Page 93 of Undeniably Enemies

“You’re a tease.” I toss her towel at her and grab mine to wipe my face and neck. She does the same with hers and I try not to watch. Especially when she runs it down her neck and across her upper chest.

“Maybe. But I know you stopped for me so that means I’m buying.”

“No way, Cinderella.” I grab her by the arm, trying not to think about how warm and soft her skin is or the last time I felt it this sweaty. I remember what it tastes like when it’s like this, and I’d give anything for another taste now. “Drinks are on me.”

“I could go for a real drink,” she states as she stares up at the menu of the smoothie stand inside the gym.

I glance down at her. I shouldn’t. I mean, I really shouldn’t. This is the most we’ve talked and hung out in a non-adversarial way, and I want to keep it going. If this is all I get of her, I’ll take it, even if it’s not nearly enough or anywhere close to what I want.

“Do you want to grab an early dinner with me?” It slips out, but I don’t take it back. I’d kill to take her out for dinner. To go on a date with her even if it’s not a real date.

She glances up at me, surprised by my offer. “I’m kind of gross.”

You’re kind of beautiful. “Another time,” I say indifferently and turn back to the menu.

“How come you’re here today? I never see you at this time and I’m always here. Besides, I thought you ran into and home from work.”

“I do, but I like to do weights too. Callan asked to switch shifts. He’s trying to be with Willow more and the board is taking forever to make its decision so he’s still a bit stuck with his schedule.”

“Huh,” is all she says before it’s our turn. I wave for her to go first and then I order, knocking her out of the way when she tries to pay.

“This is like when you bought me dinner,” she grouses, taking her berry smoothie over to the picnic benches they have in here and taking a seat.

“Damn, I’m such a jerk. What a dick I am for buying you dinner and a smoothie.”

She rolls her eyes at my sarcasm as I take the seat across from her. “I’m not used to men buying me drinks or dinner.”

I glower at that. “What the fuck kind of assholes have you been dating?”

“I don’t date,” she answers and before I can jump all over that, she comes back with, “Do you always buy your dates food and drinks?”

“I don’t date much either and I haven’t in a very long time, but whenever I do take a woman out, I always pay. I don’t care if that makes me old-fashioned or whatever. I know you can buy your own smoothie and salmon bowls. Hell, you could probably buy this gym and that restaurant if you wanted to. But Ilike being the guy who treats even though you don’t need me to.”

She takes a large sip of her drink and mumbles, “I like it” under her breath.

I hide the way that makes me feel by taking a sip of mine. “You want some?” I hold my cup and straw out to her.

Without answering, she climbs up onto her feet and leans across the table. Her lips close around my straw as she sucks in until she fills her mouth with blueberry smoothie.

“Mmm. Good.” She swallows. “I like mine better though. Here.” She holds out her cup for me and I do the same to hers as she did to mine while trying not to think about the fact that we’re sharing straws and spit and that’s an intimate gesture. Not something only friends typically do.

“I like yours better too.”

We drink our smoothies, going back and forth about work and what being an intern in the ER will be like for her. When we’re finished, I get up and throw out our cups.

“Walk me home?” she asks, and I want to take her hand and hold it as we leave. I want an excuse to touch her again, and this is torture. Being this close and not having her is killing me. And for what? Because she said goodbye? Because she told me it couldn’t happen? Fuck.

“Where’s your car?” I question.

“I drove it home and walked since parking here sucks. I just don’t love the walk home in the dark.”

I don’t like it for her either and I wonder if she’ll give me her schedule of when she comes here. If I can rearrange mine to match it so she doesn’t have to walk in the dark, even if it’s only a few blocks.

“I know you have your trauma surgery rotation next. What’s after that?” I ask as we step out into the cold Boston evening, the streets packed with the after-work crowd.

“Trauma surgery is followed by family medicine again. I also signed up for an ER elective as an away rotation in the spring at BMC.”

Exaggeratedly I wipe the dried sweat from my brow, and she laughs.

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