my little corner of the world

frozen in time [2.6K]

summary: memories come flooding back when you’re called to help a drowning victim. The past causes you to have a panic attack, even though you try to push past it, you can’t get the picture out of your head. When you reach the PTMC, Robby is there to comfort you.

animal crossing [6.7K]

summary: first impressions are everything. Sadly, your first impression wasn’t too good. When your dog escapes from your house, it sprints straight into the road. Normally, your side of town is peaceful; however, a motorcycle cruises by. Michael Robinavitch turns his head and sees you screaming at him. when he realizes you’re yelling at him to watch out, and he sees a dog running in front of him, he brakes and turns the handlebars. after he slides his bike, you’re stuck helping the grumpy man.

play along | part one [6.0K]

summary: the day jack abbot asked you to pretend to be his girlfriend, you nearly died from shock. although he tells you he’s trying to make a girl he likes jealous, he is actually trying to make the guy you secretly like make a move. michael robinavitch has caught your attention since the first time jack invited the both of you over. even if you didn’t tell jack about your crush on his friend, he could tell. while the two of you pretend to date, michael’s attention is on you and the man who is on your arm. will he finally make the move you’ve been waiting for?

Dr. Jack Abbot

favorite neighbor [5.5K]

synopsis: living next to jack abbot proves to be difficult when you secretly have feelings for him. after your first date with a guy your friend sets you up with, your favorite neighbor, jack is there to comfort you when it fails.

Dr. Dennis Whitaker

returning the favor [7.5K]

summary: After leaving your old life behind, you start fresh by working at a local coffee shop. One day, you embarrass yourself as well as a blonde man named Dennis Whitaker. Both of you end up hitting it off after the awkward first encounter and can’t help but chat with each other. Your coworkers start meddling with the growing relationship between you and the doctor. However, after injuring yourself at your workplace, you find yourself being treated by none other than Dennis Whitaker.

His hazel eyes scan you, his lips tugging into a smirk when he sees the red dancing on your cheeks. Jack’s hands loosen their grip, allowing you to take a step back before he catches your hand in his, restricting you from completely walking away. Robby glances at your hand that was just resting on his arm before opening his mouth.

“We were getting ready to come find you,” his brown eyes tear away from your intertwined hands, clearing his throat. “They were trying to get me out there, so I asked her if she wanted to join. After the song, we were going to find you before I left.”

“Robby, it’s fine, man. I’m happy you two found each other,” Jack laughed, clapping his free hand on his friend’s shoulder. Your eyes catch Robby’s, and Jack quickly opens his mouth as if realizing something. “Wait, you’re leaving?”

“Yeah, I have to work in the morning. I didn’t even plan to stay this long.” The brunette in front of you scratches the back of his head while talking, slightly grimacing as he speaks. Slowly, his hand slides from his neck to his shoulder, then down to his side. You track the movements, watching as his hand tenses alongside his leg. When you glance up, Robby’s eyes are on you, neither of you hiding the way you stare at each other.

Jack glances between the two of you, biting back a smile before clearing his throat. “Man,” he sighs, “I was actually going to ask for a favor. I just got a call from work, and I told them I’d swing by to help since I’m off tomorrow.”

“You want me to go in for you?” Michael huffs a laugh. Jack’s face contorts, and he waves his hand in the air.

“Oh, no,” he quickly responds, “I was going to see if you could drop her off for me. I have a change of scrubs in the truck, and I was going to just go straight to the hospital. That way, I could get there quicker. Apparently, there’s a whole bunch of people getting rushed to us after something happened at a nightclub. I didn’t get to hear too much because of the music here and the chaos there.”

“That means tomorrow is going to be a shit show,” Michael groans. You are trying to get your fake boyfriend’s attention so you can plead with him not to do this to you.

“I’ll get an Uber,” you quickly say, “He has to work tomorrow morning, and it’s already late. Also, they need you at the hospital. It’s not a problem. Definitely not the first time I’ve Ubered.” When you fish your phone out, Jack grabs it from your hands.

“I will drive you home before you Uber,” he sends you a dumb look.

“I know you’re weird about them, but trust me, it’s fine,” you roll your eyes. When you try to grab your phone from him, Jack sends you a pointed look. “Jack.” Your voice holds a certain tone for multiple reasons.

“I can drive you back,” the man in front of you says. As the burning feeling in your face returns, Jack looks you up and down with a smile, then he tilts his head toward his friend.

“Are you sure? You really don’t mind?” Jack asks him. Michael pulls his lips into a thin line, his shoulders raising, then he shakes his head while releasing a breath.

“No, I don’t mind. Am I taking you to Jack’s-”

“My house,” you cut him off. The way you say it has Jack biting his bottom lip, trying to hold the way he wants to laugh. “But, you don’t have to, seriously. Even though he’s weird about it, I am more than capable of getting home.”

However, Michael shakes his head, glancing to the exit. “I don’t mind. I’ll meet you over there when you’re ready.” He excuses himself but wishes his friend luck with the shift he picked up.

When he’s far enough, you don’t even think about it before smacking your friend in the stomach. Jack throws his hands up and laughs at your flaming face. “Hey, what’s that for?” He lamely questions, his voice is higher than normal. You shove your finger in his chest, pressing hard enough that he mumbles a quiet, ‘ow.’

“I’m going to kill you, Jack Abbot. I swear to you, if I survive this night, you won’t survive the next,” you whisper low enough so no one hears. Jack’s lips pull into a slow, teasing smirk as he leans toward you.

“If you survive the night? Already thinking of what you and Robby can do–”

Another smack to his chest causes a laugh to fall from his lips. “You’re a sick, old man. I don’t understand why I’m friends with you. A dog. You’re a dog.”

One moment, you were relaxing with your friend, watching your favorite show together while sipping on a drink. The next second, you’re spitting your drink out, wearing it down the front of your shirt. The man to the side merely lifts his cup, taking a swig from it with a glint in his hazel eyes.

“I’m sorry? You want me to do what?” You wipe the drink from your face, coughing. Jack sighs as if the thought of repeating himself is exhausting before setting the cup down.

“I want you to date me,” he repeats nonchalantly, “well, I want you to pretend to date me.”

“Okay, start with that next time. Oh my god, Jack. I almost died,” your throat is still scratchy from the coughing fit you had after nearly choking on your drink. Your silver-haired friend’s eyebrows raise at your words while laughing at you.

“I didn’t realize the thought of dating me would send you to such an early grave,” he jokes while nudging your shoulder with his. Your body jostles from the impact while you quickly go to defend yourself.

“Well, how else would you expect me to respond? We’ve been friends for how long now? Then, we’re in the middle of our new episode, and you randomly go, ‘Hey, will you be my girlfriend?’” You mock his deep voice. Jack rolls his eyes, scoffing at your impression.

“I didn’t say that,” he levels his face with yours with a dumb look.

“I’m sorry,” you hold your hands up, adjusting the way you sit. “‘Hey, weird question. Will you be my girlfriend–well, my pretend girlfriend?’ Better?” The tone of your voice holds obvious sarcasm as you question him.

Jack sits and ponders your reenactment with pursed lips, tilting his head to the side while thinking. You can’t help rolling your eyes at his antics; he hasn’t changed since you two became friends. “Well, it’s an improvement from the first one, that’s for sure.”

“Why do you need me to be your pretend girlfriend anyway? That one came from left field. Hey, look at what they just did in the new episode–oh yeah, wanna go on a date with me later?” Your voice goes deep, mocking him once more.

“I don’t sound like that,” he sneers, squinting his eyes at your impression.

“Oh yeah? What do you sound like then?”

“Sexy, like this,” he gestures to himself. You snort at his cockiness, throwing a pillow at him before getting up from the couch as the credits roll on the television. “Where are you going?”

“Away from you,” you scoff, “Your ego is suffocating. Hard to breathe.”

“See, I already leave you breathless, so let me take you to dinner, and we can pretend. Well, apparently, I take your breath away as is, so I’ll have to pretend.” He smirks when you toss a nasty look over your shoulder. “Come on, I’ll pay.”

“Obviously, you’re paying. If I agree to this–which this is not me saying yes, so don’t get it twisted–you’re taking away precious me time. I don’t get much of it, so the least you can do is pay for the meal.”

Jack chuckles at your words and quickly stops when catching the expression on your face. “Of course, your precious me time that you never get. What does your ‘oh so busy’ schedule consist of besides sitting on the couch watching TV and reading your books that would kill your grandma if she opened them?” He interrogates you, while also reading you to filth.

Instead of answering his question, you suck your bottom lip in and run your tongue over it while letting out a fake laugh. “You know, most people are nicer when they need a favor. You, my friend, are not exactly making me want to help you with whatever you’re trying to do. Which are you going to tell me, why you need this date, or what? Trying to impress your boss? Proving to someone that you can get a date? Making someone mad? Why on earth do you need a fake girlfriend?”

“There’s a girl I like, but I need to give her a little extra motivation,” he shrugs. You pause your movements, head snapping in his direction before huffing a laugh.

“Wait,” you shake your head, “you’re using me to make a girl jealous?”

The way you laugh incredulously has Jack tilting his head at you with a questioning look. “Is there a reason why that’s funny? I’ve been around long enough to see how girls work. You guys want what other girls have. Toxic but seems to be the thing these days.”

“Jack, I’m not making anyone jealous. If anything, you’re going to look like an idiot for going on a fake date with me.”

“And why would I look like an idiot? Do you not think you’re capable of making another person jealous?” he nears you, angling his head back as he looks down at you. A disbelieving sound comes from you as your friend corners you in the kitchen.

“Jack Abbot, that will not work on me. Don’t even try it,” you push him backwards and start laughing at him. When you turn to focus your attention on him, he smirks and joins in on the laughter.

“Not even a little bit?” He asks, eyebrows wiggling at you.

“Not even a smidge, I fear.” The words leave you with a sigh as your shoulders drop.

“Someone else you got your eyes on?” Jack follows you, watching as you gather your belongings scattered throughout his house. His question makes you send him a dumb look; the same interrogation is becoming old.

“Jack, how many times do I have to tell you that there’s no one I have my eyes on? Can’t a girl be single in peace? Why must I be interested in someone at all times? Can’t I be an independent woman who isn’t looking for a relationship?”

Your silver-haired friend bites back a smile, squinting as he nods his head at your mini rant. He points at you before opening his mouth to say some smart-mouthed comment; you’ve been around him far too long to know what the look in his eyes means. “If I weren’t interested in someone, I’d definitely say what you just did. I’d also be just as defensive. But, yes. You can be single in peace, and you are more than welcome to be an independent woman. I just thought I saw you looking at–”

“Oh, don’t you even start.” Your hand shoots upward, cutting his sentence short. He stifles a laugh, nearly failing as an almost silent snort sound leaves him. “I’m leaving.”

Jack’s laughter echoes throughout the living room you pace through, trying to get to the front door as fast as possible. Both of you have had this conversation countless times, and nothing good comes of it. He also doesn’t need to witness your face that is currently burning in a frenzy, glowing a shade of red that’s hard to miss.

“You don’t have to leave. I won’t even bring him up. I know you don’t like him. At least that’s what you say, but I’m telling you–”

“As always, it was nice watching the new episode! I’ll see you when you let this go.” Your hand rips open the front door, all but running outside to escape Jack.

He’s quick on your heels, however, His voice carries through the neighborhood as he calls out to you. “Tomorrow night! Wear something nice. We’re going to dinner.”

“Tomorrow?” You spin on your heels to face him.

However, Jack looks anything but guilty as he leans against the pole of the porch, arms across his chest, with an amused smile. It’s now that you realize he can see how flustered you are from his previous interrogation.

“Yes, tomorrow night. Put the yarn down, wear a nice dress, and ditch the sweatpants. We have a part to play, and I need you to play along. We’re going to be the best couple there.”

As tomorrow night rolls by, you find yourself standing in front of a mirror, twirling in your little black dress. It does everything it needs to, squeezing your torso where it needs to, flaring out slightly at the hips, and being the perfect length to be modest yet a little risky. It’s not a dress you typically wear out since you’re not at many fancier dinner parties or dates, so you’re happy to wear it even if it’s for a fake date with your cocky friend.

Speaking of the man with an ego problem, he walks into the room, examining you from head to toe with an approving nod. You roll your eyes, pretending to be annoyed, before putting on jewelry to elevate the look. With your hair done, makeup completed, dress on, and accessories added, with your heels being the final touch, you are thankful you agreed to tonight.

