Page 29 of Doctor Enemy

I don’t remember falling asleep, but Kurt is still in the room when I wake up.

He’s sitting in the reclining armchair now; he's rearranged it to be close to my bed and facing me. His head is propped up on the headrest of the chair. Something about being asleep makes him seem softer, more approachable.

Or maybe that’s just the fact that I’ve spent the whole night playing Go Fish with the man and actuallytalkingto him.

He’s a lot nicer than I had been giving him credit for.

“Kurt?” I say it softly the first time.

Nothing.

“Kurt,” I try again, slightly louder this time.

He jerks up with a start and a snort, legs slamming out to brace himself. “What’s wrong? I’m coming.”

I can’t help but smile. Carefully, I reach out. “Nothing’s wrong.”

His hand curls around mine, like it’s instinct for him. He’s got smooth surgeon’s hands. “What time is it? Never mind, I’ve got it.” Kurt gives my hand a squeeze and then checks his watch. “Shit.”

“What time?”

“Ten till six. I’ve got to get out of here, I’m on duty in ten minutes.” Kurt stands up and rakes a hand through his hair, smoothing it out. Then he grabs the armchair and pulls it toward the wall where it belongs.

My lips purse. “Thank you.”

“What?”

“Thank you,” I repeat. “For staying with me last night.”

The smile that Kurt flashes me is devilishly handsome. “A thank you from Lori Lange? I never thought that I would see the day.”

Heat flashes through my cheeks. “With a comment like that, you can consider it taken back!”

“Already gave it to me.” Kurt twists his hand through the air like he’s grabbing something invisible, and then mimes putting it in his pocket. “I’m not giving it back.”

If it weren’t for the neck brace and how bad I feel, I would’ve thrown a pillow at him. Instead, I roll my eyes and huff. “Just go get to work.”

“Heading out now,’ says Kurt. He steps out of the room and the door swings shut behind him. My eyes slide closed, and I settle back against my pillow, breathing out hard.

They have my painkillers hooked into the IV drip, set to release on a timer. The swelling on the side of my face isn’t quite as bad as it had been the day before, though the edema feels as though it’s sliding down and settling more in my chin and around my jaw.

Gravity really sucks when it comes to this sort of thing.

My lips purse. I reach up and gently press against the swelling. Warm pain floods through me. The skin dips beneath even that slight touch and I hiss, dropping my hand back down to my side with a groan.

There’s really not much that I can do throughout the day.

At some point, one of the nurse’s comes in and turns the TV on for me. Food Network blares through the speakers. Alton Brown leads me through three episodes of his cooking show–a torture fest for the chefs on screen–before someone knocks on the door.

Kurt steps into the room.

“I forgot that you were my doctor,” I admit, with a slight wince.

It’s not fair. Someone that good looking shouldn’t be able to incite such irritation in me.

It's become my autopilot reaction to him at this point. Irritation. Despite my slight softening to him last night.

But even just wearing the standard scrubs and doctor’s coat that everyone in his position uses as a work uniform, I can’t help but notice howbuilthe is. How carefully he has to take care of himself to look this attractive, even when he’s spending all these hours at work.

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