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Trying in vain to fight back the wave of anxiety I get from moments like this, I collapse into one of the sleek white armchairs clustered around the lobby. They seriously left without me? I have my phone on me. They could have texted, called….
"Isobel?" My heart leaps as I turn in my seat to face Judah, who is standing just behind my chair dressed in the same shorts and plain white t-shirt which fit him so well it should be criminal. How can he walk around looking like that and expect anyone to get anything done?
I never understood the point of the extra n's tacked on to the end of the worddamnnnnuntil I met him.
I look around the lobby for the rest of our families, but he's alone. "Did you miss them too?"
Judah smiles wryly and shakes his head. "There was some debate on whether we should wait for you. I said I would and take you myself." There's a hint of disapproval in his tone that suggests he thinks theyallshould have waited, and my whole body feels suddenly warm in a way that has nothing to do with the resort's tropical climate.
"You didn't have to do that."
He shakes his head, still looking annoyed, and walks over to take the seat across from mine. "We were doing something for the wedding, Isobel. Theyallshould have waited."
"Surgeons aren't known for their flexibility." I huff, playing with the hem of my shorts as I try not to stare at the way the sleeves of his t-shirt stretch just a little over his biceps.
I really noticed it at dinner the first night we were here, but it strikes me again that Judah doesn't seem to have a problem with just… looking at me. He doesn't glance around the room, at his phone, or at people around me. It's a little disarming, but I kind of like it too. I don't have to wonder if he's listening.
Leaning forward, Judah smiles slightly, his eyes searching my face. "So, I wanted to ask you, why medical school?"
I blink in surprise. Of all the things I expected to come out of his mouth, that wasn't one of them. Did Harvard send him as an undercover admissions agent or something? "You're a physician. Do you regret it?"
"Of course not. It's not for everyone, though, obviously."
"It's for me. I'm a good student." I bite back, suddenly defensive. Does he think I'm not up to the task? My stomach drops to the floor. He barely even knows me. How could he possibly make that judgment? Is there something about my face that screams"incompetent idiot"? I'm pretty confident that most of my family thinks that's exactly what I am, I've known that for a long time, so why does it sting so much that Judah does too?
His eyes flash. "I didn't say that you weren't. You're clearly intelligent, Isobel. I didn't mean to suggest otherwise-"
"We should go if we're going to catch up to them." I stand up quickly, hitching my backpack over my shoulder, desperate to leave this conversation behind. "Did you return the resort's courtesy car or-" but when I make to turn toward the entrance of the resort, a large warm hand closes on my wrist. My head whips around automatically, staring back into Judah's bright blue eyes, which are widened in surprise, as though he's just as surprised as I am to find his hand on me.
"I'm sorry." His hand drops away immediately, but just like when he held my hand on the airport shuttle and when he touched my back at the flower shop this morning, the warmth of it lingers on my skin. "I realize how that might have sounded as though I were…. I wasn't doubting you. You'll make an excellent physician if that's what you want."
I square my jaw defiantly and want more than anything to spit out that it's the most important thing in my life, that I eat, sleep, and breathe it the way he and my family do, but I can't quite manage to say the words. Clearing my throat, I nod in silent acceptance of his apology. "Itiswhat I want."
What is it about this man that makes me incapable of lying my ass off? I've been doing it all my life, to myself, my parents, and the whole world. So why can't I open my mouth and tell my sister's future father-in-law that I want to be a doctor, that I want it more than anything, and I doodle little stethoscopes on all my school papers?
Judah's eyes search my face, and after what feels like an age, he finally nods. "Okay."
"Okay." I agree, folding my arms over my chest and trying not to look like I'm on the verge of unraveling.
He gives me a smile that I don't return, hating that my heart flutters at how it deepens the little wrinkles which appear at the corners of his eyes when he does. "Let's head out, then. I picked up some bottled water for both of us-"
"I'm actually going to head back to my bungalow."
Judah's face falls, and I feel a sick lurch of regret. This man, this sweet, considerate, amazing man, is going to walk around all day feeling like shit because he thinks he offended me when in reality, this begins and ends with me. The only thing Judah did wrong was try to be nice to me. As if I needed more proof that I have no business wanting him the way I do.
The thought makes my heart ache, and my fingernails bite into my palms.
"Isobel-" He starts to say, but I'm already backing away, desperate to get as far away as possible.
Every instinct I have is screaming -RUN!-and for once this week, I have no intention of ignoring it. "I'll see you at dinner. I think Evie's having the kitchen prepare our great-grandmother's kugel recipe, so that should be… um, interesting."
I hate him. I hate how good my name sounds on his lips and how he won't stop looking at me. I don't want his concern or his care or that hint of something deeper I don't dare acknowledge. I don't even know him. We met three days ago, and in that time, he's managed to make me completely lose the grip of control I had on my emotions. Why is he doing this to me? Why won't he juststop?
Outside, the humidity is already starting to descend on the resort, and I move so fast that my back is sticky by the time I make it back to my bungalow. Just for something to do other than think about what transpired between me and Judah, I flip open my laptop again and refresh my email. I'm sure it didn't arrive in the past five minutes,but….It did. Right there, between a promotional email for a t-shirt company and an automated reminder I have a dentist appointment next week, an unopened message from the Harvard University Admissions Office.
Oh my god.
My fingers feel clumsy and awkward as I open it and click the link provided, my heart beating wildly.