The situation wasn’t ideal, but you felt good. Even if it’s Jack who gives you a practice twirl in your hallway with a crack of a smile playing on his lips. You’re not the only person dressed to the nines, so is Jack. He wears a black button-down top that’s tucked into his slacks. Fancy dress shoes and a watch to spice up his look. Nothing too fancy, but men never have to impress as women do for events like these.

“So what exactly are we doing? Stalking this girl at the restaurant she’s at? Honestly, that’s a little weird. Are you just going to keep following this poor girl around?” You question him.

Jack adjusts the cuff of his sleeves, rolling his eyes at your question. “It’s a work thing, and she’s invited through mutual friends,” he tells you simply. Your eyes widen at his confession, turning to face him in a millisecond.

“Wait, did you say a work thing?” Your words are rushed. Jack lazily glances your way, a little smile sneaking onto his face. “Hello?” He retreats a couple of steps when you wave your hand in front of his face after he doesn’t answer the question.

“Yes, work dinner party. A dinner with some cocktails. Maybe some dancing. It’ll be fine,” he shrugs off the panicked look you give him. When your jaw slightly hangs open, Jack gradually turns to face you, a smug grin on his face as he leans to your height. “Is there a reason why you’ve been gaping like a fish out of water since I said something about it being a work function? Whereas I’d love to say it’s because of me and my rugged looks and impeccable charm, I know you lack taste.”

Even if you’re shocked at the moment, you scoff at the man in front of you and his growing ego problem. “There’s no reason. I’m just shocked, that's all. Is–uh–is everyone aware that this is fake between us at your job?”

Jack looks at you as if you are an idiot and stops fixing his sleeves. “No, if people don’t think we’re in a relationship, it won’t work. I love my coworkers, but they love to gossip. Also, imagine me telling people you are pretending to date me.”

“Oh, the horror. There’s no way a girl could ever resist the charm of Jack Abbot. How could anyone pretend to date you?” You pretend to clutch your pears, gasping as you picture such a terrible reality. Jack turns to face you in the middle of your dramatic flailing with amusement dancing on his face, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches.

“Are you done?” He looks you up and down. Your movements have ceased, a smile still on your face, knowing he’s stuck with you for the rest of the night.

“I suppose,” your voice is tired when you respond to him. Before he waves you away from the mirror, you smooth the fabric down and begin to second-guess your outfit. “Does this look okay?” Jack’s eyebrows furrow when he hears the uncertainty in your question.

“Okay?” He questions with a laugh. “As your friend and a person with eyes, you look incredible. You are not changing. Wait until we get there, everyone is going to be looking at you, going, ‘wow, she’s so beautiful. Oh my gosh, who is she? And who is that man with her? They look amazing.” Jack is doing a variety of different voices as he impersonates the people at the dinner. You huff a laugh when he starts complimenting himself, too.

“You’re so dumb,” you roll your eyes, “and so incredibly full of yourself.” Your hands raise when you say the last part, a grimace on your face. Jack sends a smirk your way, his head tilting to catch your eyes.

“Someone has to be, since you can’t see how incredible your friend is.”

“Okay, let’s go. I need to see the girl who is unfortunate enough to catch your attention. Poor girl doesn’t know she’s going to be dating a man and his ego.”

“Just means she gets to love someone twice as much.”

_______

When you step foot into the dinner party, everyone really can’t keep their eyes off the night-shift attending and the girl on his arm, you. Suddenly, you’re gripping Jack’s arm, commanding him not to let you fall as the weight of their eyes makes you feel like you can’t walk anymore.

It’s incredible how the simplest of things are never difficult until people are watching. Now you feel as though you look similar to a baby deer walking for the first time. Your legs wobble with every step as everyone follows you with their eyes, smirks on their faces, and covers their lips as they whisper something to the person alongside them.

“Jack, everyone is staring. Whispering too,” you grit out. Although your smile is polite, nothing is polite about the way you pinch your friend’s inner arm and growl at him. Jack beams at your words, his pearly whites flashing for all to see as he looks down, pretending to be completely enamored by you.

“Of course they’re staring. Have you seen how handsome I look tonight?” He muses. You scoff at his question, rolling your eyes and looking completely unladylike.

“Oh my god, why did I agree to this? If you say some egotistical thing like that one more time, I swear I’ll–”

“Dr. Abbot, you seem to be the talk of the night.” A woman with a tanned complexion and natural curly hair flows down her back, walks up to the man on your arm.

You purse your lips, instantly cutting yourself off midsentence before she hears the threats you were sending to your friend. Now, you wear your polite smile once more, imitating the picture of a classy and proper person, to sell your part as Jack’s loving, devoted girlfriend.

“I saw that. Well, it’s always something weird for the students and residents to see their attending having a life outside the hospital. Fortunately, I have a life outside the hospital and well–here it is,” he says in a suave tone. When a smirk pulls to your lips, and you almost sneer at his words, it’s his turn to pinch your inner arm.

A gasp rips from you, quickly covering it up as if you are shocked by his words, “Ow-Oh, he’s too kind. I really don’t do much; I feel like my day doesn’t begin until he comes back home. Call it the honeymoon phase, or whatever people say it is these days. But I’ve never met anyone who can make me as happy as he does. Truly,” you glance his way when you say the last part.

Jack is already staring at you, your eyes instantly noticing the way his lips twitch as if he’s fighting the urge to smirk or laugh. Instead, he continues to look down at you, trying his hardest to maintain his composure at your fake words.

“But, oh my goodness, where are my manners? What’s your name? I don’t hear too much about the people he works with. He is very strict about the whole leave work outside thing. Not me, though, I tell him everything.”

“Well, with HIPAA and other rules doctors follow, he can’t really tell you much about what happens,” she speaks in a matter-of-fact tone. Your eyebrows raise at the way she responds, her words and attitude confusing you, whether or not she’s belittling you or simply trying to inform you, as if you’re not already aware.

“Right,” your tone must be unimpressed because there’s a pinch in your arm again. Your smile is tight as the pain registers. “I know, I just wish I knew who is who, you know? I’m all too knowledgeable about HIPAA and things like that.”

She smiles, approving of your response while eyeing Jack for a moment longer than normal. You glance his way; however, he’s still staring at you. Creepy.

“I’m Dr. Baran Al Hashimi,” she reaches her hand that isn’t holding a glass, out for you to shake. You use the one that isn’t wrapped around Jack’s arm to introduce yourself. She stares at both of you once more, doing a noticeable once-over, before smiling at the doctor to your side. “It’s a pleasure meeting you, and have a good time tonight. I hope you can meet the others, they’re a great group of not only nurses and doctors, but people.”

As she walks away, all you can do is smile before turning to look at Jack, a look of ‘what the fuck’ written on your features, clear as day. He doesn’t hold back the laugh that escapes him when both of you begin walking with an unknown destination. Instead, you’re both trying to compose yourselves, clinging to each other’s arms still as you struggle to move normally.

“I have a life outside the hospital–here she is,” you snort, legs wobbling. Jack throws a look your way, wiping the corner of his eyes while supporting the majority of your weight. “Since when did you become such a sap? Ugh, is that how you act in front of people at the hospital? Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”

“I didn’t know how truly happy I made you,” he fires back, “My day doesn’t begin until he comes back home.” It’s his turn to mock your voice, and you don’t even try to hold your amusement in. Your body shakes with every laugh, and Jack even cracks another big smile, remembering the entire interaction from seconds ago.

“Oh my gosh, that was good,” you gasp, wiping tears from your eyes. When you look up, everyone has little smirks, knowing smiles, or looks of jealousy as they observe Jack and you. “Speaking of staring problems,” you clear your throat, “No one looks at their girlfriend for that long. Seriously, Jack. It’s weird. Did you even look at her–speaking of her–is that her?”

“I’m not telling you,” he leans down to whisper-sing it. When your head snaps to him, he simply smirks and stands to his full height.

“I don’t get to know who the girl is? Are you serious? I’m over here playing house with you, and I don’t even get to know who she is? Jack, that’s not fair.” You feel childish, but you really wanted to know who caught his eye. It’s been a while since he’s been truly into someone, and it was only fair for him to tell you after doing this for him.

“No, I want you to act the same with everyone. If you know who it is, I know you’re going to leave the conversation so we can talk. When my plan works, then I’ll tell you,” he guides you through the crowd.

“Jack, if you don’t tell me, I’m not–”

“Jack?” A familiar voice catches your attention. You freeze in your tracks as your friend stops walking and turns toward the voice.

“Hey, man,” Jack lets go of you. The sound of them hugging and separating is slight, but you still hear it.

“You brought a date?” The man questions. As you attempt to sneak away, Jack catches your hand, gently pulling you into the conversation.

When you’re tugged to your friend’s side, you can feel the thud in your chest, slowly raising your eyes to meet the brown ones of the man standing in front of you. His eyes widen when it registers who stands at his friend’s side, glancing between both of you, slightly leaning back as the news washes over him.

“Oh, wow,” he says indifferently. “I thought you two were–uh–friends. When did this start?” Robby takes a swig from the now-empty cup in his hand. Suddenly, your mouth is dry, and you’re unable to lie. Instead, you continue to stand there, heart painfully pounding against your chest.

“Probably about a month ago, right?” Jack says, pulling back to look at you with a soft smile. You clear your throat, face flaming as you nod instead of talking, not quite trusting yourself to talk yet. Jack searches your face, a soft smile now turning into a smug one, before his hand rests on the middle of your back. “We were friends, but I couldn’t imagine someone else swooping in and taking her. I mean, the fact that no one has made a move on her has always been crazy to me. So, who better to be with her than her friend, who already cares about her?”

You finally pry your eyes from Michael, who stares at Jack with a look you aren’t able to describe. They stare at each other for a couple of seconds, Jack wearing an all too knowing, smug smirk, and Michael simply staring at him. The silence is broken when the dark-haired man clicks his tongue, a terse laugh coming from him before he looks at you. His brown eyes are drawing you in almost immediately as he sends a thin smile your way.

“I hope his charm doesn’t wear off too fast. But, you look good tonight,” he says stiffly. Your breath hitches, face flushing even more as he watches Jack run a hand down your back.

“Doesn’t she?” Your friend questions, his eyes scanning your every reaction. Finally, you inhale a shaky breath in, not sure how to feel under all the attention on you.

“Thank you, Michael.” Your voice comes out normally, which you’re thankful for. He delivers the same tense smile, the feature looking more annoyed than anything; however, you’re confused as to why. “As for his charm,” you clear your throat, glancing at your face, who searches your face, “It hasn’t worn off yet.”

“Oh, trust me, it won’t,” Jack smirks and swings his arm over your shoulder, squeezing where the dress doesn’t cover. Michael’s eyes track the movement, and he rocks back and forth on his heels before hunching slightly to deliver one last smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Well, you two have a good time. I have to make a couple more rounds, thanks to Gloria. Maybe we’ll run into each other again,” he stretches to his full height, groaning after bringing up Gloria. Jack pats his friend’s shoulder with a smile and wishes him luck.

Although you don’t say anything, Robby looks to you one more time, then the hand on your bare shoulder. Slowly, his eyes trail to your friend, the look in his eyes unreadable before excusing himself to make his rounds with the other guests. Quickly, you begin walking, skin cold from the interaction. Any heat from it leaves you quickly, the pounding in your chest settling to a dull thud.

Jack strolls next to you, hands stuffed in his pockets with a slight sway in his walk. Instead of talking to more people, you find an open table and grab a flute of champagne from a passing server’s tray, then promptly sit down. Your friend thanks the server for you and slowly eases himself into the chair next to you.

He doesn’t need to open his mouth to say anything; you don’t need to turn and see how he’s staring at you either. Jack has accused you for years of having a crush on his friend, Michael. You’ve denied it because you know what he’d do: either tell you absolutely not or play matchmaker. Plus, you’ve heard all about his friend, certified rake of the emergency department. It seems like that, at least from what Jack has told you about his previous relationships.

When you first met Michael, you began asking Jack about him. Your friend couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows and laugh at your inquiries. Teasing you for being into someone who is probably the same age as your parents, however, you were quick to deny the crush accusations. Although he never truly believed you, he left you alone about it. Of course, he still brings it up occasionally, but it’s quickly shot down.

“Well, that was weird,” he puffs out. When you take a sip out of your drink to cure your sudden cottonmouth, he nudges you. “You still there?”

