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“Kiss you?”
His tone sounds surprised, which under the circumstances is expected. What I notice, and what also pushes me forward, is the lack of disgust in his voice. There’s no ew, gross, never vibes coming from him. Because apparently, in my head, Graham is still a teenager.
I inch even closer, placing my hands on his broad chest. This one act is so brazen for me that I almost turn and run.
I don’t, though. I swallow hard and look up at the man I’m currently in the supply room with. It’s Graham. I know him. Sort of. We go way back. Sort of. We do go way back, except I hardly know anything about him. Even back then I didn’t.
“Why?” he finally asks me.
Why? Right now, I have no idea. I’m stuck on the fact that he didn’t say no.
I lick my lips as he turns his head away from me, and I catch what seems like a pained look. His throat bobs.
“I was—” I stop myself, trying to think of the words. “Issued a challenge.”
He looks back at me. “What kind of challenge? To kiss someone in the supply room?”
“Not exactly.”
He reaches up and runs a hand down his face; it’s an exasperated move, like he doesn’t know what to do with me. But there’s no repulsion there, no aversion.
“It’s just a favor, no strings attached,” I assure him. “It goes no further than this.”
Graham places his hands on my shoulders and I think, This is it. I’m actually going to do this. I look up into his eyes, watching for a signal from him for what to do next, since I honestly have no idea. When it comes to romantic escapades and the opposite sex, let’s just say I don’t have all that much experience.
He looks at me, his eyes intent, but in the next second he’s looking away. “This ... is a bad idea,” he says, and my stomach turns.
“Graham, it’s just a kiss,” I say, now feeling irritated that he thinks this is a bad idea. It is, all around. I 100 percent agree. But it’s also not that big of a deal. I bet he’s kissed lots of med students in supply rooms. Maybe Grey’s Anatomy is accurate, but just not at this hospital.
“Thank of it as a favor for an old friend,” I say. I’m in too deep. I’m not giving up now.
His right eyebrow lifts up, just slightly. “Are we friends?”
“Of course,” I say. I’m not entirely sure that’s what’s happening here. But it could be. We could be friends.
“Lucy, I—”
The rattling of the door handle stops him from saying whatever he was going to say, and both of our eyes snap toward it.
“This stupid thing,” a muffled voice says, and dread instantly flows through my body, from my head to my feet. I’d know that voice anywhere; it haunts my nightmares, in fact.
Evie. Of all the people who’d try to get into this closet right now, why did it have to be her?
The door handle rattles again.
Graham curses under his breath. My eyes go wide, not at his words but because I’d been thinking the same ones. This is bad. This is very bad.
“Can we hide?” I ask quietly, looking around the space. It only takes a second to see that there’s no place to go. We’re sitting ducks.
“This piece of crap,” Evie says, and the handle rattles some more. Getting caught fraternizing is not good, but getting caught by Evie would be even worse. Super-duper, terribly, horribly bad. I could lose my job. In my experience, her bark is worse than her bite, but I just know she wouldn’t overlook this.
“Got any ideas?” I ask Graham.
He shakes his head. “We could tell her the truth?”
“The truth?” I whisper harshly.
“The otoscope?”
