Page 37 of Challenge
“Manipulated? How?”
“Well, I started questioning everything after that. Why didn’t you mention it to me before? I’m usually the player, not the playee. It’s not like we didn’t have the chance to discuss it. You slept in my room two nights.”
My jaw drops. “I didn’t think you’d care.”
“What the hell does that mean?” He looks offended as his jaw muscle ticks violently.
“Nothing! I didn’t mention it because it didn’t occur to me. I don’t seem to make the best choices when I’m around you, Camden. I have a bit of a one-track mind when you do that glittery eye thing to me. But fine, let’s air it all out,” I bark, feeling as if I’m on a roll now. “Yes, I have a heavy interest in your surgery. I have a heavy interest in ortho. It’s what I’ve chosen to focus on. I don’t have any reason to hide that. I probably didn’t tell you because—” I pause and he urges me on. “Because I was embarrassed by my behaviour. What happened to you was the surgical opportunity of a lifetime. It was great for my career, yet I was risking it all by getting involved with you. I didn’t want you to look at me as if I was a silly little girl with half a brain. I don’t like feeling as if I’m being run by my hormones.”
He jeers, “I wouldn’t have thought that.”
“Well, what I did was unethical and I still don’t know exactly why I did it.”
“Could it be because you want to fuck me?” He slides closer to me. His vulgar word mixed with his scent of soap makes my mouth water.
I scoff at how he’s managed to simplify a whole slew of personal and ethical issues into one stupid sentence. “No, definitely not.”
“Maybe it’s my glittery eye thing you mentioned?” He’s doing an absolute horrid job of hiding his smirk.
“God, you’re an arse.” My shield drops like the adulterous Brutus it is. How does he make me lose myself so quickly?
“Indie,” he whispers, leaning in. His close proximity confounds my mind so much that I want to fall into his warm, manly embrace. Somehow, I manage to resist…but just barely. “I was a wounded, egotistical jerk. But that was temporary. Your note cured me. I’m sorry for being jealous and brushing you off.” The feel of his breath tickles as he inhales over the skin exposed along my neck. “It’s okay to want me.”
“No, it’s not. You suck.” My voice is raspy, which makes me roll my eyes. “Did you even get what my pun meant?”
“Yeah, you’re considering becoming a juggler of testicles after you finish this whole doctor phase.” His face is expressionless and, like a silly girl, I smile.
I turn to shove him away. “You don’t deserve my pun.” He catches my hand and holds it against his chest. I nervously look around to confirm that no one is watching us. I shouldn’t be touching him. I should be pulling my hand away from him and act halfway professional. But then I feel the ridges of muscle beneath the soft cotton of his T-shirt and the pounding of his heart as he clutches my hand. I take a quick guess that it’s beating around 80 bpm, which is fast for a resting state athlete. His eyes sparkle with so much desire, and the danger of the whole scene makes it impossible for me to look away.
“You’re scared,” he says. “But why?”
Embarrassment forces me to look down. “I’ve never made men a priority in my life. I’m not like this. I don’t sleep with patients and jeopardise all that I’ve worked for.”
“It looked to me like you were just living a little.” He releases my hand. “And I’m sorry if I was pressuring you too much.”
The remorseful look on his face gives me pause. “You didn’t force me to do anything I didn’t want to do. Just…this place,” I say, gesturing to the hospital behind me. “I’m normally a different person in that building. I don’tlivemy life in there. Isavelives in there.”
“I completely understand.” He stands up and shoves his hands in his pockets as if he’s getting ready to leave.
“Okaaay?” I ask as he looks at me expectantly.
“How about I escort you home and we get to know each other away from the hospital.” He winks and gestures for me to follow him. “Let’s have a do-over, Specs.”
I couldn’t say no. I didn’t want to say no. It wasn’t because he’s hot or charming, or because he apologised profusely, or because I still want him to be Penis Number One. It’s because I’m genuinely curious about him. I get a sense that there’s a lot more to Camden than what he shows on the surface. He feels like a brand new textbook just waiting to be read, and God I love textbooks.
“I don’t live far,” I say as we make our way down the sidewalk and away from the glow of the hospital. A weight lifts off my shoulders when I can no longer see it behind me.
Camden squints as a thought strikes him. “You sleep at the hospital, though.” He looks at me curiously. “Even though you live so close?”
A twinge of anxiety fleets through me at his perceptiveness. “It’s…complicated.”
“Try me,” he states.
“I’m impressed by how you’re getting around,” I deflect, eyeing his movement appreciatively. This is the first time I’ve seen Camden Harris at one hundred percent. No limp, no favouring. Just long, powerful strides, eating up the pavement of East London. I can only imagine how incredible he looks on the pitch.
“Yeah, it’s been good. The therapist has been working with me all week.”
He shows me some of the movements he does with the therapist and how when he twists it a certain way, he can feel the graft. I tell him that’s normal, relishing in the fact that we’re talking in my comfort zone right now and not about the fact that he’s coming back to my flat.
