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“Have you ever been a drug user?”
“Just for a few years,” I joke, although his face remains expressionless. Squirming in my chair, I sigh. “That was a joke.”
Jaxon places a cup of coffee in front of me on the table, and shoots me an unimpressed stare. “Answer the question, Sasha.”
“No. I’ve never been a drug user,” I smugly answer.
The doctor secures the sheet of paper back into the folder, before drawing several vials of blood from me. After cleaning up his sterile surface, he places the biohazard bags along with the folder into a black briefcase.
He holds out his hand to Jaxon, and they firmly shake.
“The test results should be back by tomorrow,” Dr. Winchester explains. “Two days at the most.”
“Excellent. Thank you.”
“Of course.”
Dr. Winchester leaves shortly after, and I can’t help becoming nervous at the thought of what he’s going to say to me about last night.
Sitting across from me, his eyes lock with mine.
He says nothing.
He just watches me sip my coffee.
Watches me fidgeting with my mug, sliding it back and forth on the table. Blowing on it every so often to cool the temperature, sipping it uncaringly. Watches me nearly burn my lips and tongue in the process.
Watches me squirm uncomfortably in my chair, feeling like I’m damn near about to lose my mind.
The silence is deafening.
Until, finally, I can’t bear it anymore.
“You wanted to talk?”
“Yes,” he says, his voice low. Tight.
“About last night?”
He nods once.
Releasing an anxious breath, I focus on the steam from the coffee. “I’ve never experienced anything like that before—”
“—You defied me.”
Staring at him from across the table, I frown. “I did.”
“On purpose,” he adds in. “Why?”
Swallowing hard, I shake my head. “I’m not sure.”
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?”
His eyes turn to slits, and he slowly leans forward, resting his arms on the table. Pressing his hands together, he intertwines his long, lean fingers.
And he shoots me daggers with his eyes.
