyes tell me he doesn’t at all feel confident he has it, and the truth is he might not. But that’s how doctors learn. Watch. Do. Teach.
Back in my apartment, I slip off my shoes at the door. Light floods the living area and kitchen, but there is no sign of Sunny. The coffee mug I set beside the coffee machine remains untouched. I peek my head into the guest room.
A riot of golden hair covers the pillow. The comforter has been pushed to the side, and Sunny lies sprawled out on the bed in a silky white chemise. The thin material hugs her breasts so tightly the outline of her nipples peeks through. One milky thigh stretches across the sheet, and from this angle, it seems she might not be wearing panties. The smooth curve of her buttock, the juncture directly above her hamstrings, is a feast of smooth, flawless skin. Her chest lifts and falls slowly in the rhythm of peaceful slumber.
My teenage self would have snapped a photo and savored the image for years to come. But my adult self simply stands in the doorway, mesmerized, dick twitching, fighting a desire to climb into bed behind her and hold her, or…who am I kidding? I want to do much more than hold her. What I wouldn’t give to touch her, to cup her soft breast, to press my lips to her shoulder and nibble the delectable skin along the curve of her neck.
Especially after last night’s kiss. It required all my self-control to not grab her ass and pull her hard against my throbbing erection. She’d clearly been turned on, too. Her breath came out in quick, short spurts. Her pupils expanded, turning those blue eyes dark and hungry, and she’d gripped my shoulders as if she needed me for balance. But the celebration noise overwhelmed us, dragging us back into the moment, and with a few blinks and shoulder bumps from other parties, we were apart, clapping and shouting.
I took her by surprise with that out-of-line kiss. I’m not what she wants. She’s never seen me that way and never will. She’s got me locked in a special kind of friend zone. It’s one reserved for the little brothers of your exes.
Less than an hour after the kiss, Sunny sat on the stage, strumming someone else’s guitar, singing the familiarCloser to Fineby The Indigo Girls. I’d heard her play it ages ago, as it was one she struggled to master way back then.
The after-midnight act didn’t show, and John, the owner of Jack’s—yeah, go figure—asked anyone who wanted to fill in to come on up and start the new year showcasing their talents.
Sunny blew the whole room away. She only sang two songs, but she earned a standing ovation. And nearly every single man attempted to maneuver his way over to her. But she stepped off that stage and nestled up against me, uncomfortable with the attention. How the hell a woman like her was still single remained a mystery to me. Without a doubt, I’ll go to my grave wondering why my brother let her go. Mom used to say it was timing, but no, the guy’s a fool.
Sunny’s shoulder dips, and her arm stretches across the pillow in a languid movement. Long, golden strands fall over her face, and she rolls, a hand absently brushing them away. Her movements are my cue to back out of the room.
“Ian?”
Busted. “Yeah?” I push the door farther ajar. The shades are down, and the room is dark, but enough light escapes in the gaps along the sides to cast her in a haze of filtered sun.
“Why are you in scrubs?”
I glance down at my navy scrubs and socked feet. “Had to run in and chastise a patient.”
