Page 32 of Doctor Enemy

What the hell was I thinking?

Fine. I know what I was thinking. I was freaked out by my dream. Kurt was there. I wanted comfort and a distraction. Explanation found and made. Even if I know that it’s a blatant lie.

That’s why it feels like a cheap cop-out instead of an actual answer. Because it is.

That kiss wasn’t just about wanting comfort from someone. It was about wanting comfort fromKurtspecifically. I wouldn’t have made that move on Ross or Jackson if they were the ones in the room with me.

It’s just because it was Kurt.

And if I was given the chance, I know that I would kiss him again.

“That’s because you’re stupid,” I grumble at myself, reaching up and trying to gently wipe my face dry. Each pass of my fingers hurts. It just makes me more miserable and pissed at myself. “Really, seriously stupid.”

The TV was turned off hours ago. I don’t even have the background blur of Food Network to try and distract myself. All that I can do is replay the last fifteen minutes while I lay there. And the night before. And every other interaction that I’ve had with Kurt since the first day that we met.

It’s impossible not to pick it apart, especially now that I can’t even be mad at him for showing up to rounds late.

Now, the only things that I can find to justify my anger toward the man are where he came from, his dismissive attitude when we work together… And the fact that he sleeps around with anything that’s got a pair of tits.

For some reason, it’s thatlastreason that makes me feel the worst.

Chapter eleven

Kurt

Thenextthreedayspass in a blur of rounds, without any surgery to break them up. While I often spend the first night with a scared patient who has no family around, I’ve found myself staying in the room with Lori almost every night since she was admitted.

My back is seriously starting to pay the price.

I groan as I drop onto the couch in the doctors’ lounge, kicking both legs out in front of me.

From the coffee maker on the other side of the room, Jackson says, “Someone looks tired.”

“Bite me,” I tell him.

Jackson hums. “I’ll save that for my wife, I think.” He finishes making his mug of coffee and then comes to sit down beside me. “You know, you might not be so tired if you went home. When was the last time you left the hospital.”

I groan again, even louder. “I don’t need you lecturing me on this, Jackson. It’s not like you haven't pulled double duty plenty of times.” I squint at him. “You would have stayed in the research lab for a week straight if Amanda had let you.”

Jackson takes a sip of his coffee, unbothered by my comment. “The difference is, I was having achildwith Amanda, and the last time I checked, Lori was trying to come up with a way to quietly strangle you during a nap.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” I grouse.

“It was,” says Jackson. “I heard—”

“Fucking nurse gossip.”

Jackson continues, as though I hadn’t interrupted him at all, “That you’ve been spending almost all of your time in her room.”

“An overexaggeration,” I say.

Jackson stares at me over the rim of his coffee mug.

I glower at him. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“You haven’t gone out with Nate lately, either. Or Costas,” Jackson continues.

He’s been pulled more and more into our circle of friends since he got hitched up with Amanda. She’s done a lot to remind him that it’s alright to have a life outside of work. About half the time that Nate and I go out somewhere after hours, Jackson comes with us.

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