“Yeah, why was that weird?” You rush the question out. At the corner of your eye, you see him send you a pointed look before lightly laughing at your question. Instead of answering, he covers his mouth as he chuckles. “I don’t even want to know why you’re laughing.”

“I’m just wondering why you were so chatty with Dr. Al Hashimi, but as soon as Robby appears, you clam up. Not to mention, it looks like you put twenty layers of blush right now.”

You turn your head away from your head, scoffing at him. “Well, I was shocked that you lied to your friend. Why lie to Robby that you’re in a relationship?”

“Are you upset that I lied?” He leans over the table to peek at you. When you finally turn to meet his gaze, he’s serious but still amused by the situation.

“He might be upset when he finds out you lied to him,” you deflect. Jack’s eyes give you a quick once-over, laughing to himself. “What? I’m being serious. You are supposed to be friends, and you’re lying to him about being in a relationship. It’s weird. I’m sure he’d understand that you’re trying to make a girl jealous. He’s probably done it.” The last part comes out with a certain tone that you don’t mean to do.

Jack reclines back in the chair, looking away with a wide grin, amusement clearly evident. “I think you’re upset that I lied to him. Do you not want him thinking you’re in a relationship?” He shoots back. You sputter at his accusation, your drink nearly spilling when you rear back.

“What? No, why would I care? I’m just saying, he’s your friend. I just think it’s weird, is all.” The way you try to shrug off the question is awkward; the weight of Jack’s words weighs them down. Your rushed words and awkward movements cause Jack to merely nod and pull his lips into a thin line, squinting his hazel eyes at your defensive behavior.

“I don’t know why you care. At least, I have to pretend I don’t know. I think you care that he thinks you’re in a relationship with me. If you’re in a relationship, how would he ask you out? That’s what I think. You’re all stressed and pressed about him being under the impression he can’t make a move now.”

The glass in your hand is quickly emptied as you throw it back, gulping down the drink. Jack barks a laugh when you shake your head. Music starts drowning out the conversations around the two of you, and people flee toward the floor, dancing with their drinks in hand. You didn’t ask Jack what this dinner was about, but you assumed it was a celebration or reward for something with the energy in the building.

“I don’t care if he thinks I’m in a relationship. It doesn’t change anything for me, because even though you can’t get it through your thick skull, I don’t like him like that. He’s a nice guy, and I just don’t think you need to lie to one of your buddies, is all.” You try to sound sincere because you do, in fact, care.

“Okay, good. Because I was going to ask you to dance with me, but I didn’t want you to be all upset with Michael watching.” Jack stands and holds out his hand. You glance down at his open palm and shake your head. “Come on, play along with me. I need this to look real. Maybe she’ll steal me from you when she sees my dance moves,” your friend wiggles his eyebrows at you.

You deadpan, face dropping as his ego returns to him. “The love you have for yourself sickens me. Truly, it makes my gut twist.”

“Good thing I’m a doctor, we can take care of that later. But, first, we have to dance.”

“You know I’m not a good dancer, Jack,” you say as you grab his hand. He smirks at you, remembering all the times he’s caught you dancing at your house.

“I know, but I am.”

As the two of you near the dancefloor, a couple of people who know him chat with him momentarily. You’re introduced to a couple of them before he whisks you away for a dance. Every song is peppy and fun, and you allow yourself to bask in the energy. A woman named Princess came up and stole you momentarily to ask you a barrage of questions and danced with you. When Jack found you again, he shook his head at his coworker and laughed at her little finger-wave to you.

“Ooh, I need you to stay here for a second, there’s someone I need to go talk to,” Jack’s hands leave your arms as his eyes scan the crowd. Before you can say something, he pulls away and is lost in the crowd.

“Okay, I literally know no one here, jerk face. Thanks for leaving me,” you grumble under your breath. Someone’s hand catches your arm as you pass through the crowd. “Uh, excuse me?”

“Where’s Jack?” When you glance at them, your lips slightly part at your bad luck. Michael looks around the group of people, but he cuts his losses on finding his friends when his eyes fall on you once again.

“Uh–he ditched,” you shrug, and Michael’s eyebrow instantly raised. “Oh, not like ditched. He’s still here, just went to talk to someone apparently.”

“Oh, gotcha. How are you liking the good ol’ work party? Did Jack introduce you to everyone already?” He questions, leaning against the wall behind you two. You pull your lips into a thin line; cursing your pretend boyfriend for abandoning you.

“It’s fun, good group of people. But, no. I met Dr. Al Hashimi and—”

Michael’s face tightens at her name, which causes your lips to slowly stretch into a smile. When you tilt your head at him, he takes a sip from his glass, eyes never leaving you. “Not a fan?” You quirk an eyebrow, causing Michael to laugh into his cup.

“Trying to get me in trouble at the party?” His eyes crinkle while he laughs. You shrug and lean against the wall next to the brunette.

“No, I would never,” you smile at him. When a silence passes between you both, you inhale a quiet breath to steady your heart. “Earlier when Jack and I were dancing then, I was suddenly stolen by a girl named Princess. I got an entire questionnaire thrown at me in the middle of a dance. I don’t remember the last time I’ve been asked so many questions about myself.” Robby runs his tongue across his bottom lip as he listens to you.

“Ah, Princess, the Pitt’s biggest gossip,” he drags his words out as if he’s announcing an award. He wiggles his fingers with his free hand while declaring Princess the Pitt’s gossip. Both of you laugh together at a safe distance from the crowd.

“Dr. Robby, I haven’t seen you out there yet,” a young woman points her thumb in the direction of the dance floor. The man to your side chuckles and shakes his head. “Better get out there. Everyone’s been waiting to see those moves.”

You raise your eyebrows while you watch his reaction. He barks a laugh at the young lady he works with, still shaking his head when she turns to leave. “Yeah, you should get out there and show them what you’re made of.”

“You coming with?” He slowly asks, observing your reaction. You laugh at his question, eyes scanning the crowd for your friend. “You don’t have to. I just thought I’d ask since you don’t know anyone here. I’d hate to leave you to the wolves.”

With your pretend boyfriend nowhere in sight, you gradually turn to face the man in front of you. He has a hand extended your way, the gesture causing your hand to beat a little faster. “Uh, sure, why not?” You send him a tight smile. As your hand falls into his, he squeezes it, as if testing out how it feels.

“Just a dance, then we’ll go search for Jack together,” Robby glances at you as you walk alongside him to the dance floor. You nod at his words, turning towards the man, gently holding your hand when you reach the dancefloor. “Is this fine?”

His question is lost on you when he pulls you toward him. Robby’s hands slide from your hips to the center of your back, his finger tracing your spine for a moment. Whereas you want to answer his question or step back, you can’t. Your eyes are locked on his chest as he holds you almost flush to his figure. It feels as if you can’t get enough air from how close he is, how he allows himself to trace the curve of your spine just once. His scruff brushes your cheek momentarily from the proximity, your face turns red from the feeling, and his breath dusts the curve of your neck.

“You didn’t answer me,” he says, voice low. Your heart pounds against your chest, which is pressed softly against him; you're positive he can feel it–if even just a little bit. “Is this fine?” Robby questions again. You hesitate before slowly nodding yes, your hands dropping from his shoulders, and sliding to fall on his upper arms instead.

“Yes, this is fine.” Your voice is practically a whisper when you respond. Robby nods, slightly swaying you to the slow beat of the music.

“Uh-oh, a new bombshell has entered the villa,” Princess whispers while skirting past you. When you look up, shocked, you catch your pretend boyfriend’s eyes, a glint swirling in them.

Robby spins you, and you’re quickly in someone else’s arms. The warmth leaves your skin as Jack catches you with ease, his lips tug into a smirk as he picks up on your flustered state.

“Sorry, I had to leave. I trust Robby is taking good care of you, though, yeah?”

One moment, you were relaxing with your friend, watching your favorite show together while sipping on a drink. The next second, you’re spitting your drink out, wearing it down the front of your shirt. The man to the side merely lifts his cup, taking a swig from it with a glint in his hazel eyes.

“I’m sorry? You want me to do what?” You wipe the drink from your face, coughing. Jack sighs as if the thought of repeating himself is exhausting before setting the cup down.

“I want you to date me,” he repeats nonchalantly, “well, I want you to pretend to date me.”

“Okay, start with that next time. Oh my god, Jack. I almost died,” your throat still scratchy from the coughing fit you had after nearly choking on your drink. Your silver-haired friend’s eyebrows raise at your words while laughing at you.

“I didn’t realize the thought of dating me would send you to such an early grave,” he jokes while nudging your shoulder with his. Your body jostles from the impact while you quickly go to defend yourself.

“Well, how else would you expect me to respond? We’ve been friends for how long now? Then, we’re in the middle of our new episode, and you randomly go, ‘Hey, will you be my girlfriend?’” You mock his deep voice. Jack rolls his eyes, scoffing at your impression.

“I didn’t say that,” he levels his face with yours with a dumb look.

“I’m sorry,” you hold your hands up, adjusting the way you sit. “‘Hey, weird question. Will you be my girlfriend–well, my pretend girlfriend?’ Better?” The tone of your voice holds obvious sarcasm as you question him.

Jack sits and ponders your reenactment with pursed lips, tilting his head to the side while thinking. You can’t help rolling your eyes at his antics; he hasn’t changed since you two became friends. “Well, it’s an improvement from the first one, that’s for sure.”

“Why do you need me to be your pretend girlfriend anyway? That one came from left field. Hey, look at what they just did in the new episode–oh yeah, wanna go on a date with me later?” Your voice goes deep, mocking him once more.

“I don’t sound like that,” he sneers, squinting his eyes at your impression.

“Oh yeah? What do you sound like then?”

“Sexy, like this,” he gestures to himself. You snort at his cockiness, throwing a pillow at him before getting up from the couch as the credits roll on the television. “Where are you going?”

“Away from you,” you scoff, “Your ego is suffocating. Hard to breathe.”

It’s the third month of living in the quaint, two-story, pale blue house, which sits next to your neighbor who loves to help. If someone is doing something, he’s there. If they’re moving something, he’s there. If there’s a porch that needs fixing, he’s heading over there. If someone says their kite is stuck in the tree, the man next door is shimmying up the tree to retrieve it.

The last one is happening in real time, and you are front and center to watch it. You can’t help the scoff you let out as you pull your sunglasses down the bridge of your nose and abandon the book you’re reading to watch. The breeze whistles past as you sit outside on your porch and pushes the man’s shirt tight to his form.

Your eyes drop to his chest as the fabric grips onto it, glued to the shape of his muscles. Next to the tree is your neighbor, who is married, smirking as she watches your neighbor’s arms flex as he pulls himself higher into the tree. Sometimes you debate writing little columns as though you are Lady Whistledown from Bridgerton, and she would be a repeat offender in the unofficial column.

Emerie Lancer, a pretty name for a gorgeous girl who hates her husband. She’s also not your biggest fan because you had confronted her about situations like this. Emerie reminded you that her marriage is none of your business, and maybe you should focus on your failing love life. That afternoon, you laughed at her snarky remark, then realized your love life is, in fact, in shambles.

If you’re asking why, the answer is currently pretending to be a monkey to make the crying child laugh after ruining his kite. A smile tugs slightly at the corner of your lips, but you refuse to let your amusement show when your silver fox of a neighbor glances your way.

Jack catches your eye roll before you dip your head behind the book you’re not even reading. No matter how many times you reread the page, none of the words truly sink in. Nothing can pull you back into the smutty book opened on your lap. It doesn’t matter anyway because every time you turn the page, you can only imagine him as the character in the book. The character doing the things you wouldn’t dare speak about, things you definitely shouldn’t picture your neighbor doing, either.

As you stare at the words on the pages, you hear someone clearing their throat. Lowering your book, the sun assaults your eyes even through your sunglasses. While squinting, a man with silver hair glances down at you, patches of sweat staining his tan shirt.

“To what do I owe the pleasure? You’re ruining my only salvation,” you wiggle your book at him. Jack simply scoffs, rolling his eyes at your comment.

“I haven’t seen you turn a single page of that smut book since you stepped outside.” Jack accuses you. It’s your turn to scoff at him when you put a bookmark in the novel, then set it aside.

“Kind of hard to read when the wind is blowing Emerie’s drool on me,” you scoot back in your seat to give yourself some distance from your neighbor, who lacks personal space. “Also, you’re watching me? That’s creepy. As for the book, you don’t even know what I’m reading. It’s actually a self-help book.”

