Page 9 of Egotistical Jerk
I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth to stop the mortified screech from coming out. Pressing my chin against my chest, I started moving, and I didn't stop until I was sitting on one of the benches in the garden.
"What the hell is wrong with me?"
Lifting the lid of the cup, I held it a few inches away from my cheek to test the warmth of the steam—something my dad had always done. I was fairly certain the heat simmering its way through my body was a lot hotter than my drink.
Bringing the cup to my mouth, I swallowed down a generous amount of my coffee. Hopefully, the warmth that made its way down my throat would burn some sense into me. Because I seriously needed to get a damn grip.
Yes, Dr. Ryker was, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful men I'd laid eyes on. Getting lost in those dark eyes would be so easy. Dreaming about his sinful looking mouth and hands on me, hardly a hardship.
But I wasn't there for that.
I came to learn from the best.
I simply had to push the annoying little crush I had on the man to the very back of my mind and remember how hard I'd worked to get where I was.
There was no way I was going to throw all that away for a man. As I drained the rest of my drink, I decided all thoughts of Dr. Ryker needed to go into ado-not-touchcontainer. And they needed to stay there.
***
I closed the door behind me and immediately slid down it until my butt connected with the floor. I pulled my legs into my chest and bent my head to rest my cheek on my knees.
"I think I'll just sleep here."
Exhausted didn't even begin to cover the tired feeling spreading through my body. Not even close.
Those few minutes I'd spent sitting on the bench in the garden turned out to be the only time I had for sitting down—except when I went to the bathroom, but even that was get in, get out. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined that one shift could hold so much madness.
The crazy thing? I loved every freaking minute of it. In fact, I was fairly certain if they called me right that second and asked me to go back in, I'd do it in a heartbeat. I wrapped my arms around my legs and zeroed in on one of the photos on my bookcase. A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as I slowly pushed to my feet. Toeing off my shoes, I padded across the room.
The thick pewter frame felt heavy in my hands. The feeling inside my chest even heavier. Brushing my fingers over the faces staring back at me, I finally allowed the tears I'd been holding in to fall.
"Oh, Daddy. I know you're looking down on me, but I wish you were here. I wish I had the chance to show you that I'd followed my dreams, just like I'd promised I would." Sniffling, I wiped my nose with the back of my hand. "I would've given anything to see the look on your face." My lids squeezed together when I held the frame against my lips.
When my eyes finally dried, I pulled the frame back and stroked my dad's smiling face one last time. Returning the frame to its spot, I made my way through my modest one-bedroom apartment.
What I needed was a hot shower and my bed. Stat.
Chapter 6
SEBASTIAN
My fingers lazily traced along the rim of my soda glass. Simon and I had switched to non-alcoholic beverages almost an hour ago. We weren't exactly twenty anymore, waking up with a hangover didn't sound pleasant at all. And don't even get me started with working on open wounds while your stomach churned violently.
Yeah, been there, done that.
"I had the pleasure of working with one of yours earlier," Simon stated.
"Yeah?"
"Mhm." He swallowed down a healthy amount of his drink. "Dr. Lawrence… I have to say, Sebastian, I've seen two of your doctors in action now, and they were both pretty damn good under pressure." His bright blue eyes pinned me in place. "How are you going to choose just one?"
Shaking my head, I brought my own drink to my lips. "I don't know," I answered honestly when I set the empty glass on the coaster. "I've decided I would only be focusing on their performance on my floor since that will be where they'll be spending all of their time."
I glanced at the wall-mounted digital clock. It was getting late and my friend had a family to get home to. With that thought, a pang of something hit against my chest. Hard.
I didn't think of myself as lonely. My family and I checked in with each other at least once a week. Thanks to my twenty-pound tabby Maine Coon, I didn't go home to an empty house. And on the rare occasion I sought out female company, it was never in short supply.
So, why the hell did the thought of Simon going home to his wife and kids cause a stirring inside of me?
