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Chapter five
Curiosity Kills the Cat
Stacy
Until the day the last of the nurses were to arrive for the exchange program, I spent more time with Ethan. Working, of course.
"We have to get back to work," he sighed. He read through research papers, while I rubbed his shoulders.
"It's nine pm," I pointed out. "There aren't a lot of patients and most of the doctors and nurses can handle them; there's literally nothing to do now."
"I normally study," he said.
"You've been on this page for the past ten minutes," I sighed. "Something's on your mind."
"No, it's nothing really," he pronounced.
He had been like this for some time after he kissed me in my office. He didn't flirt like he used to, but he didn't stop entirely. It just felt to me that he was worried about something that he didn't want to tell me.
"Are you still bummed about the mistake with the extra nurse issue?" I asked.
"Hmm? Well, no. We've already resolved that anyway," he replied.
"That's it, get up and get dressed in your normal clothes," I frowned.
"What? Why?" He raised a brow.
"Just do it, Ethan?" I sighed.
"If you say so," he shrugged and took off his shirt.
"At least wait till I go get changed or something," I said as I watched his scrubs drop to the floor.
"I'll go get changed as well. Meet me outside in ten minutes."
"Alright boss," he teased.
****
I was outside. I changed into my casual clothes: a knee-length dress with a flowery pattern and a jacket to keep me warm from the night air. The streets were still busy but none of our ambulances were coming in or leaving. Ethan had always said that was a good sign.
Understandable.
As doctors, we made people better and got paid for it. But it wasn't a profession that one would pray to have more patients. If you understand what I mean. Most of our time as doctors is involved in saving lives or studying new methods to save lives. Ethan spent his free time practicing his stitches, looking out for new equipment to aid his accuracy and performance.
It was inspiring to watch. I'd find myself fired up after seeing him dedicated to improving his craft. My only worry was the fact that he didn't seem as focused as he was before. He needed a change of pace. I was going to help him find it.
"Where are we going?" he asked, "and why can't we take my car?"
"We're getting fresh air," I replied, "and some exercise."
A car with a sputtering engine drove past us leaving exhaust fumes in its wake.
"I wouldn't call this air fresh," he said and rubbed his shoulders. "It's cold tonight."
"Here," I offered him my hand. "It'll help keep you warm."
"My hand maybe, what about the rest of me?" he asked.
