Page 74 of Challenge
Shrugging his shoulders, he replies, “We’re a bit more than doctor/patient.” He winks and the look in his eyes is pure evil. “What was it you called us…Oh yes, ‘just sex.’”
“Someone could hear you!” My eyes scan the hallway for anybody within listening distance. He’s being so careless, I can’t take another minute. “They’ll come get you when they’re ready.” I turn to leave, but his hand flies out and grabs my arm.
“Indie,” his voice is pleading. It’s a tone I recognise better than the one he’s been giving me. I want to lean into it and let it comfort me. It’s the tone that brings back so many memories of fun and lust that it physically hurts my ears.
I turn back to him and look right up into his eyes. “No, Cam. I’m done. You’re making me feel small and silly and stupid and childish just liketheydid.”
“Who’s they?” he snaps.
“Those girls! Those girls from school I told you about in confidence because I thought you cared. Because I thought we were friends who could trust each other. Because you came to my home and we shared a meal, and I thought that meant something. I didn’t tell you so you could use it as ammunition to hurt me.”
“It did mean something. And I’m sorry.” He slices his free hand through his hair and looks down the hallway. His jawline is taut with emotion, but he’s never looked more beautiful. He looks back at me and his ice blue eyes are now warm and soft again, just as they were the night I last saw him in my flat. “Indie, I hurt you because I was angry. But you hurt me because you don’t care enough. One is certainly worse than the other.”
His words are so true I want to wish them away the moment he puts them out into the universe. For some strange reason, they make me think of my parents and the fact that I don’t even have a framed picture of them anymore. The one I had when I was six was at my gran’s house and got boxed away in storage with the rest of her things. They care about me, but never enough.
I want to ask him, “what’s enough,” because I genuinely don’t know. But the one thing I do know is that I probably can’t feel it. I feel my lower lip wobble, so I pull it into my mouth to chew on in a vain attempt to hide how this encounter is affecting me.
His grip on my arm softens as he moves his thumb to stroke the inside of my elbow. His blue eyes are soft and sympathetic when he says, “Look, we had a fun time while it was good. Let’s just leave it at that.”
I nod woodenly, knowing that this peace offering is probably more than I deserve, yet, for some mysterious reason, I don’t want to accept it.
Suddenly, the radiologist swings the door open and we spread apart instantly, both looking anywhere but at each other. He doesn’t seem to take notice and ushers Camden in for his scan.
I can’t bring myself to wait. The radiologist will have to see him out. He’s given me a peace offering and I need the space to accept it. What Camden and I had was fun while it lasted, but now it’s over and I need to move on.
“We’re going out,” I proclaim, pausing in front of the on-call room door where I find Belle standing at her locker. This sense of urgency has been coming on ever since Cam left a few hours ago. “We’re going to get dressed up. I’m going to let you do my makeup, and we’re going on a mission.”
“Well, yeah,” Belle replies. “I already told you a few days ago that Old George has Irish Way playing in the beer garden. I got us tickets for tonight, our first Tequila Sunrise night. Don’t you remember?”
I bite my lip at the realisation of how utterly vacant I’ve been all week because this doesn’t ring any bells. Well, no more. I’m done feeling the sting of that slap on my hand. Cam’s completely over me and probably off screwing a new girl as we speak.
“That’s right.” My eyes narrow with strategy. “Old George is perfect.”
Belle frowns. “Indie, you’ve been weird all week. What is going on with you? I saw Camden Harris’ brother Tanner today at the hospital, so I know he was here. Did something happen between you two? Your eyes look a bit more Tarsier Primate today than usual.”
A tiny part of me wants to tell Belle everything—to blurt out every nasty word that was said between Camden and me. But then I would have to tell her I let him push into me without a condom. That I knew he was doing it and I wanted him to do it. That I craved the feeling, but then, like a lunatic, I wigged out on him afterwards. I accepted him, rejected him, and then slapped him. She’ll think I have schizophrenia. Sharing will only shine a bigger light on how truly detached I can be, and I don’t want Belle to see that side of me. She’s the one person who embraces my quirks. I don’t want to wreck it. Plus, I need her to keep me going on this Penis List mission.
I defiantly raise my shoulders and reply, “Nothing bad happened with Camden. I accomplished my goal, so it’s time to move down the list. Tonight we’re on a Penis Number Two mission.”
She eyes me skeptically. “Shag ‘em and bag ‘em is more my gig…But hey, you are officially deflowered, so who the hell am I to judge? Just call me your wing-woman, darling.”
“Two more, please!” I shout down to the cute bartender and blink slowly, appreciating the cut of his jeans. “You know, those jeans would look even hotter on a footballer,” I slur over my shoulder to Belle. “God, they can wear jeans!”
“Too right,” Belle growls, raising her glass in a toast to hot thighs. “I’m craving a footballer for myself right about now.”
My brows raise. “I’m not craving a footballer. Come on, we’re here for Penis Number Two. Stay focused.”
“Well, Stanley is right there. Primed and ready.” She points toward the end of the bar where Stanley quickly looks away.
I shake my head. “Why does he always end up everywhere I am?”
“Because you invite him,” she sings.
I sigh. “I know. He asks and I don’t want to be mean. Stanley is a nice bloke.”
“So why don’t you put him out of his misery and shag him?”
“His eyes are too brown,” I grumble.
