Page 125 of Curvy Girl Summer

He cocked his head to the side. “So… you and the talker?”

“Yes!” I snickered. “And why do you keep calling him that?”

“Because all he did was talk. I didn’t see you get a word in. Every time I walked by, he was talking. He didn’t take a break. I think I heard him talking and drinking at the same time.”

I held in my laugh. “Can you stop?”

“You’re not seeing it because you’re stubborn and you don’t want to see it. But that man talked from the moment he sat down. He asked you what you wanted to drink and then he didn’t let you say anything else. I didn’t see you get a word in.”

“It wasn’t like that,” I argued, rolling my eyes. “Don’t be a hater.”

“I’m not hating. I’m just saying.”

“Well, say less.”

“Maybe if he said less…”

“I would beat you up if you weren’t already injured.”

He ran his hand over his beard. “If you two hit it off and it was all good, why’d you skip out on it?”

“Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you—if you were okay,” I clarified quickly. “I couldn’t stop thinking about if you were okay. I went to Onyx to tell you about my date, and Asia said you were in a car accident.” I fiddled with the hem of my dress as I crossed my legs. “You said the last one fucked you up, and I didn’t want you to go through what you went through before.”

Because of the significance of the first accident, I knew the second accident could be a trigger for him and I wanted to be there for him. There was no rational reason why I didn’t stop to consider he had people to lean on in his time of need. It didn’t make sense for me to show up to try to support him. It wasn’t reasonable for me to track him down when our friendship was weeks old.

The longer he didn’t say anything, the longer I had to sit with it. Looking away from him, I squeezed my eyes shut and thought about how I rushed to the hospital to be at his side. And one week prior, I found his address and popped up at his door.

This is unhinged behavior.

It took a few seconds before he responded.

“I appreciate that,” he said softly. “For real, Aaliyah.”

My lashes fluttered open. “You don’t think it sounds crazy?”

“Oh, no, it’s definitely crazy. But”—he smirked—“it’s good crazy.”

The curtain swooshed as Dr. Myers and a different nurse entered the room. They examined and cleaned his wound, remarking that it was deep but not critical. They gave him some pain medication, and after cleaning the wound, they proceeded to stitch him up. Someone else came in to draw blood and administer a booster shot as the doctor typed information into the computer. The whole thing only took thirty minutes.

When Dr. Myers finished, he went over some wound care instructions. “Tomorrow, you can start washing around the wound twice a day. But make sure you keep the area dry, clean, and away from anything that’ll irritate it. Apply a thin layer of antibiotic cream. You don’t want anything rubbing against it. Loose-fitting sleeves would be best for the next few days. These are absorbable stitches, and they’ll dissolve in seven to ten days. If you see any signs of infection, come back immediately. We’ll start you on some oral antibiotics. If there’s anything of concern regarding your blood work results, we’ll be in touch.” He gave the bandaged wound a once-over. “But everything looks as good as can be. If you feel any discomfort, over-the-counter pain medication is fine. But you don’t need anything but rest for the next few hours. What we gave you should get you through the night.”

Ahmad nodded as he pulled his shirt back on. “Okay, thank you.”

The doctor turned to me. “You are his ride home, right?”

“Yes,” I answered automatically.

Dr. Myers nodded before turning back to Ahmad. “You may experience a little manageable pain, so”—the doctor gestured to me—“let your wife get you home and you take it easy tonight.”

“Oh, uhhh…” He looked over at me and then down at his hand. “Right.”

I immediately felt uncomfortable.

“We’ll get you discharged and on your way. Give us a few minutes.” The doctor left the room with the nurse in tow.

Ahmad was still looking at his hand.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized softly, jumping to my feet. “I feel like I overstepped. I shouldn’t be here. I’m going to go get the car and meet you out front.”

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