Jack knows you’re lying through your teeth as he huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, it’s a self-help for sure. Especially when you’re reading with one hand.” He wiggles his eyebrows along with one hand as he pretends to read. This causes your jaw to drop before you stand on your feet, sliding your sandals back on. “Oh, come on. Where are you going?”

You open your screen door and close it behind you. It doesn’t stop Jack from following you inside, though; it’s not the first time he’s been in here, nor will it be the last.

“You’re gross,” you pace away from him. The man who haunts you even in books (where you attempt to escape this messed-up reality), continues following two steps behind. “You’re already older. You don’t want to be a pervy, old man. I hate to break it to you, Jack, but it’s not a good look.”

Jack quirks a brow, tossing a thumb over his shoulder. “Emerie loves pervy old men.” Whereas you know he’s joking, you send him a nasty look for not only bringing up Emerie but even entertaining the idea.

“Listen, I know I judge a lot as is. I’m aware. No shame in my game,” you raise your hands in the air, “But, Jack, I will judge you so hard if you ever do anything with Emerie-fucking-Lancer. She’s married. I don’t care if he’s balding and watches Jeopardy. That’s messed up,” you ramble.

Also, picturing Jack with Emerie makes you sick. Anytime Emerie would talk to you about him, you felt your heart drop. Any little conversations between them or lingering touch from her had that familiar twinge of jealousy in your stomach.

“I’m joking. You know I’d never do something like that,” he levels with you. Although he smiles, Jack’s words carry a seriousness you don’t hear too often. “Besides, you’ll always be my favorite neighbor.”

When the words fall from his lips, your face starts burning, and you turn toward the kitchen counter. Turning around doesn’t help conceal anything because the tips of your ears are on fire, too. Jack walks around the kitchen table and leans against the counter.

“So what are the plans for tonight? Are you doing anything exciting this weekend?” His hands grip the counter as he leans back to catch your eyes.

You don’t hide the way your eyes trail up his body before meeting his hazel ones. He chews his bottom lip while he waits for you to share your plans. Nothing has technically happened between you two; something always ruins moments like these, like you’re about to do.

“Actually, I do.” You clear your throat, standing up straight and too close to your neighbor, who looks down at you. The look in his eyes is too dark, too heavy for your liking.

“Yeah?” He rasps out. You allow yourself to glance at his lips that aren’t far away, just a little less than a foot away.

“Annie set me up with a date tonight,” you say slowly to watch his reaction. The way you say it is like dipping your feet into the water for the first time. If you tell him too fast, you might regret it, but if you say it too slow, you’d talk yourself out of telling him.

Jack’s eyes go wide while he nods, tilting his head with an indifferent look. You carefully observe his movements as he rubs his chin with an expression that turns unreadable, even for you. “Okay.”

“Okay?” You raise your eyebrows. Jack pulls his lips into a thin line and clears his throat after a moment. “What?”

“Nothing, uh, who is it?” He steps away, putting distance between the two of you. This is something you’re used to, no matter how many times you two have gotten close, something happens where you have to remind yourself to put not only physical space, but mental space between each other.

“His name is Andy,” you shrug, but the way you say his name causes Jack to quirk a brow. “It’s her friend, and he’s apparently nice. He’s in the same boat as me. He’s tired of looking and searching in this fucked-up dating pool, so when she heard me saying the same thing, she offered to set me up with him. He’s not bad looking, so that’s a plus.”

You’re not lying either. When Annie showed you a picture, you were shocked to say the least. Annie doesn’t typically understand your type, but he ended up being close to it. The only downfall is that he isn’t the man standing in front of you. But the man standing in front of you is unattainable. It’s not realistic, and you keep having to remind yourself of that.

“So he agreed to go on this date because the dating pool is ‘fucked-up?’” Jack uses fingers to quote you. Although you’re aware he doesn’t mean it rudely, the words sting. As you rear back, a shocked laugh escapes your mouth. When the man in front of you realizes what he said, you simply hold a hand up to stop him from saying anything else.

“Well, if that’s the case, then so be it. I would like to think he agreed to the date because he thought I was pretty, or thought whatever Annie told him was worth meeting. But thank you, Jack. I’m glad you can remind me that this date is probably a waste of my time, and I’ll be crying in front of the TV by myself with a bucket of ice cream later.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” he groans as he steps toward you. When he gets closer, you step back and wave him off. “I really didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know, I get it,” you release a heavy sigh. “But, I need to start getting ready sooo.”

When he stands in front of you with a clueless look, you simply raise your eyebrows at him. It takes a moment until he finally understands what you mean.

“Oh, right,” he points to the door. When you nod at him, he starts walking around the table toward you. As a confused look pulls onto your face, he stops just a couple of steps shy of being face-to-face. “Well, good luck with your date tonight. If you need anything–”

“I know.”

Jack exhales and sends you a slight smile that you try to return. Your neighbor looks upset as he stares at your sad excuse of a smile before lifting his hand. When you glance at it, he seems to think against touching you nd scratches the back of his neck instead.

“I’ll let you get to it then.”

It’s the last thing he says when he turns to walk out the door. There’s nothing more you want than not to go on this date with your coworker’s friend. To be honest, you’ve been dreading it since she set it up. The only man you’ve been interested in is the one who walks across the yard with his head down, kicking stray rocks to the side as he nears his house.

However, you’re tired of this weird push-and-pull game the two of you have. Over the years, you two would have moments where you’re having the time of your life, joking and sharing stories, or moments where you’re so close you could feel his shallow breaths dusting your flushed skin. Too many times, he insisted on helping you do things, covering your hand with his own as he guided you through the proper steps.

The night he came over to help you set up some furniture in your room is still fresh in your mind. Everything was so lighthearted, and it quickly turned to something so different. He insisted on teaching you how to build something you didn’t understand. He sat behind you, chest flushed to your back as he molded himself around you. The way your heart pounded and breath caught in your throat didn’t go unnoticed by Jack.

His touches were featherlight, gentle, but he was purposeful with every single one. He guided you through every movement, his hands running down your arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Every part of you wanted to pull away, but you were so enamored by the way your body reacted to his touch.

When you turned your head to the side, he met your gaze. His eyes were focused on you while yours flickered down to his lips. Jack’s slight smile was soft as he reached to gently tuck a strand of hair that fell forward, behind your ear. The air was thick, making it hard for you to breathe, your chest rising and falling dramatically when he leaned to press his forehead to yours. As Jack moved to close the rest of the space behind the two of you, his phone went off with a call from the hospital.

Never in your life have you felt like someone threw a bucket of ice water on you until then. Jack had squeezed his eyes shut before reluctantly answering the phone and apologizing when he had to leave. After that moment, neither of you brought the situation up. The main reason is that you refused to talk about it, and Jack picked up on the invisible line you had drawn.

He scares you. It’s been a long time since you wanted something this badly, and you refuse to deal with the repercussions of something failing. Having him in your life as a friend is enough for you. Being able to still talk with him and joke around is good enough.

You’re won’t throw away what the two of you have because of that night.

Jack is one of the few men you know who have been nothing but kind and stable. Other than him, they’re practically impossible to find, so you don’t want to lose someone like him for one night of intimacy.

As you pull the rest of the clothes on, you hear a knock at the door. A couple of hours had passed since you allowed your mind to wander about the man in the house next door. You blow out a breath, glancing at yourself in the mirror to make sure nothing is out of place. Once you approve of your appearance, you silently jog toward the door.

When you open it, a guy who kind of resembles the picture is outside your door, standing there with an annoyed expression. You’re not one to care if someone looks different than what they show the world. Hell, you understand. Everyone shows off their best pictures, not the awful ones, and you’re no different than the average person in this situation.

However, Andy looks to be the epitome of ‘women hate me for no reason,’ as he stands in front of you, already frustrated, with a crumpled school t-shirt that fits a little too small as it hugs the slight curve of his belly, red and black basketball shorts, dirty slides with mismatched socks, and hair that is due for a wash.

“Andy?” You questioned. The man sneers at your question, tossing his hands up.

“What? Are you expecting another guy tonight?” He asks you. When your lips part at his question, Andy takes a breath that looks like a ‘calming’ breath. “Sorry, that was rude.”

“Uh, yeah,” you awkwardly laugh. When you cross your arms over your chest, clearly feeling uncomfortable, he sneaks a peek at the little bit of cleavage that is exposed from your movement.

“That’s what you’re wearing to the movies?” His eyes roam your body. You try your hardest to bite your tongue, and you’re thankfully successful before you rip him a new one. Because what the hell is he wearing? The date is the movies, not slam-dunking on kids in school, reliving your high school glory days.

“Yeah, I like to look nice. I was taught that first impressions are everything,” you say with a certain tone to your voice. Like you’re trying to tell him to keep his mouth shut before you shut the door in his face.

“Oh, yeah. First impressions are super important,” he chirps, a serious look on his face. You cough to cover your laugh at his response because him agreeing with you, even as he stands there dressed like that, is hysterical.

“Right,” you drag out. “So are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, which one is yours? I’m going to assume it’s the car, not the truck.” You ignore the way he assumes you can’t drive a truck and stop in your tracks.

“Wait, are you not driving?”

“Do you see a car anywhere?” Andy gestures around the empty spots. There’s no hiding the way your face falls and the sound of your self-esteem crashing in this situation. Is this what Annie thinks you deserve?

“Mine is the car,” you quietly say.

He doesn’t notice the way your feet drag through the grass, as Jack did a couple of hours ago after he left your house. Andy definitely doesn’t notice the way you gaze longingly at the man who steps outside without a shirt on. However, your face burns in embarrassment as Jack struts outside, closer to the man who scoffs at him.

“Don’t own a shirt?” Andy rolls his eyes at your neighbor.

“None that’ll fit you,” Jack glances him up and down, clearly annoyed with the attitude the man possesses. You bark out a laugh, instantly covering your mouth when Andy looks at you with wide eyes.

“Do you think that’s funny? You’re dressed like some kind of whore, busting out the top of your dress and wearing all that makeup.” He spits at you.

Your face falls as you glance down at your figure, anger and embarrassment flooding throughout your body at his comments. Jack’s eyes shoot your way before they swing in his direction. He doesn’t hesitate as he stomps toward the man waiting by your car for a ride.

“Don’t talk about her like that, you greasy asshole,” he grips the front of Andy’s too-tight shirt. Andy’s eyes widen in fear as he attempts to push the shirtless man away from him.

“Hey, help me! Get this guy off me,” Andy pleads.

No amount of restraint could have stopped the scoff from you at the audacity he has to command you to run to his aid. “As if I’d ever help you, are you serious. There will be no date because I would rather be flayed than ever have a conversation with you again.”

“What? How am I supposed to get a ride home?” He yells when you climb the steps to your porch. The words make you spin on the small heel you wear to glare at him; it’s clear you’re seething, but Andy clearly doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about the way he talks to you, even when Jack grips him by the collar of his shirt.

“I don’t know, Andy. I don’t give a rat’s ass either. You can walk home for all I care.”

“Oh, I’ll gladly drive you home,” Jack tilts his head, a menacing smile tugging at his lips.

When you go to say absolutely not, Andy is dumb enough to accept your neighbor’s offer. Jack turns his focus to you, and when he takes a step forward, you quickly lock the door behind you. Locking yourself away like you always do. Closing the door on Jack once again. Shutting him out to make sure something like that never happens again.

His truck hums to life before driving off, and that’s your cue to slide down the door. Your face falls into your hands as tears stream down your face. Your supposed-whoreish makeup is being ruined as you sob from the realization that a love life is near impossible.

You mourn yourself. Mourning the fact that you’re unable to find someone who truly cares about you. You cry as your self-love disappears. Crying as you picture the parts of your body that are too full, the ones Andy pointed out, the ones that you already try to ignore.

It’s hard to breathe as your chest constricts at the overwhelming emotions taking over you. Your back is shaking with every strangled sob you allow to pass. Nothing is held in as you realize how you finally hit rock bottom.

Tonight is proof of it.

As you throw yourself a personal pity party, you decide to do exactly what you told Jack you would do earlier: sit and cry in front of the TV. When you reach the kitchen and grab the spoon, you glance down at your dress again, noticing the way you’re starting to fill it out too much. The spoon is placed back in the drawer and slammed shut as the words from earlier continue to sting.

