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“Right.” I tip my mug in his direction, needing to get out of this room. “Anyway. Better get back to it. Have some things to finish up before I go home.”
“Of course, of course,” Dennis says with a wave. “Good to see you again, Mack.”
I nod, because I can’t possibly return the sentiment, escaping the lounge with my cup in hand as I release a measured breath. I really,reallydon’t like that guy. I can see why Noah doesn’t either.
Thoughts of Noah tug at something inside, Dennis’s talk of thepossibility of Noah moving and the reminder that it’s been a possibility since this... thing we’re doing started—it causes a twinge in my chest that doesn’t go away even when I rub my hand there. If my mood weren’t suddenly so dour, I’d be texting Noah making a joke about needing a consultation. As it is, I walk in the direction of the nurses’ station with slow steps, my thoughts scattered, bouncing around in my head with nowhere to settle.
I can imagine it would be hard for you if he took the job.
It’s funny, until Dennis said it... it never occurred to me that it would be.
?“This show iscompletely inaccurate.”
I grin at Noah from my side of my small couch, fighting the urge to laugh at his disgusted expression aimed toward my television.
“It’s not supposed to be accurate,” I tell him. “It’s supposed to be dramatic.”
He makes an indignant sound, folding his arms across his chest and spreading his legs out further in front of him in a move that shouldn’t be as sexy as it is. My couch isn’t the largest piece of furniture out there, but with Noah on it, it looks downright small.
It’s been days since my run-in with Dennis, and I haven’t been able to make myself bring any of it up to Noah. It’s our first shared day off since the weekend I stayed over, and I’m not exactly dying to ruin it with talks about his least favorite person at the hospital or my growing insecurities about what we are and what his possible new job might mean for... whatever this is. It doesn’t sound like afun conversation in my head, and I can’t imagine it being any better spoken out loud.
And besides, I’ve realized these last few days that the possibility of bringing it up only for Noah to brush it off would be far more painful than it has any right to be. Because what if he gets freaked out that I’m even worrying about it? This entire thing between us was built on a lie, and just because he asked me ononereal date doesn’t mean he’s ready to propose or anything.
Not that Iwanthim to.
Jesus. My brain is a mess.
“Did you see that?” Noah points at the screen, his brow knitted together. “He just touched his arm after scrubbing up for surgery. That’s a contamination hazard!”
“I’m sure they were really worried about medical accuracy when writing Derek Shepherd’s character,” I laugh.
“And that woman is wearing earrings in an OR,” he grumbles. “Seriously, who wrote this shit?”
“You know, I’m starting to wonder why I thought it would be a good idea to watch this with you.”
He catches my eye, a sheepish half smile curving on one side of his lip. “Sorry.”
“Nah. You’re cute when you’re grumpy.”
He frowns. “I’m not cute.”
“I think so.” I scoot across the inches of couch that separate us, leaning into him to brush my lips across his cheek. “Adorable, really.”
He turns his face just enough to let my mouth catch at the corner of his. “Mhm.”
“We can watch something else.”
“It’s fine,” he murmurs. “I’ll try not to be too critical.”
“The day you stop being critical is the day I start worrying about your health,” I tease.
“My mother says something similar,” he huffs. “Often.”
“Oh? Your mom isn’t as... rigid as you are?”
I waggle my brows on the last word, and he rolls his eyes. “My mother doesn’t know the meaning of the word.” He eyes me speculatively. “She’s much more like you, if I’m being honest.”
“Like me?”
