“Seven. And she wanted to introduce me to her parents. That’s what chicks do when they wanna get married.”
I stifle laughter as I remove my dirty scrubs, shrugging out of my shirt and kicking out of my pants. I bundle everything up so I can dump it in yet another HAZMAT bin. In just my camisole and the lycra shorts I wear underneath my scrubs, I place my hands on my hips, facing Oliver. “I never had you pegged as a player. Here was me thinking you wanted a steady girlfriend. You used to talk about that all the time.”
Oliver smirks, stripping off his own scrubs to reveal a tight white wife beater underneath. He’s gotten bigger over the last six months. He has always worked out, but now he looks like he could be a fitness model or something. Clearly all of his random five-minute hook-ups have kept him in shape. “Yeah, well,” he says, rummaging in his locker. “Things change. The girl I was interested in having a proper relationship with went and got herself attached to someone else, didn’t she?” He doesn’t look at me. Taking out a clean t-shirt, he pulls it on over his head, not saying anything else.
My cheeks feel like they’re on fire. Oliver’s always treated me as a friend, but I’ve known he cared about me for a long time. Recently things have been different, though. Used to be that he’d give me the odd playful shove or pull on my hair when we were walking through the hallways. There were many times when he’d give me a hug after I’d lost someone, or I was gripped by panic over my missing sister. But not now. Not anymore. As I get dressed, pulling jeans and a sweater on, it hits me that he’s avoided all forms of physical contact with me for a long time now.
Sadness wells up inside me, making my throat tight. I don’t have feelings for Oliver; I never have. Yet, the change in our dynamic is saddening. I feel like he’s pulling back as a friend, which is ridiculous since I’m the one turning him down every time he asks to hang out. I guess with Zeth being, well, Zeth, I haven’t wanted a moment away from him. Being in his very presence is like a drug I can’t get enough of. Is that healthy? I can’t remember the last time I saw Pippa. Maybe three weeks ago when we caught up for coffee at Fresco’s?
“Oliver, I mean it. I really do want to go for a drink with you after work tomorrow. You think you can skip Grace for one night?”
Oliver gives me a tight smile, swinging his backpack onto his shoulder. “Of course, Romera. I’ll make time for you whenever you need me, you know that.” He makes a gun out of his right hand and fires it at me. If only he knew how many times I’ve had the real thing pointed at me. “I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?” he says.
“Yeah. Night, Oliver.”
I check my phone as soon as he’s gone. I have one missed call and one text message, both from Zeth. The call came in at eight thirty. The text fifteen minutes later.
I hear you’re wrist-deep in some kid or something. Come home soon so I can be balls deep inside you.
I shouldn’t be turned on by such a blatant text, but I am. Sue me. The idea of Zeth inside me right now is enough to make me shiver in anticipation. After the stress of such a huge surgery, I need to unwind, and there is no better way to do that than to let my boyfriend have his dark, deviant way with me.
I grab my stuff and hurry out of the hospital before I can get caught up in any new patients, wondering if there will be any taxis available at this time of night. I don’t get four feet out of the building before I realize I won’t need one, though. Michael’s black sedan is parked right next to the entrance. Of course, I should have known. The driver’s door opens and Michael climbs out, smoothing his hands down the front of his pristine grey suit. The man is always so well turned out. Today, however, his look is ruined by the fact that he’s sporting a black eye and a nasty split lip.
“What the hell happened to you?”
He shrugs, smiling. “Ask your boyfriend.”
“Oh god, he didn’t try and kill you, did he?”
“Only a little.” Michael opens the passenger door for me and then climbs back into the car himself. As he drives, heading in the direction of our house on the hill as Zeth calls it, I prod my finger at the gash I can now see on the side of his head.
“You guys are really gonna hurt each other one of these days.”
“Probably.”
“Why did he make you wait for me? Has something happened?” You never know what’s around the corner when you’re dating a guy like Zeth Mayfair. Seems as though trouble follows him around like a bad smell. I’m used to the concept that people don’t like him living here in Seattle. Criminals all over the city know exactly who he is and what he’s capable of. According to Michael, no one can really believe he’s retired from the life. They’re just waiting for him to step up and claim what they presume is rightly his.