It takes a moment of staring at the ceiling and trying to blink away the tears before you turn every light off in the house. The rooms are engulfed in darkness as you plop down in front of the TV and press the power button. With the glow from the television and the noise draining out the silence, you sit there, empty and dissociating at the colors on the screen.

Seconds, minutes, or hours could’ve gone by, but you’re unsure how long you’ve sat on the couch, questioning what’s wrong with you to be so incapable of love, when a soft knock catches your attention.

Your movements are slow as you stand from the couch and waddle over. When you get close to the door, something slides through the mail slot in your door. You glance around the dark rooms before squatting to retrieve the piece of paper. The front of it has your name written in boyish handwriting, and you slowly open it out of curiosity, then a soft smile pulls at your lips.

Room for one more?

- Jack

After a minute of attempting to make yourself look at least a little presentable, you deem you look decent enough and pull open the door. Jack doesn’t meet your gaze immediately; instead, he pulls a movie from behind his back with one hand and an ice cream in the other.

Your head falls to the side as you laugh, blinking at the ceiling for a second to compose yourself while he quietly observes you. “What’s the movie?” you ask, trying to distract yourself from the emotions overwhelming you.

“Oh, it’s your favorite,” his voice sounds nervous as he hands the case to you. A quiet giggle falls past your lips, and you instantly cover your mouth to mute yourself. “What? Is it not the right one?” Jack shifts on either foot, his hand clutching the melting ice cream.

“Yes, yes. Sorry, you were right. This is my favorite,” you smile at him. “I was just laughing, because you bought it, when I had already purchased it on my TV.”

“Well, I’m old school.” He reminds you with raised eyebrows

“Old is right,” you joke with him. Jack pulls the ice cream back toward him and gives you a disapproving look.

“Watch it, or I’m eating this.”

“After earlier, I don’t feel like eating at all, so have at it,” you tell him in an empty tone. Even your smile falters a bit as the words fall from your mouth.

“Oh, no. Nope, we’re not doing this,” Jack shakes his head. He doesn’t wait to be invited in as he reaches to grab something from the ground–another ice cream–and walks straight into your place.

“What are you–hey!” You exclaim as he quite literally pulls you into the living room. When you try to say something, he makes you sit on the couch and disappears into the kitchen.

“Here,” Jack reappears with the ice ream and a spoon from your kitchen. You give him a look which he returns dramatically. “I don’t think you realize that I will wait until you start eating. I deal with far more stubborn people at the hospital; I can do this far longer than you can. So save us the dramatics, take the ice cream, and eat it while I put the movie on.”

A second passes as both of you stare at each other with matching raised eyebrows; however, you relent and take the ice cream. Jack mumbles an exasperated ‘thank you’ and spins toward the television. As he does this, you watch as his shoulders and back contract under the thin layer of material of his shirt. While you shamelessly check out your favorite neighbor, you pick up the spoon and begin to eat the frozen beverage, instantly closing your eyes and humming at the taste.

“That good, huh?” He laughs as he closes the DVD player. You send him a closed-mouth smile when he turns to face you. “You got a little something,” Jack points at the corner of your mouth. As you go to set your food down to wipe it, he leans down and sweeps it from your face. You can feel your face burn from the contact, and it only gets worse when he brings his thumb to his mouth and licks it clean. “You’re right, that’s good.”

Not one word falls from your lips as your heart hammers in your chest. The man who caused your flustered state plops down next to you and presses some buttons on the remote until the movie begins playing in the dark room. His gaze is trained on the screen, but your attention is focused elsewhere.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asked you.

“They don’t make those anymore,” you quip while stirring your melting soft-serve. Jack rolls his eyes at your comment and cracks a small smile.

“What are you thinking about? I haven’t seen you look up once. I thought this was your favorite.”

“Stalker,” you scoff at him. Jack sets his ice cream to the side when you sigh and glance at him. “Tonight was a total bust. I’m just-I’m over it.”

“Over what?” He asks you. When the pointed look you gave him earlier paints itself on your face once again, your neighbor slightly waves his hands.

“Jack.”

“Present.”

A small laugh escapes you before abandoning the ice cream on the end table next to the couch. “Dating. I’m over dating. I’ve been on multiple dates, and they’re always a bust. Absolute shit shows to say the least. And, tonight?” You scoff as the memories come rushing back. Jack doesn’t say a word as he listens, his thigh resting against yours. “Tonight opened my eyes. That was my sign that I’m done trying to find someone. If that’s what someone who claims to be my friend thinks I deserve to be with, well then, I’ll pass. I would much rather continue to support myself than be stuck with someone like that. I mean, why would she play matchmaker and set me up with him? Is that what I deserve?” Your voice cracks at the end.

When your glassy eyes find Jack’s, he stares at you with a pained expression. After a couple of sniffles, you throw your hands up and laugh.

“I spent hours getting ready for that asshole, and all he does is criticize me. In basketball shorts and what? A freaking Skims bodysuit?” You try to laugh, make a joke, but your words are wobbly. “That was rude. I’m sorry,” the apology comes quickly. Jack rears back at the statement and shakes his head.

“Do not apologize. You looked–look--incredible. He didn’t deserve you. He doesn’t deserve you,” Jack places a hand on your bare thigh, squeezing it as he leans over. Your eyes drop to his hand, but he doesn’t move it; instead, his eyes search yours as you shake your head. “Don’t say no. Are you serious? You always look good. Don’t let that greaseball get into that head of yours. There’s never been a moment when I didn’t think you looked incredible.”

Your breath hitches in your throat before giving an uneasy laugh, pushing his hand away from you. “Okay, it’s one thing to say he doesn’t deserve me, but you don’t have to lie. I’m not fishing for compliments over here. And, I definitely don’t need you to give me fake compliments to make me feel better, Jack.”

Instead of saying anything, the man to your side scoffs when you’re done speaking. “Fake compliments? Are you serious?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Serious as a heart attack.”

“I’m not giving you ‘fake compliments.’ I’ve always thought you were gorgeous. Why do you think I was always over here helping you with everything? I mean, I like helping people; I suck at saying no to someone who needs help, but I cancelled plans when I saw you getting something delivered. I was waiting for you to get back, so I could come over and help you. Do you think I magically needed to fix something? Hell, one day you were outside reading, and I was pretending to fix something on my truck. There was nothing wrong with it. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Stop,” you hold your hand up, cutting him off. Jack stares at you with a tired expression at the wall you seem to be rebuilding in front of him. “Don’t say all this stuff you don’t mean. I see you flirting with the neighbors all the time. Don’t act like I’m suddenly this prize because Asshole-Andy ruined my self-esteem, and I’m down in the dumps. The last thing I need is for you, out of all people, to say stuff you don’t mean.”

“I’m not saying anything I don’t mean!” He stands and raises his voice. You trace his movements as he runs a hand down his face. “I’m too old to stand here and say stuff I don’t mean. I didn’t come down here and build practically everything in this house from the kindness of my heart. There were days I was getting back from a god-awful shift at the hospital, and I knew it would be a little bit better, because I would be seeing my smart-mouth neighbor sitting outside waiting to say something to me. As for the flirting with the neighbors, yeah, I wanted to get under your skin a bit. I watched you go on countless dates with these guys, so I did some harmless flirting.”

“You know how annoying it was sitting in that room and being so close to being with you that night just for you to act like it never happened?” He asks you. This whole time, you listened and struggled to process the things he told you. “Trust me, I wanted to kiss you. I’ve been trying to get closer to you since, but every time I do, it’s like you take three steps back. You say you’re tired of the dating world? Try being the guy watching you give all these people chances but keeping me–the guy who is always there–at arms' length.”

Jack’s chest heaves as he gestures to himself with an exhausted expression, finishing his rant. Both of you stare at each other, breathing heavy. It’s hard to breathe with the weight of the words being spewed from each other’s mouths.

“I didn’t want to go too far and lose you,” the words are almost a whisper. Jack’s eyes soften at your confession. “You’ve never let me down, and I didn’t want to give you the chance to do it. I thought if I kept you at a distance, I wouldn’t lose you. People can’t disappoint or hurt you if you don’t give them the chance to,” a sad smile pulls to your face.

“You also can’t let someone care for you the way you deserve if you don’t let them in,” he says as he nears you. When he kneels, Jack gently covers your hands with his. You turn your head from him, a wobbly laugh falling from your lips at his words. “I promise you won’t lose me. Just give me a chance, I promise I’m not like those other guys. Let me show you.”

The man in front of you is close as he searches your eyes for anything, never leaving as he awaits your choice. The rhythm of your heart is erratic, and breathing is difficult as his face hovers in front of yours. “Swear it.”

The words are barely audible, but Jack hears them clear as day. A hand grips the back of your head as he levels his eyes with yours. “I swear it. I won’t go anywhere. I’ve been waiting for the day you let me in. I swear I won’t go anywhere if you give me a chance.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes,” you nod when his forehead rests against yours. “You better not ruin this, Jack. You’re the only person I’ve cared about in a while.” It’s weird to be so vulnerable with him, but the weight on your shoulders starts to feel lighter when confessing the feelings that have been held in for too long.

“Give me tomorrow. Clear your schedule, and I’ll prove to you that I won’t ruin this. Let me prove to you that I also care about you. Okay?” He murmurs, lips brushing against yours. Jack smiles slightly when you give him a little nod at his question.

“Okay, tomorrow is yours.”

_____________

Living in the suburbs has been nothing short of peaceful, and it’s nice to enjoy the tranquility instead of the hustle of the city. The only thing you would change is the people who treat the back roads like their personal racetracks.

For the most part, it doesn’t typically bother you. Since you don’t have children, it usually doesn’t affect you. However, there have been moments when you’ve been doing yard work, and they zip past you. One time, someone cut it really close, and you didn’t sleep for a couple of days, replaying it in your head.

So, you run a tight ship in your house. When people come to visit, you make sure no one is standing near the street, and everyone needs to shut the front door quickly. Although your dog, Ghost, can be a flight risk, you’ve been working with him since taking him in. When you took him in, his name was Ghostface, but you couldn’t bring yourself to call him that. It just felt weird telling your friends and family the dog’s name was that.

One of your friends could no longer care for him because they couldn’t handle kids and care for their dog at the same time. So, you were talked into taking their two-year-old dog even though you weren’t really looking for something else to take care of. However, they brought up multiple points, such as: you will have a dog to protect you, he will keep you active, and most importantly, their kids can still visit their first dog.

The first month was rough. Of course, you love your friends, but the lack of training with Ghost was painfully obvious. He wasn’t trained to walk on a leash, chewed everything, and simply wouldn’t listen to you. You had to fence part of your backyard so he could run, and so you could train him to walk properly on a leash.

Every time your friends called to check on him, you lied and said he was an absolute angel. In reality, you were crying in your room over the dog that just chewed parts of your textbooks. The number of times you whispered, devil, under your breath in the first month is too many to count.

However, he slowly started to grow on you like a rash. You always told him this when you both ate dinner in the living room together with a movie playing. But the moment you realized that he would never leave your side was the day you went to get gas, and a man began harassing you. The guy was cornering you, and when his hand reached to feel you up, a menacing growl was heard. Watching the color drain from his face caused a smirk to pull at your lips before you side-stepped to see Ghost frozen, growling at the pervert in front of you. After that situation, you treated Ghost to a Pup Cup that day and promised he would never leave your side.

Today was a different day, though. As you open the back door for Ghost’s daily fetch time, you go to grab the ball from the ground when you notice it. The gate you forgot to shut last night is wide open. It’s too late when you go running because he’s already sprinting to his freedom.

You scream for your dog, tears welling up in your eyes when you hear a vehicle zooming down your street. It’s been a long time since you ran this fast, and you can’t even feel your legs pushing as you move quicker than you ever have. When you see your dog running into the street, you finally see a person on a motorcycle.

“Hey!” You wave your waves while sprinting. Ghost continues his suicide mission to the road where the bike is currently zooming down. “Ghost! Get out of the street!” Your voice sounds demonic as you shout at your dog.

When the person on the bike gets closer, you scream as loud as you can, telling them to slow down and stop. You don’t even realize you’re crying until you gasp for air as they turn their head toward you. It’s an older-looking man who is completely focused on you and looks like he is going to have a heart attack when you point and scream.

“Watch out!” You wail in a blood-curdling scream. The man had thankfully slowed down when you ran at him like a maniac; however, he still isn’t going slow enough to stop before he hits your dog.

