He steps close, hovering just behind me. It makes me itchy. I have to be allergic to him. A hookup in the on-call room could put me into anaphylactic shock.
“You didn’t like the fondue? Or you had other things in mind that didn’t include dinner?” He lowers his voice with everything that comes after the word other.
I push open the door to the stairs, unable to wait another second for the elevator. Warren follows me.
Idiot.
“Dorothy, come on. Just tell me.”
I hold my coffee in one hand and ball my other hand into a fist as my feet stomp up the stairs. “A fondue date is equivalent to unprotected sex with a stranger on a first date. It’s gross and just asking for trouble. Yet, that’s where you took me. And I only went out with you because the person I was having sex with at the time didn’t want me to tell you, so I kept our date to keep from having to explain why I couldn’t go on a date with you. And I have more … just so much more I could say about your deep character flaws and questionable taste in everything from cologne to your brand of shoes. But this year I vowed to be more reticent with my negative opinions.”
“Christ, Mayhem, you are one hell of a ballbuster. And who are you fucking that knows me?”
“No one. I’m not sexually active at the moment.” I glance at my watch as it pops up with an activity notification, asking me if I’m doing a stair climbing workout.
“But who were you with when we went on our date?”
“Not saying.”
Please shut up before I blurt it out because I can’t keep secrets!
I pull open the door to the fifth floor. Warren stays on my ass, and I know he doesn’t need anything on the fifth floor.
“But clearly you’re no longer together. Right?”
“Yes. No. Ugh … he was in an accident, so things are complicated.”
“An accident?”
“Go away, Warren.” I double my speed down the hallway, but his legs are so much longer, it’s useless.
“The only person I know who has been in an accident is Dr. Hawkins. But that’s ridiculous so—”
“Why would that be ridiculous?” I whip around, glaring up at Warren as he holds his coffee out to the side instead of ramming it into my chest.
The cocky grin falls right off his genetically gifted face as his eyes widen, jaw unhinged. “No way. There’s no way you and Hawkins were …” He shakes his head.
“Well …” I clear my throat and take a step backward, diverting my gaze to the nurse passing us on my left. “I didn’t say it was him. I just asked why it would be so ridiculous.”
Warren cocks his head to the side. My skin turns red as he studies me. I refuse to look at him, but I know he’s visually interrogating me.
“Holy … shit … it’s true. You and Hawkins.”
“Nope.” I shake my head. “At least … not anymore.” And that is my biggest fault. I absolutely cannot lie to save my life, or Eli’s life, or a small village of starving children halfway around the world. And while I hate lies because I can never see past them, I envy those who can do it so well.
I turn and keep walking. Warren doesn’t follow me. I think he can’t move his legs after my unintended confession leaves him paralyzed with disbelief. Knowing he knows will drive me insane, so I have to confess to Eli that I let it slip.
Me: Dr. Warren knows we had sex. I told him we are not having sex now. Hope you’re not mad.
It takes him less than ten seconds to respond, probably because he has nothing better to do than sit on his butt all day.
Dr. Hawkins: Hi. Do I know you? I feel like you’re someone I used to know and call and TEXT a lot with no reply. Hmm … let me think.
I roll my eyes just as he sends a second text.
Dr. Hawkins: Actually, I’m livid that we’re not having sex now. Why is that?
Squinting my eyes, I dissect his response to sort fact from fiction. He’s joking. Right?
Me: You’re in a cast. You had surgery for internal bleeding. You’re back with Dr. Hathaway.
Dr. Hawkins: I fucking miss you so much I can’t breathe.