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I blink quickly and look away before she catches me staring. “Is this wise?”
“We have all this time on our hands, so why shouldn’t we make it a little more interesting?”
It has been interesting. My entire life has been flipped upside down since the show began, and it’s all due to this woman beside me. This incredibly sexy-as-fuck but scary-as-hell woman. I don’t know what to do with her. I’m afraid, but hell if I’m going to admit that to her.
Her cheeks are flushed as she pours the liquid into the glasses, and then she turns to me.
“Okay, it’s time.” She tucks her feet underneath her, sitting on her heels on top of the couch cushion. She places her hands together in between her legs and then levels me with a look.
“Is this the contest? Starting now?”
She doesn’t answer me, only continues to stare, and I want to grin at the silliness of it all, but I decide to see where this goes. I press my lips together and let my eyes fasten on hers. I’m still lounging against the back of the couch, my arms spread, one along the back and one on the armrest. Her face doesn’t move, but I can tell her breathing speeds up. She’s more affected than she’s letting on.
I take in the color of her eyes—there’s not much else I can do while staring unblinkingly into them. They are a deep blue with tiny brown speckles that you could miss if you were only glancing at them. It’s different, entrancing, and I find myself drawing closer to her. My torso tilts, and my arms move from their resting positions as I widen my eyes, blinking.
“I win!” she yells, scaring the shit out of me, and I jump a little.
“Fuck,” I say, and she giggles.
She leans forward again, giving me another view straight down her shirt as she grabs the almost-full shot from the table in front of us. Then, she hands it to me.
“Bottoms up,” she says.
I toss it back. It burns, but I like it. I focus on it. I try to stay grounded and not give in to the raging prepubescent-like hormones trying to tear through my body and make me an animal. I want to pin her to the couch and explore her, taste her, drink her in. I bet she could make me drunker than this shot, just on her alone.
She steeples her hands, resting her chin on the pointed fingertips, and watches me. Her pink tongue slips out, wetting her bottom lip, and then she clears her throat.
“Tell me something you’ve never told anyone else,” she says, and I immediately regret playing this stupid game.
I know she said she wanted to learn my secrets, but actually having to open up and lay myself bare in front of her is daunting, and my stomach clenches, threatening to send the shot back up. I’m not good with being transparent or okay with knowing that someone else is walking the earth, knowing my struggles. I feel vulnerable.
Her blue eyes watch me, patient as I wrestle with my thoughts. She has a soft smile on her face, and I would rather cover it with my mouth than talk. That seems like a much better use of our time.
“Sometimes, as a doctor, I can’t leave my emotions at the door. I feel the parents’ pain and fear, much like it’s my own,” I say, surprising myself. I reach up and run my palm across my mouth, almost like I could tuck the words back in. I don’t know where it came from, but it’s the truth.
I’m great at being professional, but the life of being a surgeon and holding literal hearts in my hands can wear on me. There are many times I’ve been overcome with emotion on the drive home—to the point that I sit in my car for a while before going inside, trying to get myself together. It’s not easy, seeing the most vulnerable of our world at my mercy, knowing that I have to be on my game at all times, that they are depending on me.
Only me.
“Okay,” Alice says.
“That’s it? You aren’t going to ask any questions about it?”
“Do you want me to ask questions about it?” she asks, wrapping her hand around mine that’s closest to her.
The warmth of her palm sliding against my skin feels good. It feels really fucking good to be touched.
“I don’t know. I just didn’t think you would leave it at that.”
“You are opening up to me. I’m not going to press you for more than you are willing to give.”
I stare at her for a moment, and then with my free hand, I grab the second shot and down it too. It seems I need the courage to sit through this therapy session. She grins and pours two more. I ache at the loss of her touch, and I think about downing them as well. Maybe if I get hammered, I won’t have to answer any more questions.
“Okay, are you ready?” she asks.
I just nod.
As we lock eyes again, I think about our conversation in the car, where she talked about staring contests. Then, I know I’ve got her.