Ghost turns his head and stares at you as the bike barrels toward him. It feels like a kick to the stomach as you watch his ears tuck back and tail go between his legs like he knows what is about to happen. However, the man turns the handlebars abruptly, sending the bike straight to the side before throwing himself away from the motorcycle.

The sounds and scenes are sickening to watch, but you’re unable to look away as the bike narrowly misses your dog and the man rolls across the road. You waste no time as you snatch Ghost by his collar and sprint to the man across the street.

“Are you okay?” You panic as you clutch the collar in your hand. The man grumbles curse words while rocking back and forth. “Sir, are you okay? You need to get out of the road.”

“I just fell off my bike because of your damn dog, and you’re telling me I need to get out of the road?” He snaps at you. The harshness causes you to flinch before you look around to see if anyone is coming.

“I’ll be right back, just—uh—stay here,” you dumbly say. If the man wasn’t clutching his arm, he would’ve flipped you off for sure with the look he sent you. “Ghost, house now.”

As you drag your dog in the fastest jog you can manage with him, you hear a disbelieving laugh rip through the air. “Are you seriously leaving me in the street?” The motorcyclist’s voice goes high at the end.

“I’ll be right back,” you call out to him. When you look back, he throws his head backwards and wheezes out an incredulous chuckle. “Get in.”

You quite literally shove Ghost into the house and pull the door shut as fast as you can. As he reappears in the window, you mentally curse at him and storm off in the direction of the man. He had scooted himself further to the edge while you dumped Ghost in the house. When you get close enough, you realize his eyes are closed, his body limp, and he isn’t making any pained groans or comments.

“Oh my god,” you fall next to him, “Oh my god. Please wake up.”

You press your finger to his throat, under the jaw and beside the trachea, to check the carotid pulse. When you press down, his eyes pop open, which elicits a scream from you. He watches with a blank stare as you crawl backwards.

“Better get out of the road before I’m stuck helping the person who just ruined my bike.” His voice is all grouchy, and he simply stares straight ahead at the setting sun, clearly avoiding looking at you. The bike is in the ditch, and although it doesn’t look too busted up, there’s no way the repairs would be cheap.

“Pssh,” you scoff as you stand from the ground, “I didn’t ruin your bike. You turned it into the ditch. My dog got out, and yes, I take responsibility for that. But, maybe you should’ve been driving the speed limit.”

“Wow, really?” his voice rises as his eyes meet yours. You walk closer to him and extend your hand out to help the grouch onto his feet. “Maybe you should keep your dog on a leash if you can’t catch it. Fuck, my head.” He lets his head fall backward, and you can’t help but slightly check him out, even if he was a bit of a grump.

“Maybe if you wore a helmet, your head wouldn’t hurt,” you mocked his grumpy tone. His tongue clicks at your statement before laughing, shaking his head with an annoyed smile. “Now, do you want my help or not?” You wiggle your fingers as you continue standing in front of him with an outstretched hand.

“Not really,” he sends you a tight-lipped smile, “I can stand on my own.”

A wicked laugh leaves you as he waves your hand away. “Yeah, okay, be my guest. I hope you don’t mind if I stand and watch.” Your words drip with attitude as he curses under his breath and tries to push himself to his feet. While he moves, you cross your arms over your chest, and he drops almost every curse word in existence. “How are you doing down there, old man? Help is like two steps away.”

“I’m fine,” he snaps his head to the side. You watch as he tries to push onto his knees, face scrunched up as he groans. The sight isn’t too bad on the eyes, but it’s a shame his grumpy personality comes along with it.

“Wait, because I think I know you,” your finger taps against your lips as you watch him struggle to stand. His gaze meets yours for a second before you snap your fingers, “It was 2007, yes! You were in the Life Alert commercial, ‘Help, I’ve fallen, and I can’t get up.’ Yes! I knew this reminded me of something!”

“Would you shut the hell up?” He shouts at you. When he continues to stare at you in frustration, you pretend to zip your lips and throw the key. His eyes roll before he attempts to push against his knee to stand. However, it’s short-lived as he groans in pain, face contorting in misery, falling back into a sitting position.

It takes a moment while you rock back and forth on your heels before you go to open your mouth again. Just as you're going to ask him if he’s changed his mind, he flips his hand out in annoyance.

“Is someone in need of assistance?” You sweetly ask. When you step closer to him, you want to joke with him, but the lack of amusement on his face keeps you quiet. Instead, a knowing smirk pulls lightly at your lips. “It’d be my honor.” The man glued to the ground doesn’t even crack a smile as you sarcastically bow in front of him.

“Would you be quiet and help me?” He snaps.

“Weird way to say thank you, but I’ll let it slide this time,” you grasp his hand in yours. The way your hand is completely covered causes a not-so-innocent feeling to rush through you for a moment. “Alright, you’re kind of--sorry--but heavy.” You wince after trying to yank him up.

“Well, don’t hold back,” he grunts when you let go of him. Thankfully, neither of you says anything as you crouch down and wrap his arm over your shoulders.

“Okay, on three,” you tell him. When you turn your head to nod at him, you realize you're inches away from him. Unfortunately, your eyes betray you when they flick down to his mouth for a short moment. “One, two, three.”

Both of you grunt as you help lift him to his feet. When he stands to his full height, you awkwardly shimmy away from him with your heart beating faster than normal. As he stretches, grunts and groans escape his lips, and you have to remind yourself to think appropriate thoughts again. Even if your eyes drift down to check him out, noticing the way his shirt lifts and reveals his happy trail. You only look for a second; however, he notices and looks as though he might smirk or say a snide comment.

“Um, if you need to, you’re more than welcome to make some phone calls, get cleaned up, or whatever you need to do before you leave. I know that–uh–your bike isn’t in shape to drive, neither are you, so after everything that’s happened, it’s the least I can do. I also have a first aid kit, and I know a thing or two about patching stuff up.”

“I’ll manage just fine. I’m a doctor,” he grimly says. A laugh escapes you, and your eyes go wide.

“Good one, I’m actually a pilot,” you snort and roll your eyes. When he just stares at you, a long, awkward silence stretches, causing you to release a dramatic breath. “So what do you say? Do you want a place to sit down while you wait, or what?”

“Can we sit in silence?” He raises his eyebrows at you. A sickly sweet, obviously fake smile instantly pulls at your face from his question.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Both of you mirror each other’s fake smiles before you turn to walk back to your house. It’s only when you hear a shuffle and a curse that you realize the stranger still needed help. Neither of you speaks a word when you walk back to him, and he silently lifts his arm over your shoulders. His hand grips your left shoulder as if his life depended on it, and he curses with almost every step. Whereas you’re aware it’s not the time nor place, you are once again reminding yourself to get your mind out of the gutter. Even with a good-looking man grunting, groaning, and cursing against your ear.

“Are we close?” He grunts.

I’m close, but in a different way. You want to say, but instead you smile. “Yep, it’s just a hop, skip, and a jump away.”

“Funny,” his one-word response drips with sarcasm.

As you neared the door, you removed his arm from your shoulders and placed a hand on the doorknob. “I’m going to grab my dog, and I need you to let him sniff you. Kind of get acquainted and whatnot because sometimes he can be a little protective,” a light, uncomfortable laugh ends your sentence.

“What do you mean, protective? What? Is he going to bite me?” His eyebrows raise when he catches sight of Ghost in the window. “That dog looks like it’s going to bite my damn arm off.”

“Maybe try smiling and being less like an old grouchy man from a horror movie, and he’ll play nice. You play nice, he’ll play nice. Make sense?” You quip, a little snappy. The response you receive is silence and a wave of the hand. “Thank you.”

You roll your eyes before quickly stepping into your house. Some of your clothes lay on the floor, and you scurry around, pulling everything into your arms before chucking them into your room. When you reach the front door again, you call for Ghost and clip his leash on. The brindle dog sits next to your feet, ears standing as his tail wagged.

“You ready?” You ask through the crack in the front door. The man outside let out an annoyed sound, and Ghost instantly perked up at the noise.

“Oh boy, am I?” He feigns excitement. It’s hard to resist rolling your eyes at his crappy attitude, but somehow you manage to keep all actions and words to yourself.

The brunette standing on your porch tenses when Ghost steps outside. He’s an intimidating-looking dog, and you’re aware of it. But it was kind of amusing to watch the man who had been giving you a hard time almost shape up when he saw an animal half his size step out.

“This is Ghost,” you tell him.

“Fitting since we both almost ended up as one earlier,” he fakely smiles at your dog.

“He was originally named Ghostface because my friends are big horror fans, but I thought it was weird. People would probably think I’m some kind of weirdo. He was too old to change it completely, so Ghost it is.”

“Ghostface, even more fitting. You know, since you almost killed me.” This earned an eye roll, but you didn’t argue since it’s unfortunately true.

“Speaking of names,” you drag out as Ghost smells the man’s outstretched hand, “What is your name?”

“Michael, but most people call me Robby,” he says. Ghost’s tail begins to wag when Michael scratches behind his ear.

“Michael, Robby. Richard, Dick. Potato-po-ta-to,” your hands wave around. Michael’s eyes meet yours with a blank stare.

“Are you calling me a dick?” He questions. It’s probably the nicest he's sounded since you first spoke. You purse your lips at his question and shrug your shoulders.

“Well, it’s not what I meant. I just meant that some names make no sense for nicknames. Like, where did you get Robby from Michael? But, I’m also not going to say no about you being a dick,” you smirk at him. A hint of amusement flashes across his face for a moment before he stands to his full height again. He grunts as he grips his lower back, sore from the crash and squatting to pet Ghost. “Here, come inside.”

You don’t even think twice before walking inside with Ghost before hearing Michael attempting to walk into your house. Cursing, you quickly take off Ghost’s leash and block him off in your room while you jog to help the man stuck on your porch.

“Sorry,” you sheepishly smile, “I didn’t even think about the fact that you kind of have a bum leg. I just left you out here.” It’s obvious Michael is fighting the urge to scoff or roll his eyes at your words, but he manages to suppress it.

“My last name is Robinavitch,” he tells you with a grimace. Your face contorts in confusion before you absentmindedly open your mouth.

“That’s awesome? Are you trying to give it to me or something?” You blurt. Both of you share a look that can be deciphered as ‘what the fuck?’ “Me and my big mouth! That was a joke! A very bad and awkward joke, but still a joke nonetheless. Oh, look, the couch, please sit down so I can walk away.”

Your face is on fire as you pace to your bedroom to let out your whining dog. While opening the door, you can hear Michael in the living room groaning as he sits down. It takes a moment of silent reflection for you to get over what you just said before sauntering into the living room as if nothing happened.

However, you choke on air, seeing the older male sprawled out on your couch, head thrown back, legs spread apart, and groaning. You don’t make your presence known for a minute out of shock, but when you notice his cracked phone on the coffee table, you clear your throat.

“Does it work, or do you need to borrow mine?” Your question is nonchalant, as if you weren’t just drooling at him manspreading on your couch.

Michael’s brown eyes meet yours, and the look on his face answers your question. You bite the inside of your cheek and fish your phone out of your back pocket.

“I’m really sorry about all this. First the bike, then your bum leg, and now your phone. Please, don’t sue me.” He doesn’t say anything when he grabs your phone. “The password is 0407. Make as many calls as you need.”

Robby begins dialing numbers on your phone while you walk into the kitchen to grab the First Aid kit from the top of the fridge. When you poke your head out to see what’s going on in the living room, you see Ghost sitting across from Robby as if he is waiting for something. A smile pulls at your lips when the grumpy man pats the couch next to him, and Ghost instantly sits by his side. His tail swishes against the couch as Robby talks on the phone with his hand resting on top of your dog's head.

You turn and decide to grab a water for the man on your couch before walking back into the room. As you walk in, Robby simply raises his eyebrows to acknowledge your presence, but says thank you when you hand him the water. He wastes no time as he rests the phone against his ear and shoulder so he can twist the cap off.

There’s a moment of awkward silence as you listen to the person on the other end talk to him, and his only responses are the occasional hum. When they continue to chat about the motorcycle, you drag your feet to the other side of Ghost, plopping on the cushion. As you pet him, your fingers brush over Michael’s, which causes you to rip your hand away from his.

You rest your hands in your lap, fiddling with your fingers as your face burns in a frenzy. An agonizing silence engulfs the room, and it’s suffocating you. When you finally have enough, you go to grab the remote, but Robby finally mumbles the word, bye, into the phone.

