Page 20 of Not Catching Love

Right.

I’ve blocked out all light coming through the windows into my room to make it feel like a den in there. Like a cozy, hidden cave for a scared little animal like me.

I hover in the hallway, straining my ears to see if anyone else is awake, but I don’t pick up any noise. I know the sound of all my roommates’ and their partners’ footsteps, can place where they are in the house and the ways their walks change based on their moods. I’m tempted to go looking for company anyway but too terrified to find an empty house. No matter how desperately I need connection, how my heart feels bruised and raw, I ignore the urges.

Upstairs, I shower, scrubbing every inch of skin I can reach until it’s red raw. Then I dry my hair, straighten every strand, and set to work putting on a light layer of makeup.

I’m hesitant to take out my contacts, but my eyes are feeling seriously dry and irritated, so I remove them reluctantly, then avoid looking in the mirror.

I’m not that person anymore. Not the boy with the brown hair and gray eyes. Not the unlovable, invisible child.

Back in my room, the giant, frumpy hoodie I stole from Christian is calling to me. I’m craving the warmth and the comfort, but I ignore it in favor of a midriff and cotton shorts. No comfort. Only cute. Imagine the disaster if I fell unconscious in my sleep, needed to be rushed to the hospital, and was wearing something five sizes too large for me? I doubt any of my roommates would think to stop and get me changed first.

So, I dress. And I curl up in bed. And I try not to mess up my hair and makeup while I fall into a fitful sleep.

Chapter Eight

Derek

Not my finest moment. I wake up dusty-eyed and full of self-loathing. I’m not someone who does self-loathing usually, but last night was messed up. I let myself fall into Xander’s vortex way too easily.

I stumble from my bedroom out into the kitchen to put the coffee machine on. I’ve got a whole day off today, followed by dance classes at the nursing home later.IfI don’t get a call. A loud yawn rips from me, and while I wait on the coffee, I head into my spare bedroom to check on the ants. They’ve almost decimated the apple I left them yesterday, and so far, it doesn’t look as though queenie has snacked on any of her workers.

This colony might be a good one. I’m hopeful, at least.

It takes me a few minutes to head around the room, checking the little microenvironments I’ve set up for some of my insects. They’re well looked after, and I genuinely care about every one of them, but as much as I love that I can havethis, it’s a hobby. Something I can keep busy doing that’s within my control.

One day, I’ll have my bees. Helping replenish the bee population is a passion of mine, and if I took Manny up on his offer of all that land, it’s one of the first things I’d invest in. It’s a big commitment though, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that until I’ve had a chance to travel.

After I’ve confirmed my bugs are fine, I make my coffee, get changed into gym clothes, and head down the street for a workout. Only a block away. Still within easy distance of the pharmacy. This is what my life has become.

I refuse to resent it, but I’m also worried that I won’t always be in control of that. The protectiveness I feel over Xander isn’t normal, and the last thing I want is for that to sour because I like liking him.

If only he wasn’t my patient and I could actually do something about it.

There’s an easy way to change that, a little voice in my ear reminds me. I’m not interested in giving myself false hope, and I wonder if I was actively dating, whether Xander would still have this hold over me.

Unfortunately, dates aren’t usually understanding when you have to dip out midway. If I was a doctor, it would be totally fine. No questions asked. But nurses aren’t seen as the medical professionals that we are.

So no dating. No traveling. No moving.

Just trapped here.

Fuck me. I’m definitely going to grow to resent him.

Still, I’ve managed to make it years without that side kicking in yet. Maybe it’s my attraction to him that’s saving our relationship while simultaneously making it impossible to be around him. I groan, realizing that I’m thinking about him again, and send a quick text to Constantine.

Do we sell anything to create memory loss? Because I could use it.

Constantine:

I’m sure it’s the side effect of something. Got little Smurf boy on your brain?

Me:

It’s so weird when you call him that.

Constantine:

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