Page 49 of Deeply Examined

I flashback to West walking into that exam room months ago, the zing that went through my body at the sight of his gorgeous profile.

Thatwas chemistry.

Thisis not.

“I’m sorry, but I’m really not interested.” My drinks are waiting for me at the end of the bar. I twist in Dylan’s arms and reach for them, but he holds onto me, his grip tight. I’m just about to tell him to let go when a deep voice has me wheeling back around.

“Get your filthy hands off my date.”

West stands there, his expression pinched with anger. If he were a cartoon character, steam would be coming out of his ears.

Dylan doesn’t budge. He just glares back. “Fuck off, West. I’m talking to the lady.”

“You’re about to be talking to my fists.” West balls his hands by his sides and takes a menacing step forward. “I said,Leave. Her. Alone.”

“Why?” Dylan asks. The congenial man from a few minutes before is gone. Instead, he morphs into someone who oozes bitterness. He raises his voice until it’s loud and mocking. “What are you going to do, West? Count?”

West’s face darkens even further with that, but he doesn’t back down.

Dylan continues, “We’ve all heard you do it. 1, 2, 3. You fucking psycho.” He speaks even louder, catching the eyes of the people in line to make sure they’re listening to this exchange, which they are. More and more heads turn our way.

“Everyone talks about how insane you are behind your back,” Dylan sneers, so focused on West that he doesn’t notice me ducking under his arm to escape. “You think just because you’re good-looking and did well at school you can get away with murder, but that’s not the case.”

West steps closer and quietly hisses, “You’re jealous of the grant money I got from the University of Illinois. Don’t try to pretend this is about me when, really, it’s about you.”

A whining tone comes into Dylan’s voice. “That wasmymoney, and you know it. I had the better proposal.” Just as I squirm free from his arm, Dylan grabs my wrist and drags me back. “You take something from me, and in return I’ll take something from you.”

If I weren’t so busy trying to get away, I’d smack myself on the forehead for not seeing it sooner. Dylan’s flirting with me was a set up. He knew who I was all along. Probably noticed me bidding during the auction and thought I’d be the perfect weapon for revenge.

The realization infuriates me. I yank my arm out of Dylan’s grasp just as West winds up his fist to punch him in the face. Before West can make contact, I grab his arm and pull it down. His strike misses Dylan by inches. The crowd gasps, people gathering around now to see what the fuss is all about.

“West,” I say, willing his eyes to meet mine. “West, stop. He’s not worth it.”

West doesn’t hear me. His venom-laced stare is directed at Dylan. He brushes me off and brings back his fist. I throw both my hands over his forearm and yell, “I said, knock it off!”

West tries to shake me loose for a second time, but I hold on and hiss, “Are you really going to give up medicine for this loser? Because that’s what’ll happen if you hit him. Then how can you help those women in your clinic? The depressed ones? The ones who need you?”

That gets his attention. He lets out a frustrated growl, but he drops his hand and allows me to drag him away. I lead him past the whispering crowd and out of the room, into the long hallway that goes to the lobby. A set of bathrooms is off to the side, hidden behind a large potted bush with glossy green leaves and white flowers so large they droop under their own weight.

I head for the plant, intending on tucking us behind it until West cools off, but that’s not what happens. As soon as we reach the restrooms, he takes over, grabbing me by the wrist so hard that I wince. With one foot he kicks the door to the women’s restroom open. He barges in, lugging me behind him. Two women dressed in fancy ball gowns are inside washing their hands at the double sink.

“Get out,” West barks at them with so much authority that they don’t even question him. The ladies gather their beaded handbags and scurry out of the room. West lets me go with a small shove forward. I stand and rub my aching wrist as I take in the elegant bathroom with its dimly lit wall sconces, rubbed bronze fixtures and paneled walls. A vase of fresh flowers sits next to the sink. Without a word, West turns his back to me and flips the deadbolt on the door, locking us in together. Keeping his back to me, I hear him whisper, 1, 2, 3, 4. He gets to twenty and then takes in a deep breath.

When he turns to face me, his expression is so dark and murderous that I move backward, away from him. I continue back, each step matched by one of his own as he comes closer. The wall behind me stops my back-pedaling.

“Why are you mad at me?” I squeak, alarmed by the rage I see blazing in his eyes.

“I fucking hate it so much. What just happened.” His palms land on each side of my head. He cages me in with his body, so close I can feel the heat of his skin burning against mine.

“I’m sure they’ll forget those things Dylan said,” I rush to reassure him, to smother his anger.

“I don’t give a fuck what that dickhead said. Don’t care what anyone thinks about me.” His face is inches from mine. His chest presses against me, flattening me against the wall.

“Then why are you so upset?” I cry out, baffled by the intensity of his reaction.

His lips move to my ear, his stubble chafing my cheek. “I hate that he touched you. If you hadn’t stopped me, I would have killed that bastard.”

I search his face, sure he must be bluffing, but find only fury, which is terrifying. My mouth gapes open, and my mind empties until some primitive part of my brain takes over. It tells me to run.

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