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A few cameras snap some pictures, and Jewel looks over at them. Welcome to the gossip column, Jewel.
I lean forward and whisper in her ear, “Hide your nametag until they’re gone.”
Her eyes widen as if a bear is behind her, ready to kill.
The gossip blogs and those who read them will likely shred her like a bear if they find out who she is. So many women are so protective of me, though they don’t even know me. Jewel is innocent and doesn’t need to be brought into it.
“Are you guys ready?” Elle comes over and looks at Jewel for a moment before smiling. “Thank you for grabbing more.” She helps Jewel put the boxes on the table with the rest of the extra supplies.
“Okay, we need two chairs. Should we put them next to one another?” a woman who works for the hospital asks as they reconfigure how they’re going to get Bradley and me in the photo.
I’m more than aggravated at this point.
“I don’t want it in my right, that’s my dominant arm,” Bradley says.
“Well, I can’t get it in my right, it’s my throwing arm,” I counter.
“We’ll just have to put someone between them,” someone suggests.
A woman I recognize from years past as being the PR rep for the hospital appears from nowhere to tell us her opinion. “And lose this great shot? No way. These two side-by-side will sell the public on getting their flu shot.”
I’m not budging. There’s no way I’m gonna play with a sore arm.
“It shouldn’t be sore more than a couple days,” Ellery says.
Neither of us says a word.
She gives me “the look.” The one that usually gets me to do just about anything for her. But not this time. Let Dreamboy take the hit—he’s the one getting all the benefits.
I run my hand down my face because I don’t think like this. At least I never used to. I’m way more upset about this relationship than I should be.
“I’ll get it in my right.” Bradley smiles as though he just disarmed a bomb and saved us. Get a grip, you’re a football player.
We sit in the chairs, a nurse on either side of us as the cameras and video people all get their shots. The nurses inject us, and neither of us flinches.
Ellery gets in front of the cameras, standing right in front of us. She’s wearing her white coat and long pants with the clogs she loves so much. One Christmas, I gave her clogs with my number on them, but I rarely see her wear them.
“And it’s as simple as that. Just a moment of your time to protect you and those you love from the flu virus this season.”
The nurse puts the Band-Aid on me as Ellery finishes. Then they open the doors and the public files in, picking up clipboards to fill out paperwork.
Bradley seeks out Ellery, but she’s busy, and he’s only going to piss her off. I learned that year one. I make my way around all the stations, saying hello, signing some autographs, and snapping selfies with people while making sure to show the sticker on my shirt that says I got my flu shot. Hopefully the more pictures that are shared, the more it will remind people to get the shot themselves.
Eventually, Bradley discovers what I could have told him—Ellery has no time for him.
“So, what do you do now?” he asks, looking around.
“You just socialize. She’s done in a few hours.” I shrug.
“Really? That long? I figured she’d start this off and be done, have others be in charge.”
I look at him pointedly. “How many dates have you been on with her?”
“More than you.”
I raise my eyebrows, and he laughs, knocking his shoulder into mine. Fucker.
“I’m kidding. Seriously, it’s intimidating how well you two know one another,” he says. “If I have to hear one more time, ‘Cooper and I…’ I’m going to go berserk.”