“Here, you can have this back,” he hands the phone over the back of your dog. You reach to grab it and back, sure to grab the very edge of the phone, avoiding contact with him. “They’re coming to pick up my bike, but–ugh,” Robby rubs a hand down his face. Your eyes trail his movements, watching as he lets his hand settle against his neck longer than necessary. Then he releases a loud puff of breath. “They won’t be here for about another forty minutes or so.”

“Okay,” you simply said, then quirked a brow, “How are you getting home? Do you have someone who can pick you up?”

“Trying to get rid of me?” He muses. You pretend to be shocked, covering your chest with your hand.

“I didn’t know you were capable of joking.”

“I joke. I just don’t tend to joke with people after I crash my motorcycle,” he tilts his head to the side as he talks to you.

“Noted,” you simply say with a nod.

“I tried calling someone, but he’s not answering. He works night shifts, so I’ll have to try again in a bit. Maybe I can hitch a ride with the tow truck or something.” He scratches his beard while chewing on his bottom lip, deep in thought.

“Not to sound like a creep, but where do you live? If it’s near here, I wouldn’t mind driving you back. After everything that’s happened, I really wouldn’t mind. I limit the drive to an hour, though. I might kill your cranky ass before thirty minutes into the drive.” Robby doesn’t hold back the laugh that escapes him at your words that were spoken with the utmost honesty.

“Well, don’t hold back,” he chuckles, “I live in Pittsburgh. So I’m about thirty minutes away, we might be pushing it on time.” You smile while pulling the lid off the little red box filled with over-the-counter medicines and wound care.

“I think we’ll manage. Now, let’s see what we’re working with. I don’t have too much in my kit, but it’s enough for basic care. I’ve been learning a thing or two at CNA school, nothing too crazy. But, I completed my first aid training before this, so I’m capable of a little bit.”

When you glance up, you notice the wide smile stretching across Michael’s face. Your eyebrows furrow at how tickled he looks sitting there staring at you. After a moment passes between you two, him looking like he wants to laugh in your face, and someone just asked you to solve a physics problem, you finally throw your hands in the air.

“Why do you look so happy?” You laugh at how stupid your question is. “I only just met you, and you haven’t smiled more than twice. This is weird. Maybe you really did hurt your head. Once again, you need to wear a helmet. Oh my god! Will you stop smiling at me?” Your voice goes pitchy at the end.

“You really didn’t believe me earlier. I’m really a doctor,” he raises his eyebrows and gestures to himself.

“You’re being serious?” You question with raised eyebrows. Slowly, Michael nods, and you scoff, letting your hands fall onto your lap. “A doctor on a motorcycle with no helmet. You, out of all people, should see how foolish that is. But, who am I to judge someone’s dumb decisions?” You mumble the last part to yourself. It doesn’t matter because he obviously hears you and lets the comment roll off his shoulder.

“If you’re going to be a CNA, you should probably work on your bedside manner,” he comments in an indifferent tone. You sneer at him before a wheeze leaves you without warning.

“You should work on your bedside manner. God, I didn’t even think about that. Are you always this grumpy?” You question, while getting the rag damp with the water in front of you.

“Depends on the person.”

“Wow, I feel honored, Robinavitch.” You place a hand over your heart and flash him the biggest smile you can. “Now, let’s see what we’re working with. Off with the jacket. At least you are wearing the jacket and jeans.”

“First time meeting, and you’re already telling me to strip,” he tries to joke, but instantly groans as he tries to shrug off the jacket.

“Do you want some help?” You ask while moving to stand. He scoffs, rolling his eyes at your question.

“I can take off my own coat. Stop acting like I’m crippled,” Robby grumbles while attempting to shimmy the clothing off.

“Okay, let me know when you want me to jump in because this is painful to watch.” You watch as he huffs a breath and sends you an annoyed expression. “What? You know, you’re too stubborn. Do you always tell people, ‘no,’ when they try to help you? It’s not that big of a deal to have someone help you.”

“I didn’t realize you wanted to undress me that badly,” Robby says through gritted teeth. You resist the urge to roll your eyes even though you’re not going to deny that you aren’t interested in helping him.

“Oh, it’s all that’s been on my mind since I saw you.” Your tone is sarcastic, even though you’re not fully lying, but Michael doesn’t need to know that. “I mean, it’s not too bad.”

Both of you examine his arm, which is mainly bruised with a minor road rash. Your fingers skim his arms as you turn it around, causing him to hiss when you lift it too much. An apology falls from your lips in less than a second.

“So what are you going to do first?” He questions. You turn and look at him with a look that screams, ‘Really?’

“Is this a test?” You roll your eyes before leaning over him to grab your wet cloth.

“I’m the attending physician at PTMC. I’m used to asking the students questions.”

Your jaw nearly drops at his confession, but instead, you clear your throat. “You know, maybe you can doctor up your wounds. I don’t need an experienced attending making fun of me for messing up.”

“Oh, where did all that talk go?” Michael quirks a brow. You give him an unamused look before he laughs at your sudden attitude change. “I work at a teaching hospital. I’m not going to make fun of you. Picture, I’m one of your patients.”

“Perfect practice, but I’m not sure if I want to go be a CNA at a nursing home. I'm leaning toward a hospital since I’m not the greatest with elders,” your eyes squint as you explain yourself. Robby runs his tongue across his bottom lip, shaking his head while laughing at your statement.

“Remember how I said you need to work on your bedside manner?” He raises his eyebrows.

“I remember it vaguely, but I’m learning to ignore you. Anyways,” you huff with a smile. “First, I’m going to take this rag with clean, lukewarm water. Gently dab and clean the wound. It’d be better if you were rinsing this out in the shower or something, but you can do that if you want to. While I’m doing this, I’m going to make sure there’s nothing embedded in your skin, but oh look at that, there’s nothing in your skin. It’s a good thing we wore the layers we needed to.”

Robby rolls his brown eyes at you at the pointed look you throw his way. The way one of you guys is always rolling your eyes at the other has a slight smile tug at your lips. Honestly, you don’t remember the last time you sat and had a decent conversation with a man. Have you guys been bickering almost the entire time? Yes, but it’s been fun.

“Then, I’m going to apply ointment to your wound. You want to keep this moisturized so the bandage doesn’t stick to the wound. After I apply this, we’re going to wrap it with some clean bandages, but not too tightly. It might affect the way it heals. Don’t ask why, doc, because I can’t answer it at the moment,” you cut him off when he goes to talk.

Robby merely huffs a laugh and closes his mouth. You continue gently holding his arm while you apply the cream to the wounds. Every time he flinches, which isn’t too often, you quietly apologize and then continue rubbing the ointment in. He watches while you examine your work before wrapping the bandage around his arm.

“Good,” he cleared his throat after you finished wrapping it. When you reach to lift his pant leg, he waves you off. “I can do this one. You did well, but I got this one.”

You don’t argue as you hand over your mediocre medical supplies and call Ghost to walk into the kitchen with you to throw away your gloves and cloth used to clean his arm. Michael quietly groans as you assume he removed small pieces of rock from his leg. When you make your way back in, he wears a grimace on his face as he sets a pair of tweezers down. Little rocks sit on the cloth he took out, and you watch while he repeats what you did.

Although he’s sore and more than likely twisted his ankle, he’s in pretty good shape. You send him a gentle smile when he finishes his wound care, rolling his jeans back over the bandage. When you open your mouth to say something, you hear a loud noise from outside.

“That might be the tow truck,” Robby said while pushing himself to his feet. He’s hobbling to the door but is definitely moving better than earlier.

“Hey, why don’t I go out there? No offense, but you’re walking like you’re on a pogo stick.” Robby turns to look at you with his infamous unamused expression, and you simply shrug your shoulders in response. “I’m just trying to be nice.”

“If that’s nice, I’d hate to see you rude. But don’t worry. I’ll hobble over there just fine. They’re going to ask questions that I need to answer. But thanks for offering.”

“You’re sure you don’t want help?” You tilt your head down, raising your eyebrows as Robby’s hand grips the handle.

“I’m positive.”

“Okay,” you drag out the word while grabbing Ghost’s collar. “Good luck out there, soldier. I’ll send all the best vibes your way so your hobble isn’t too painful.”

Robby gives you a grim smile, the expression obviously fake, before he steps outside. You wait a couple of seconds before standing and creeping toward the window. Ghost sprints to the window overlooking the door, ears standing straight up and tail wagging side to side.

The way Michael tries to walk, as if he didn’t just get in a minor motorcycle accident, has you rolling your eyes. He is trying to act all cool and collected, but you notice how he tenses up a bit with each step. You remove yourself from the window when the tow truck driver meets Michael halfway.

While waiting for your new grumpy acquaintance, you grab the supplies he had sitting on the chaise of your couch. Ghost remains by the window, whining as he stares outside. You try to call for him, but the dog is glued to the scene outside. When you plop on the couch, you notice a bunch of notifications on your phone and try to respond to all of them before Robby gets back.

It catches you off guard when the door rips open, and Ghost goes flying across the living room. There’s no hesitation on your end as you sprint forward, trying to snatch your dog, but instead bashing your shin off the coffee table.

“Oh, motherfucker!” You howl. Both Michael and Ghost freeze next to each other as you clutch your leg, hopping around the living room.

“You okay?” The man is clearly trying to hold in a laugh, his eyes full of amusement, watching you curse and grumble every word in the book.

“If you laugh, I swear it to you, I’ll kick you in your good leg. You can army crawl back to Pittsburgh.” You hiss, pacing back and forth as you try to walk off the pain. Ghost runs up to you, which instantly causes you to hold up a hand. “Not now, buddy. Walk away. It’s not your fault, but it’s your fault.”

Robby bites back a smile when your gaze locks with his. After a second passes, you crack a bit of a smile, glancing down to see the nasty bruise already forming on your skin. “I guess we’ll both be limping to the car. Unless you were still thinking about getting a ride from the tow company?” You raise an eyebrow at him while waiting for an answer.

“And deny you the pleasure of driving me home?” He questions. His question earns a scoff from you while you grab your car key from the kitchen counter.

“Just say you want me to go back to your place,” you smirk at his shocked face. “Ghost, to the room.”

When the black dog bolts into the room and dutifully lies on the bed, you put the dog gate up. Before leaving, you tell him you’ll be back soon and to be good while you’re gone. This little interaction has Robby flashing you a downturned smile, obviously amused by you informing your dog of your whereabouts.

“Got something to say, old man?” You quip, limping past him as you open the door for both of you. Robby lets out a shocked laugh, turning to look you up and down.

“You’re grumpy when you hurt yourself. I thought I was the grouch.”

“I guess we have something in common. Now, let’s see who can limp the fastest to the door. Ten dollars on me.”

Both of you try to bite back laughs and smiles as you hobble together toward the vehicle. It’s the first time in a long time that you felt genuinely happy, which is odd given the circumstances, but you’ll take it.

You load into the car and start driving with the radio humming in the background. Robby tries to make himself comfortable in the seat, shifting and grunting as he does so.

“So, why were you out there anyway? Just going for a joyride or something?”

“I’m taking a break from work. Three months of me on the road and being away from the hospital,” he tells you. The way he says it sounds heavy, but you decide not to pry since you just met.

“Sorry for ruining the trip for you. Hopefully you can get the bike fixed and spend at least a bit of your vacation doing what you planned to.” Robby doesn’t meet your gaze when you glance at him; instead, he turns his head to look out the window.

“No, it’s fine. I’m kind of glad I can’t go on it now. In a way, I’m happy I get to stay.”

It’s the way his voice slightly cracks on the last sentence that has you realizing there’s definitely a deeper meaning to his words. A moment of heavy, suffocating silence envelops you two like a blanket.

“Never thought I’d say this, but I’m kind of happy you crashed that bike too.” Your honest words have Robby choking on a short laugh when he glances at you. It’s then that you realize his glassy eyes, but you choose not to say anything.

“Oh yeah?”

You glance at him for a moment before glancing back at the road with a smile on your face. “Yeah, is it weird to say that I’ve had fun today. Even though you were a pain in my,” you snap and point down to gesture to your bottom, “I kind of forgot what it’s like to sit and joke around with someone.”

The man doesn’t say anything; instead, he silently nods in understanding. You and Robby chat throughout the thirty-minute drive, sometimes silent with the radio filling in the silence, but it’s a good time. Joking and sharing bits and pieces about yourselves, nothing too personal, but just enough to keep the other one wanting to know more.

