Page 22 of Noticing Natalie

“I can’t.” I tilt my head to the ambulance bay.

His face falls. “How about later?”

I look at the clock on the wall, flustered. “I’m working all day.”

“Do you get a break?” He’s persistent. “Surely you need to eat?”

I look at the people milling around us, all pretending not to be listening to this conversation, and give in. Anything to get him out of here. “1 p.m. I get thirty minutes at 1 p.m.”

His handsome face lights up. “Can I meet you then?”

“Let’s meet at the coffee shop across the road.” He’s beaming at me and my heart takes off racing. “Is that OK?”

He grabs my hand and squeezes it. “I’ll see you then.”

I watch in a daze as he and Jordan slip out the back door, where they must have snuck in and let out a relieved sigh. How is this my life?

Turning to get to work, I bump into Amy, who’s now grinning an evil grin at me.

“Just a friend, you say. I don’t believe that for a second.”

We hurry to get out to the ambulance bay and all I can think is: I don’t believe it either.

*****

I rush into the café across the street, five minutes late, and a lot frazzled. After Matthew’s departure, the emergency department erupted into chaos. There were victims from five separate car accidents (it’s like everyone woke up this morning and forgot how to drive), three drug overdoses and one case of explosive diarrhoea. Guess which one the student nurse got to deal with?

“Sorry!” I yank out the chair across from where Matthew is sitting, all pristine and calm, and throw myself into it, wishing I’d put on some lip gloss or, at a minimum, spray some deodorant. Oh boy, what if I smell?

I hunch over, keeping my arms pinned to my sides, and pray for my sweat glands to do me a solid and take the afternoon off.

“Are you OK?” Matthew sounds genuinely concerned.

I look up from my intense perusal of the menu and make the mistake of locking eyes with him. Oh no, don’t do this. This is a surefire way to make me sweat! “I’m fine,” I lie. “Just hungry.” Another lie, given the explosive diarrhoea patient may have killed my appetite for a long time. Possibly forever.

He smiles at me, his eyes doing that thing where they look like they are cataloguing all my features. I both love it and hate it. “Then what can I order for you?”

Food. No. “Maybe just an iced tea?”

He looks confused but doesn’t argue, ordering an iced tea for me and a cheeseburger for himself from the waitress who has been lingering by our table the whole time I’ve been here. She’s looking at Matthew with stars in her eyes, and I don’t blame her. I’m a little star-struck myself.

“Rough morning?”

“You have no idea.” I take a sip from the glass of water he’s poured for me, wondering what to say next. He didn’t invite me to lunch to talk about my nursing duties.

“Tell me?”

I shake my head. Some things are better left in the ER, or in this case, the biohazard bin. “I’d rather hear about you, Mr Big-Shot.”

He gives me a closed-mouth smile, looking uncomfortable. “I’m still me,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just now people recognise me wherever I go.”

Case in point, no sooner has he said these words, when two young boys around the age of ten shyly walk up to the table and ask for his autograph. Matthew does one better. He gets up and offers to take photos with them, lighting up their entire day, week, life. After several minutes with me playing the role of photographer, so the boys’ mother can get in the pictures (and nuzzle up against Matthew’s chest), they leave, the happiest of smiles gracing all of their faces.

“You’re good with people.” I sip on my iced tea, watching the hands on the clock tick by, speeding towards the end of my lunch break.

He shrugs. “It takes very little from me to give them that experience.” And that’s him in a nutshell. He’s always been happy to share his stardust with anyone keen to take it.

“I know we don’t have long.” His voice is now serious and my stomach tightens. “But I knew after I saw you on Wednesday that I had to come back and clear the air.”

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