Page 80 of Love Sick

Hip cocked, Grace inspects me, so I begrudgingly put on the mask and raise my hood.

Her face lights up. “Kylo Ren?”

I grunt.

“The scion of darkness himself?”

“Can we go?”

She latches onto my arm. “Take a picture with me.”

“What? No.” I back away, still attached to her.

“Please, Julian? I must chronicle my meeting of Ben Solo.”

I try to free my arm from her grasp, but she tugs, so I spin and she launches onto my back, taking selfies while I struggle to remove my mask.

She’s giggling next to my ear, arms around my shoulders, and the length of her exquisite body is pressed into my back.

Maybe Tori was right…

Is this a signal?

I give up the struggle. “You got your picture, okay? Do you need a piggyback to my truck?”

Still laughing, she returns the phone to her corset, slides off me and locks her apartment, sliding the key beside her breast as well. What else does she keep in there? Are there hidden storage containers in dresses I’m not aware of?

“Thanks for DD’ing,” she says once we’re on our way.

I offered on impulse, thinking solely of the drive to and from Asher’s, knowing I’d have her to myself. If I’m going to pursue this, I should probably work up the courage to make a real move at some point, though. This is sort of a sissy way to go about things. A little pathetic.

The fear of rejection is high-key terrifying—having to work with her for two more years, wanting her while she’s all awkward about it. No thanks.

“Sure,” I say, glancing at her profile. “You excited?”

Devil-red lips curve into a bright smile. “Oh yeah. Asher has promised me this will be a good time.”

My stomach decides right that moment to cramp painfully. What else has Asher promised her? It’s been months since he declared his interest, and nothing. Well, Ithinknothing. Maybe they’re in a secret relationship and blissfully in love. Maybe he’s in her bed every night, waiting for her to finish studying with me so he can make her moan. Or maybe he already tried, and she turned him down. That thought cheers me.

We can’t help but argue over the music for the rest of the ride, and she skips off to find the girls as soon as we arrive. I lose track of her when Maxwell and I fall deep into a game of poker with a few others. The party is massive. Residents from all specialties filter through the house, as do most of our attendings and some nurses.

Once the poker game fizzles, I dive into the drunken fray. Raven and Alesha are dressed as the other Sanderson sisters, and close to midnight, all three of them take to the karaoke machine set up in the living room. They sway to “You Don’t Own Me” by Lesley Gore, their skirts brushing the floor.

Afterward, Asher hops onstage with them, and they sing “Come Little Children” which is much darker and has far more verses than I thought. I refill my glass with soda as they sing. Grace’s voice is melodic, almost haunting.

Sticky liquid spills onto my hand when my cup overflows. I curse and snatch a paper towel to clean the mess. When I lift my gaze once more, Grace leans in to share a mic with Asher, smiling while they sing together.

Ugh.

A twisting pain beneath my ribs has me eyeing the rows of liquor. A drink would be nice to take the edge off. Instead, I head outside. Several of us congregate around the firepit, chatting. It takes everything in me to strangle my groan when Rebecca sidles up to my side. She’s a chief resident now, so her free time is abundant, and she still drops hints about her interest on the reg.

I’d heard she found herself a boyfriend, but if the gleam in her eye is any indication, she’s free tonight.

She smiles. “Hey, Julian.”

“Hey, Becca. Having fun?”

“Eh.” She grimaces. “I’m DD, so…”

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