Page 2 of Puck Block

“And you need to take a deep breath,” Claire reminds me. Her hand falls to mine, and she gives it a gentle squeeze. “Ballet dancers are supposed to be poised, remember?”

A tight laugh tumbles from my mouth before I back up to prepare for a pirouette. “I only got into ballet because I was jealous that Emory and Ford were good at something. I wanted to prove that I was good at something too. It has nothing to do with my demeanor.”

Claire laughs while bending at the waist to stretch. “Obviously.” She slowly stands up and says, “It’s probably a good thing you’re in ballet. You’d be way too intimidating if you were in a highly competitive sport.”

“Like hockey?” I ask. “Could you imagine if there were two Olsons on the team?”

My older brother has a temper—much like every goalie there ever was.

Claire does a quick sauté and lands in first position. “It would be terrifying.”

We both laugh and practice a few more turns while we wait for Professor Petit to stop correcting some of the younger dancers' form. I step in line to do another arabesque because Kate’s little dig irritated me. Determination runs through my blood just as potently as it does for my brother, and if we’re given the chance to prove something to someone, we will obliterate it.

I arch my back deeper this time and lengthen my neck. My focus is stable, and my left foot balances along the floor before I finish and regain my posture. I finally exhale, and that’s when I realize the room is spinning again. Black dots swarm my vision, and I become aware of the all-too-familiar tingling in my clammy hands.

Shit.

Like a looming nightmare, I know what comes next.

I was wrong earlier.

I’m not fine.

I make eye contact with Claire, and she knows right away that I’m about to go down. She takes off in my direction, but before I can see if she attempts to pull another heroic move, like at The Bex, everything goes black.

“This is totally uncalled for.” I’m scowling, and it causes the paramedic to chuckle under his breath.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a terrible patient?” he asks.

I pause and look away becauseyes.

“Only every single time,” another voice says.

I tip my head back and make eye contact with the dark-haired EMT who has unfortunately had me in his care before. He turns away with a smirk and goes back to reading my levels on the monitor. His strong brow furrows, which is never good.

Do you know what else is never good? When the campus EMTs start to recognize you.

I’m beyond embarrassed, and I continue to curse my wonky pancreas all the way to the hospital, where Mr. Bossy-Pants refuses to let me walk and threatens to strap me down onto the stretcher if I even dare step a toe off.

I fling myself back onto the uncomfortable padding and cross my arms. The other EMT, the one that has a much better bedside manner, pats my arm, but the dark-haired one swoops in and whispers in my ear, “Relax, princess. Let us take care of you.”

My stomach gushes with something warm, and my cheeks burn with a blush.Christ, Taytum.I’m so deprived of the opposite sex–thanks to Emory and his friends becoming even more involved in my social circle because of Claire dating their captain–that I think the cute paramedic is flirting with me.

He’s not.

He’s just doing his job.

Kate is likely throwing a party with confetti and cake due to my sudden disappearance during practice. Knowing her, she’s probably set up some viewing site where my face met the floor.

When the elevator doors open, I tense. We’re headed for the ER, and I hope they don’t take me to the MICU. I’m convinced Dr. McCarthy lives there. I imagine him sleeping in the hallway with his white coat as a blanket, prepared for anything and everything. A vacation for Dr. McCarthy is heading down the street for a coffee and back.

“Alright, boys,” I say. “Fess up. What was my sugar?”

The two EMTs look at each other before swinging their gazes toward echoing footsteps. I lean forward only to quickly jolt backward to hide. The cute one rolls his lips together to hide a smirk.

Dr. McCarthy walks past us, and I breathe out a heavy breath when he’s out of sight, but then he takes one step backward, rolls his head toward me, and blinks once. “Taytum…”

Damnit.

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