Page 11 of Lovetown, USA
I reach up and pull her sunglasses gently by the bridge. Our eyes lock instantly, and I’m the first to look away. That shit ain’t like me.
“What was I saying?” I ask, and now I’m the one who’s embarrassed.
“You were telling my what causes tetanus.”
“Right.” Fuck, she’s so damn pretty. Them pouty ass lips, my God. “Did you clean the wound last night?”
“I ran cold water over it.”
“Yeah, that doesn’t count.”
I place her wounded hand on her lap and stand.
I grab what I need out of the cabinets, then I set about taking care of Ms. Washington.
Clean. Irrigate. Suture. Dress. She doesn’t so much as flinch through the entire ordeal.
“Keep this dry for the next forty-eight hours,” I say. “My nurse will give you a care sheet you can follow along with when you get home.”
She nods.
“Now, when was your last tetanus shot?”
“I have no idea.”
“Have you had any shots in the last ten years?”
She stares up at the ceiling, then sighs. “I have no idea.”
“Well, a booster can’t hurt you, so if you’re really worried, I can do that today. But it’s my professional opinion that you’ll be fine.”
“What about my sore throat?”
“That could be something else. Strep. COVID. Allergies. With tetanus, symptom onset is usually a few days after injury, and jaw stiffness is far more common than a sore throat.”
“I’ll take a strep test, then. And a COVID test.”
She says this like she’s ordering off the menu at Burger King.
I grab a swab and stand in front of her.
“Open for me.”
I swab as gently as I can without looking into her eyes, then drop the swab in a vial.
“That went well, right?”
I look at her, brows creased. “What do you mean?”
“The test. No gag reflex,” she deadpans.
I pause, meeting her eyes.
She smirks. “Just saying.”
I clear my throat and drop the vial into a bag. “That’s…not medically relevant, but thanks for sharing.”
And now I’m hard.
