Page 85 of Attached At Heart
I didn’t know what was happening between us, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it. Way more than I should.
“I hear an apple a day keeps the doctor away,” I murmured, licking my lips before letting them curve into a tilted grin.
Blake’s entire body locked up for a moment before he seemed to figure out how to speak again. “If you’re trying to keep me away, you’re doing a really poor job of convincing me right now, Delaney.”
“Mm.” I took another bite. “Good.”
“You didn’t ask me to stop,” he commented, his voice strained.
“No.” I swallowed slowly. “I didn’t.”
“You like it when I look at you, Lane?” His phone dinged before I could reply, but his eyes didn’t stray from my mouth when he said, “The Uber must be almost here.”
“Let’s go, then.” I put the apple back in his open hand, which hadn’t moved since I took it from him. Then I smacked my lips and smiled.
“Grab a jacket.” Blake cleared his throat. “I don’t want you getting sick from all that…exposed skin.”
I turned to do as he said but not before catching how his eyes shimmered with something dangerous.
And I wondered if I was ready to figure out what exactly it was.
nine years ago
DELANEY
“Do you think the library would notice if I stole one of their big whiteboards on wheels?”
“I think you might draw some attention pushing a huge whiteboard out of the library, yeah,” Blake replied calmly as he typed on his laptop.
“Ugh,” I groaned. “This tiny-ass diagram is way too small for me to study off of.” I waved the piece of paper in front of him, which had a drawing of the human body that needed to be correctly labeled for anatomy dissection. “And I just need something more, I don’t know, hands-on or something big to scribble all over, but I can’t focus in a setting where I’m not in control of the environment, and I?—”
“Hate to break it to you, Lane, but that might be something you need to work on. Pretty sure hospitals are not exactly environments you can control completely, but you’ll still have to bring your A game every day.”
Blake looked up at me from his screen, his expression empathetic despite his words—the ones that had sent a shockwave of reality through me. I breathed in through my nose to temper my reaction as I nodded silently.
“You’re right,” I croaked after a second.
A feeling of defeat coursed through my veins, and I could tell the second that Blake realized.
“But one thing at a time.” He popped out of his seat and grabbed a marker from the table. “If you need a life-sized diagram, I can help you out with that.”
And then Blake did the last thing I expected and whipped off his shirt.
My lips parted, my words stuck in my throat.
Blake London was… I shook my head, refusing to finish that thought.
He was my friend; that was all.
And the only thing I should be thinking about was how he was willing to help me.
By lying on the floor half-naked so I could write all over him.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
blake
DELANEY AND I HAD had meals together on countless occasions. Takeout pizza on the floor of our crappy med school apartments, sandwiches on the lawn between classes, drunken late-night Taco Bell cravings, and even nice dinners, like our graduation night or when I took her to Giovanni’s in Boston.
