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“How did it happen?”
“Fireworks. And some stupid boys from the neighborhood.” I honestly didn’t remember the details anymore and only knew what my parents had told me.
“How old were you?”
“Six.”
He held my stare as he breathed in and out five times. I counted, watching his chest rise and fall before he finally spoke. “Are you scared of fireworks now?”
A small laugh tumbled past my lips. No one had ever asked me that. “No. I enjoy them but only from a safe distance.”
“Did the doctors save you that night?”
The waiter reappeared with our drinks, and we offered each other a cheers before taking a sip. He had ordered me some sort of red-blend wine that had been chilled and was exploding in my mouth.
“I’ve never had red wine chilled before,” I said, and he smirked. I wanted to reach out and run my hand across his jawline but refrained.
“It’s not a typical practice, but I prefer it that way,” he said, “even though most people say I’m drinking it wrong.”
I giggled. Actually, freaking giggled. “I’m not sure there’s a wrong way to drink good wine.”
“I’m glad you like it.” He took another sip before placing it down in front of him. “You didn’t answer my question about the doctors. Did they save you and that’s what made you want to become one?”
“The doctors did save me. And I’m still self-conscious about the burn area. You’ll never see me in a bikini or a crop top.”
“I bet no one but you would even notice,” Joseph said, and it was a sweet notion, but it was a lie.
My mind tossed me back in time to being a teenager and having my first boyfriend. I remembered the look on his face when his hands had run across my bare stomach, and apparently, it didn’t feel right. He lifted my shirt without asking, looked underneath, and asked me what the hell happened to my skin. He wasn’t kind or understanding. He’d been disgusted and a blabbermouth, telling everyone at school that something was wrong with me and they should stay away unless they wanted to catch “shark skin.”
Up until a few years ago, that was exactly how a part of me had always felt—disgusting and different. Med school had changed all that for me. I was always grateful that I’d been saved as a kid and that the grafts had worked, but I’d never truly felt pretty in my own skin. Learning all about our bodies and the miraculous things they could do to heal themselves made me feel something new entirely about what mine had done for me. Sure, I had some imperfections, but who didn’t? And being alive was worth the scars.
As the night went on, Joseph became my lifeline in a sea where I might have otherwise drowned—the constant stares, the not-so-stealthy cell phone photographs, et cetera. He made being with him easy, effortless, and I almost forgot that what we were doing wasn’t real, that this wasn’t a true first date with a man who wanted to get to know the real me because we hoped we could fall in love one day.
Ugh.My feelings were already messing with my head, and I realized in that instant that they were going to be hard to control.
IT’S NOT REAL
JOSEPH
The idea that Sutton had been burned as a kid and dealt with scars her whole life…affected me. I could tell that she was hurt. Or had been hurt in the past. Most likely by idiot guys who were too stupid and shallow to see past the marks on the outside of her body and look inside. It didn’t take much work to know that Sutton was smart, driven, ambitious and fucking awesome. She was nothing like I’d always thought she was—an evil fire-starting troll.
So, I sent her a text message the moment she walked through the doors of her apartment building, thanking her for the incredible evening. She responded immediately, and I knew that we were both feeling the same kinds of things. I’d actually enjoyed myself with her, forgetting half the time that I was paying her to do this favor for me.
Our date had felt so natural, not forced in any way. It had been genuine and good.
But it wasn’t, and I needed to remember that.
All of this was a facade, a charade, a game we were playing, where I needed to keep a level head in order to win.
The next morning, I woke up to pictures of Sutton and me all overPage Six, the actual newspaper and online. My phone had blown up overnight, but I’d silenced it. If I didn’t do that each night, I’d never get any sleep.
A text from my mom stood out at the top of my list.
Is this the woman you’ve been dating? She’s quite beautiful. And familiar.
I wanted to say yes, but Sutton still hadn’t officially agreed to attend Social Month with me. We hadn’t signed any contracts or made any arrangements. The last thing I wanted to do was jinx it, so I didn’t respond at all, knowing that I’d have to deal with her wrath later.
When I stepped off the elevator, both my mother and Kayla were waiting for me.
