Page 18 of False Assumptions

That same embarrassed smile came back, and she dropped her gaze. “Yeah. And Sherman Alexie is kind of my hero. I almost went to WSU to follow in his footsteps, but I got a better offer from Marycliff.”

“Well, I’m glad you came to Marycliff.”

Her eyes snapped to his, and he realized what he’d said. The surprise on her face morphed into something more serious, and she examined him before responding.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

The question caught him off guard. He switched which leg was crossed and folded his arms over his chest. “I’m a nice guy. Why wouldn’t I be nice to you?”

Again, she paused before answering. “Well, there’s the obvious reason that I haven’t been very nice to you.” He didn’t really have anything to say to that. “And I’ve built up an immunity to attractive, charming guys who are used to getting whatever girl they want.”

His nostrils flared. “Can you give that a rest? Seriously. I’m not out whoring around, getting panties thrown at me wherever I go. Yeah, fine, I like to have a good time. And there are plenty of girls who like to have a good time with me. It doesn’t mean I expect every single girl I smile at to sleep with me.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Christ on a cracker, you’ve made it abundantly clear that you’re not into me. I guess I thought it’d be easier to work on our project if we could get along.” He stood, pacing in the small space unoccupied by the hospital bed and other equipment. “Would you rather I’d left you out there on that trail to hobble to your car in the dark, hurting yourself worse? Or dumped you in the ER to find your own way home? Shit, Layla. What kind of a douchebag do you think I am?”

She held up her hands, her face repentant. “I’m sorry. I am,” she repeated when he gave her a doubtful look. “Thank you for helping me. I didn’t mean … Look, I’m just confused. Usually when I’m as bitchy to people as I have been to you, they steer clear, y’know? And here you are, still being nice to me—that last outburst aside—and I just don’t get it.”

He sat back down, scrubbing his hands over his face, suddenly really fucking tired. “There’s nothing to get, Layla. I’m not a fucking asshole. And I’m not that shithead you were talking about earlier. Sorry to disappoint you when you thought you had me all figured out.”

“I am sorry.” He almost didn’t hear her whisper. When he looked up, her arms were wrapped around her, and she was looking at the wall, blinking quickly. Dammit. Now he felt like a jackass.

“Hey. It’s … fine. How about we make a deal?” He waited for her to face him. “Let’s start over. No preconceptions about each other. Just two people who have to work together on a World Lit project. We treat each other like normal human beings. Okay?”

Her dark eyes examined him again, gauging his sincerity. He kept his face open and relaxed. Because this project was going to be horrible if they didn’t come to some kind of working agreement. He might’ve wanted to pick her up when he first saw her, but since she had absolutely zero interest in him, that feeling had passed. Mostly. At least, when she was being nice to him and not accusing him of being a diseased manwhore, he still thought she was pretty. But he wasn’t so much of a dumbass that he kept going after someone who was clearly uninterested. But was it too much to ask for her to be friendly? He didn’t think so.

Finally, she nodded. “Okay. I think I can manage that.” She stuck out a hand. “Hi. I’m Layla.”

He stood, slipping his palm against hers, her soft skin brushing against his calluses. “Hi. Evan. I’ve seen you around before, but never had a chance to meet you. I’m glad I finally did.”

She opened her mouth, her eyes narrowing, but she stopped herself before she said whatever she’d been going to say. “Nice to meet you too.”

He grinned. Before he could say anything else, the doctor came back. Evan resumed his seat in the chair by the wall.

“Well, Layla, it doesn’t look like it’s broken. But you do have a pretty bad sprain. Keep up with the standard rest, ice, compression, and elevation. Once you get home, prop it up and ice it for twenty minutes. Try to do it at least once more before bed. And then several times throughout the day tomorrow. See how it feels after that, and if you need to, you can get an ankle brace and some crutches. Stay off it as much as possible for the next few days, and go slow after that. It’ll take a while to heal.” The doctor offered his hand to each of them with a nod. “The nurse will be in with the papers in a minute. Sit tight, and we’ll have you out of here shortly.”

Layla nodded, sitting up and moving the blankets off her legs. “Thank you.”

Evan stood when the doctor left, going to Layla’s side, offering his hand. She looked at it, then up at his face, before accepting his help moving to the edge of the bed. She winced as her right foot slid into her shoe.

He had an almost overwhelming urge to comfort her in some way, but he managed to stop himself from reaching out to touch her shoulder or stroke her hair. They’d barely reached a tentative truce. Even though she accepted his help, that didn’t mean she’d accept his comfort. He cleared his throat, looking through the curtain to see if he could spot the nurse. “Do you have ibuprofen at home? You should take some when you get there.”

Her nose wrinkled, and she made a funny face. “Yeah. I think I have some.”

Crossing his arms, he regarded her as she sat back, propping herself up on her hands. “What was that face for?”

She shrugged, tilting her head to one side. “I don’t usually like taking stuff. But it hurts bad enough that I’ll make an exception.”

It was his turn to give her a funny look, but he let it go. The nurse came in with a wheelchair and a handful of papers that she handed to Layla. “Here are all your papers. It just describes what we did.” She flipped a few pages. “And here’s the doctor’s treatment recommendation. Got it?” She waited for a nod from Layla before helping her into the wheelchair, bending over to adjust the leg and footrests before taking her place behind it. “Alright, let’s get you out of here. Sound good?”

“Yes,” Layla said, her voice full of enthusiastic relief.

Evan couldn’t help smiling as he followed along behind. He knew that feeling well. And after her afternoon on the trail and spending hours at the ER, he bet she wanted to get home and rest. Well, he’d make sure she did that. And he’d get her car so she’d have one less thing to worry about.

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