Page 7 of Sick of You

Again, super weird to categorize the assistant director of the David Beaufort University Hospital Division of Infectious Disease Fellowship Program and my faculty mentor in the “attractive man” category alongside this Davis dude.

I liked Dr. Donaldson. I’d learned more about infectious disease in my fellowship with his department than I’d ever dreamed. He was handsome, sure, but he was far too reserved for me to ever consider him in a romantic light.

And “reserved” was generous. As far as I knew, he had no family, pets, or even houseplants. He’d been born thinking about bacteria, his closest friends were viruses, and a t-cell tucked him in at night.

Fortunately, he only saw me as a bright and eager fellow. I didn’t have much room to criticize his dedication, but I did have my oldest sister for a roommate. And Phil the silver stripe philodendron.

“Do you think we need to work on the abstract, pull people in more?” I asked Dr. Donaldson. We fell into an intent conversation about our work, neatly cutting Davis out until we’d reached our cruising altitude and Dr. Donaldson excused himself. Left without a convenient shield, I leaned down to get something—literally anything—from my bag. Why had they discontinued in-flight magazines?

I wasn’t fast enough. “So, how did you two meet?” Davis asked.

“Work.”

“Right, but... how did you start dating?”

Againwith this? I glared at him, almost tempted to lie so he’d leave me alone. But I could never do something so low. “We’re not.”

“Really?”

“Of course not. Dr. Donaldson is the assistant director of our department’s fellowship program.” I didn’t add that I was still in that program; I would be practicing independently as a doctor had I not taken this fellowship. “It would be unethical.”

Davis glanced in the direction Dr. Donaldson had gone. “Does he know that?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he’s up to date on the hospital’s code of ethics.”

Davis gave a little laugh. “I meant, doesheknow you’re not dating?”

“Of course he does. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He held up both hands, palms out, defensive. “But have you really not noticed?”

Echoing defenses rose in my chest. I should have ignored him, continued with my life, read a book, anything. Instead, I had to know what two strangers in a row were seeing that I had missed. “Noticed what?”

I would have thought he was doing this to be annoying—some dude bro’s version of having game (which has to be a dude bro concept in the first place)—but a little crease appeared between his dark eyebrows as if he were actually puzzled. “The way he leans into you when you talk. The way he watches your responses, like he wants to make sure you’re onboard. The way he automatically put your carry-on in the overhead bin.”

As he listed each example, my mind replayed my interactions with Dr. Donaldson in the few minutes we’d been around Davis. That wasn’t—that couldn’t be right. Dr. Donaldson was being professional. Courteous. Friendly. He knew I couldn’t think of him like that.

Davis shrugged as if his conclusion was as inevitable as gravity. “In his mind, you’re already in a relationship.”

Inevitable as gravity? We were in an airplane. “A professional one.”

“Again, does he know that?”

“That we work together?” I shot back.

Once again, Davis held up his hands.

I checked the aisle, then leaned toward Davis and lowered my voice. “I know you couldn’t know this, but Dr. Donaldson is a highly respected expert on infectious disease and an excellent doctor. Surely you wouldn’t suggest that a stranger whose name you already forgot is breaking professional standards of morality.”

Davis moved closer—considerably closer than Dr. Donaldson had, thank you very much—and matched my volume. “I’m not saying you’re sneaking off to the break room together every five minutes. I’m saying he’s into you, and if you’re not into him, now is probably the time to let him down easy.”

I opened my mouth to insist that he was wrong, but... I had nothing. Instead, my gaze locked on his, and I realized how startlingly blue his eyes were. Also, I realized that the only guy I’d been this close to since my last boyfriend was my dentist.

No offense to Dr. Bert Kerr, DDS, but he had nothing on this Davis dude. He was quite possibly the handsomest man I’d ever seen in person—and my face was still just inches from his.

I did not like this guy. From the minute we’d met, he’d been needling my last nerve.

So why didn’t I want to move?

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