The fact I need to explain and the false smile on my face does the same as it did with Alek. She’s suspicious.
“Has Alek gone to work?” she asks as she sits and balances the plate on her knee.
“I think so. Does he work at the hospital, too?”
“He works at a bar.”
The ticking of the ancient gas fire heating up is the only sound in the room, so I lean across and switch the TV on. Silently, Lizzie eats her dinner as I keep my eyes firmly fixed on the screen. She knows I heard; I’m sure.
Chapter 4
Half-asleep after my long hospital shift, the food on my tray blurs. I rub my eyes and examine the contents of my tray. The hospital cafeteria food is unappetising and bland, the chefs even manage to make curry tasteless, which is quite a skill. Usually, I avoid eating here, but this evening I am and all because I don’t feel like going home to my tiny room in the house of weirdness. I can’t get the red-haired girl out of my mind. Or Alek. Especially Alek, which annoys me. I poke at the fish on my plate, trying to decipher what sauce is covering the portion. I’ve never been a big eater, but my appetite still hasn’t returned. Maybe being fed by tubes in veins while I was in a coma shrunk my stomach completely.
“Can I sit here?” I look up. Finn is standing next to the table, holding a tray. He’s taller than I thought, a similar height to Alek.
I look around the room and see plenty of empty tables. I’m hidden by a planter full of fake green plants, away from the voices and clattering of trays across the cafeteria. “If you want.”
“Thanks.” He sits and takes two cups from his tray, placing one in front of me. “I bought you a coffee. And I wanted to apologise for being rude yesterday.”
“I don’t drink coffee.” Not this coffee, hot water and milk flavour.
“Oh, well, I’ll have two then.” He slides the cup back toward himself with long fingers ending in clean and neat fingernails. “I’m Finn.”
“I know. You told me and it says there.” I point at his badge and then indicate mine. “Rose.”
“Nice to meet you, Rose.”
For a moment, I ponder whether he’s hitting on me, but he’s distracted by watching people around him, such as the nurses at the nearest table, giggling over something on one of their phones.
He looks back to me. “Sorry about yesterday; long shift. I was tired.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“I’m new and I’m temporary staff. It’s stressful and I don’t really know anyone, which is the reason I want to sit with you.”
Maybe he should just say, ‘Hi, I’m Finn, and I’m not hitting on you’. It would be so much easier than dancing around and sounding vaguely insulting.
“Are you new, too?” Finn asks.
“No, just antisocial.”
Finn laughs and I don’t, so he clears his throat. Well, I am. All my friends left town for jobs and study, and I’m working shifts in a dead-end job with people I don’t really get on with. Making new friends after having the same ones my whole life is difficult as an introvert. Sometimes I think people at work avoid me, but then I get annoyed with myself for paranoia. Perhaps I should add this to my list of ailments I carry with me since the accident.
Finn takes his jacket off and I stare at his arms. Yes, I love toned biceps on a guy but that’s not why; I’m intrigued by his tattoo. I know a few guys with tattoos on their arms; mostly, they’re around the biceps. Finn’s ink starts at his wrist, a black pattern weaving up his right arm and disappearing into the short-sleeve of his uniform.
“Interesting look,” I say.
He tips his head. “Most people look surprised by my ink or pretend not to notice.”
“Why would they do that?”
He turns his arm over. “Well, I’m a nurse. And it’s a bit excessive, don’t you think?”
“You chose to do it. Isn’t how excessive it is your decision?” My eyes follow the path up his arm, and I wonder how far the tattoo goes. Like across his broad shoulders maybe…
“I’d show you the rest, but I doubt it’s appropriate to undress in the middle of the hospital.”
Oh, my God. I immediately flush bright red, partly because I can’t stop picturing his chest under the stretched hospital blues, but also because the possibility he’s hitting on me isn’t so alien. His face is inscrutable; mine obviously isn’t because he grins at me.
“I suppose we should get to know each other better before I start undressing in front of you.”
“Why the hell would I want to see you naked?” I retort.
Finn sits back and picks up his coffee, looking genuinely confused by my reaction. “Who said anything about naked? I was just offering to show you something you’re curious about.”
I tell myself he’s winding me up and nothing else. I don’t think he’s trying to be suggestive; he’s being literal. Great, someone else who lacks social skills enters my life.
“I don’t think I’m your type,” I mutter.
“We’re only having coffee…two new people with no friends.”