Page 33 of Challenge
I reach out and touch his shoulder, mindful to not appear too personal, and he doesn’t even look at me. I turn to leave and hear him quietly say, “Bye, Dr. Porter.”
I look back and he closes his eyes as if he’s closing the door on something so much bigger than this moment. I have no clue what’s going through his head, but my only hope is that I can get a better handle on him later. Or better yet, when he’s out of the hospital.
A while later, Belle finds me in the cafeteria throwing away the remnants of my lunch. “Hey! I heard surgery went well. How was your goodbye?” she asks, adjusting her tray on her hip.
“My goodbye?” I ask, setting my tray on the conveyor belt.
“With lover boy. I saw a nurse pushing him out the back exit door a little bit ago. I suppose to avoid all the paparazzi and media crews. I assumed you already spoke to him? Arranged your first date.” Her eyes flash with a dirty look in them.
My face crumples. “Prichard said he wasn’t getting discharged until after three o’clock.”
“Well, he must have changed his mind because Camden was definitely leaving just now. He was in street clothes—”
I don’t even let her finish before I take off, moving through the hospital as fast as I can, not caring if I look like a lunatic. This probably reeks of desperation, but after his chilly demeanour in post-op this morning, there’s no way I’m letting him leave on that note.
I head to the back area of the hospital where they deliver the hospital beds because I know that’s where they’ve released VIPs before. I burst through the large metal door and squint as my eyes adjust to the London daylight.
“Looking for someone?” a voice asks. I swerve around to find Camden sitting all alone in a wheelchair alongside the building. He’s hiding back in the shadows, dressed in a zip up hoodie that is pulled up over his head. His legs are bare in a pair of athletic shorts with a cloth fabric bandage wrapped around his right knee.
“I was looking for you,” I reply breathlessly. “I didn’t know you were getting discharged so early.” I walk over so I can see his face better, and he looks off to the side as if he doesn’t want to make eye contact.
“Same-day surgery. All a part of that magical procedure you performed on me today.” He turns back and his blue eyes are icy cold. I think I preferred the no eye contact thing.
“Are you waiting for a car?”
“Vi had to drive around because some paparazzi was following her.”
“And the nurse left you out here alone?” That’s against hospital policy and I immediately want to ask what her name is.
“I wanted to be alone.” He pierces me with a look in his eyes as if he’s trying to convey more than what we’re talking about. “Don’t worry about me.”
“So…that’s it then?” I ask, the words feeling odd and sticky in my mouth. We’re finally outside the hospital, breathing fresh air with no one around to overhear us. This is what I wanted, so why does it feel so awkward?
He looks at me, his face hard as stone. “Did you expect more?”
“I mean…I guess. I thought…” my voice trails off. How do I put into words that I had hoped we could have sex sometime soon.
“Let’s not drag this out.” His words are sharp and clipped and final. I can’t, for the life of me, figure out when things shifted between us.
Steeling myself, I say, “I’m just surprised. I thought we had an arrangement.”
“Things change,” he adds with a careless roll of his eyes. “It’s not really that shocking.”
My jaw drops as he continues looking at me as if I’m nothing more than his doctor. As if I didn’t risk everything by kissing him and sleeping in his bed with him.
Gosh, I’m such a fool for believing that he even liked me. A brief flicker of irrational anger toward Belle crashes over me.“Stop downplaying your appeal, Indie. It’s unappealing.”The only thing unappealing is me continuing to let this tosser look at me as if I’m nothing.
I adjust my glasses and retort back, “You know what…it’s fine. I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea. There’s a chance this could have ruined my career, and for what? A footballer? You’ve probably had more rides than the London Eye.”
“Oh, real original,” he sneers.
My voice trembles with anger. “Better than a pun.” Then a moment of silence stretches out between us, both of us leaning in, eye-fucking each other with quiet rage. This entire exchange is childish and juvenile, but bloody hell, does it feel good on some deep, dark level.
“It was nice to meet you, Dr. Porter.” He turns his wheelchair to look away from me, and my anger flatlines at his formal address.
Our little affair is truly over before it even started. I’m left blanketed in the shame of everything I risked for someone like him.
When I first met Camden, he was warm and playful. Charming even. I escaped into a secret world where I was wild and carefree and broke all the rules. I laughed a lot.