When you pull up to his house, you’re almost a bit bummed to end the conversation. So, you decide not to. Robby looks over when he hears your seatbelt unbuckle, and you hop out of the car.

“What are you doing?” He chuckles as you glance up to him.

“Now what kind of gentlewoman would I be if I didn’t walk your weeble-wobble ass home?” You smirk at him. Robby huffs a laugh, opening his door and carefully getting out of your vehicle.

He walks along your side, his limp looking better than before, but still there. When you reach the door, your jaw drops as you snap your head in his direction. “Oh, my god. Your stuff is at my house. You left your jacket and your phone.”

Robby smirks as you groan, turning to look at the road while you weigh your options. However, he disturbs your train of thought when he opens his mouth. “Well, looks like I’ll just have to come over again. Unless you want to bring them to my place?”

“Already trying to come back over. Wow, can’t get enough of me, can you?” You jokingly laugh, trying to brush off the way he stands there staring at you.

“It seems that way,” he challenges. Your heart pounds in your chest as you take a step back, face burning, and clear your throat.

“Well, I’m free tomorrow then.” Robby grabs the doorknob and gives you a once-over before opening the door.

“See you tomorrow night.”

When you reach your car, you spin on your heel. The brown-haired man is leaning against the door frame, watching as you get into your vehicle.

“Next time, no crashes. You don’t have to go through such dramatics to get my attention, Michael.” He seems to perk up when you say his name, but your words cause him to shake his head in disbelief.

“Get the hell out of here before I change my mind.”

“Oh, but you won’t. See you tomorrow night, doc.”

Each of you stares at the other, slight smiles pulling at your lips before you start your car. Robby waves you off as you drive away from his house, a full-on grin now stretching across your face. You’ll have to treat Ghost to a pup cup when you get home. It’s the least you can do for him after finding you a date.

_____

Everyone has their eyes on you as the gurney is lifted into the back of the ambulance. It’s hard not to notice their heavy gazes while you begin to check the vitals on the cold child. Your chest constricts when the pulse is slow, and flashes of the scene come flooding back to you.

— previously

The older sister had dialed 9-1-1 in hysterics, screaming and gasping for air as she informed the operators how her younger sister had gone outside without her noticing. By the time she found her, the sister was floating in their backyard pool. When you got there, the elder sister ran alongside you while she explained how she and her boyfriend were performing CPR.

Tears streamed down her face as she choked back sobs. Her little sister was on the concrete surrounding the pool, her body unmoving on the warm cement. The other EMTs wasted no time, ordering the older sister’s boyfriend to step aside as they began their work.

Connor’s eyes met yours when you froze at the sight. It looked like your first drowning victim from three months ago. The older sister clung to her boyfriend while sobbing, falling to her knees while crying for her sister to wake up.

Tears coated your eyes before you sprang into action. Everyone sounded muffled as you took over compressions, the feeling of shoving down on the child making you feel sick. Memories from months ago continue to flood back, a nauseating feeling pooling in the pit of your stomach. You feel as though you could puke when you hear and feel the sickening snapping of ribs.

“I-uh,” you clear your throat, a lump causing you to choke on your words a bit, “I just broke some ribs.”

“You broke my sister’s ribs?” The sister cried. She stepped closer to the scene, and you couldn’t bear to glance at the teenager.

“That means she’s doing it right,” Connor, the other EMT, informed the older sister with a gentle tone.

As if on cue, the little girl coughed up water. The older girl gasped for air as if she’d been robbed of it this entire time. You and Connor waste no time, rolling her onto her left side, so she doesn’t choke on the water.

“Let’s load her up and get her to PTMC,” you heard Evans call out.

“I’ll be up there in a minute, Anna,” the sister cried while following you all to the ambulance. “I need to get David from his room, and I’ll drive down there to be with you. Just wait for me. Hold on,” she squeezed her hand before your crew lifted the gurney.

— current time

After replaying the scene in your head, you shake your head as Connor takes over the situation. You didn’t realize you stopped moving until Evans pulled you to the side with a firm grip.

“Stand over here. We got this.”

“I can help,” you insist. The words came out shaky, struggling with getting your three-word sentence out. Neither of your coworkers acknowledges your words as they communicate with each other about what is happening with the young girl.

“Pulse is slow but steady. Seems like she’s-”

The words are lost on you as you fall back into your seat. Breathing becomes hard as memories continue flashing in and out from before. Tears threaten to slip and fall down your cheeks; however, you don’t allow them to. Your hands cover both sides of your forehead before one drifts down to your chest.

“Hey, are you good over there?” Connor asks. While you sharply inhale, you simply nod your head with no verbal response. “We got this under control. We did good. She’s going to be just fine after they admit her and work their magic.”

“Yeah, isn’t Robby working today too?” Candace, the new EMT, chirps. “You couldn’t ask for a better doctor to operate on her than your husband.”

“Hey, why don’t we focus on this right now?” Connor cuts her off.

You toss your head back as you picture Robby seeing you with another drowning victim. He was there with your first one, and it wasn’t a good time in your life at all. Honestly, you weren’t sure you'd be back on the field after that day; however, the thought of helping people drove you back to your job.

As the ambulance stops, everyone in the truck sits up. Quickly, you take in a huge breath and blink the emotions away. Connor glances at you with a gentle smile while the doors are ripped open. Outside the vehicle, Dr. King and Dr. Langdon both rush over without hesitation.

“What do we have?” Langdon asks your coworkers.

“Six-year-old, Anna. Was found in the pool and was unresponsive. After CPR, she–” Connor took over the talking this time, and you realize you’ll have to thank him later.

He’s around your age and has experienced his fair share of rough experiences. When you were suffering from your first drowning victim, he was nothing but understanding. Never once did he push you to do anything, but he would come down to talk about what happened. Connor would tell you about how they saved someone that day, trying to remind you all of the positives in your career. At first Robby would glare at him, but he realized what Connor was trying to do. After a couple visits, Robby welcomed him into your home in hopes your coworker could help you find your footing again.

When you jump from the back to help push the gurney in, Langdon’s eyes go wide for a moment, which you decide to ignore. He’s one of the people who knew of your past trauma with this kind of case.

“Are you okay?” He blurts out. You don’t dare glance in his direction as you bite the inside of his cheek.

“Let’s just focus on making her okay,” you shortly say while pushing past the doors.

When you make it near the front desk, Dana perks up and rushes to the side. While she’s filled in on the situation, her eyes catch yours and that’s when everything comes back.

“Hey, we got it,” Langdon looks at you wearily, “She’s in good hands. Just-uh-trust us, okay?” He ducks to your eye level with raised eyebrows. When you nod at his words, his hand lightly clamps your shoulder before him and a few others rush Anna to a trauma room.

When you turn, Dana stares at you with a sad look and takes a step forward. Your hands shoots up, telling her to stop and leave you alone. Her lips form a tight line you can barely see as tears line your vision.

Quickly, you excuse yourself from your coworkers before rushing off. You don’t know where you’re going but anywhere, anywhere from that room and little girl. Breathing gets harder and harder as your heart pounds against your chest, rattling your body with every step you take. While following the curve of the wall, you notice a room with the lights off and quickly step inside.

Not even a second passes before you fall to your knees, the heels of your hands pressing into eyes as you wept. Memories of the first child coming rushing back, splashing, gripping onto anything they could get their hands on. The scratches they left on your face, on your hands, on your arms and legs. An audible gasp sounds through the room as you struggle to breathe, your hand gripping the front of your shirt.

Sobs shake your body while rocking back and forth from the sheer force of emotion leaving you. As you struggle to breathe, gulping air that doesn’t feel like it goes to your lungs, you barely hear a door click shut. The muffled sound of someone shuffling to you is heard alongside with your gasp when a hand touches your shoulder.

“Get off me,” you cry out. The feeling of hands latching to you, clinging to your arms, pulling you into water while they try to save themselves rushing back to you. You’re bundled up into the crook of the wall and bed as tears stream down your face, body shaking while pushing the person away.

“It’s me,” a deep voice cracks. “Hey, hey, it’s me.”

Although your arms feel weightless, you continue to push their outstretched hands away. Both of you continue like this, fighting each others hands away with sorrow weighing the room down. While they continue talking to you, it takes a minute before you register who the voice is coming from.

When the realization hits you, your arms fall lifelessly to the cold, tiled floor. Silent sobs falls from your lips as you allow yourself to finally fall forward. Arms quickly catch you, pressing your limp form into their chest as they sit in front of you silently. He knows you don’t need to hear the pretty words everyone likes to tell you. It’s okay. Everything will be okay.

He knows it’s not always going to be okay. Days are often heavy when it comes to the two of you, and he doesn’t try to stuff the positives down your throat. Although it sounds cruel, you appreciate the realistic approach of the way you two handle moments like these.

“I’m here,” Robby soothes you, running his fingers through your hair. His other arm grips you tightly, anchoring you to him. “I came as soon as I heard. We don’t have to talk about it but I’m here.”

You nod into his chest, his jacket wet with your tears. After a couple minutes of him rocking both of you back and forth, you finally peel yourself from him. Finally, you’re able to breathe, your chest still heavy but lighter than it was. Robby simply observes you, his own eyes glassy while he watches you.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. Although you’re aware there’s nothing to really apologize for, you feel as though you’re supposed to. I mean, he should be with patients and checking on them, meanwhile, he’s trapped in here with you because you’re struggling with the past.

“Don’t be. Don’t ever apologize for this.” Robby tries to catch your gaze but you focus on the floor, feeling guilty and pathetic for having him take care of you again. “Hey,” he uses his finger to lift your chin up so you’ll look at him, “do not apologize to me for this.”

“You have enough to deal with and I’m over here crying about something that happened months ago. I feel-” you choke on your words. Your husband simply sits in front of you with a look that’s laced with too much emotion it’s hard to look. “I feel so pathetic. I feel like I’m trapped. Like I’m trapped in that day where she-oh my god-I’m sorry.” You gasp as another sobs leaves your lips.

The back of your hand presses to your mouth to mute the agonizing sound of your cries. At that moment, you struggle looking at Robby so you let your head fall to your knees, turning it to the side to look at the wall.

“I’m trapped in that day. The day where I failed and caused her to die. She was seven years old and I let her die,” you shake your head, tears slipping from the movement. Robby inhales a shaky breath at your words. “I feel so pathetic for still crying about it. I should be able to help others without picturing her but I can’t.”

“You didn’t let anyone die. You did everything you could and you know that,” he tells you while trying to catch your attention. However, you refused to look at him in this moment because you feel so guilty. “You feel pathetic? I still see the little girl who drowned too. Everytime I see Jake, I see Leah. I still see Louie bleeding out on the bed. I still-shit,” he gasps.

This catches your attention. When you look at your husband, he sends you a small smile, tilting his head as his eyes well up with tears. He shrugs his shoulders while his hands fly up for a second.

“That’s not your fault,” your words mean nothing and you know that.

Robby sends a dumb expression your way. “It’s not your fault she died either. I know it’s hard, trust me, I get it. Everyone here understands what you’re going through. You will get through this. Does it mean you’ll forget what happened? No, hell no. I’ll never forget telling Jake I couldn’t save his girlfriend. You’ll never forget that little girl. But, you’ll learn to live with it. You’ll learn to mourn it and acknowledge it but still continue your job.”

A moment of silence passes between you two before you reach out to him, catching his hand in your own. Robby glances down and runs a finger over your knuckles in a soothing motion. Both of you have tears lingering in your eyes from the conversation the two of you try to avoid.

“I’m sorry, Robby, but we need you. The wreck patient’s vitals are crashing out of nowhere and we need you in there,” Dana’s head pops into the room.

You and Robby both perk up, the two of wiping your tears on your sleeves before clearing your throats. “Be right there,” Robby hoarsley says. The woman’s eyes linger on yours before she gives you a sad smile.

“The little girl you brought in, Anna,” she starts. You feel a lump forming in the back of your throat as you await the next words with a heavy heart. “She’s okay, kid. The family is almost here, but she’s going to be just fine. You and the others saved that little girl’s life.”

You nod at her words, eyes darting to the side as you suck in a sharp breath, tears forming once again. “Thank you, Dana.” The words come out shaky while you thank her. She simply nods back at you before excusing herself from the room.

“Well, there you go,” Robby turns to you once the door shuts. He drops his hands onto your shoulders and crouches until he’s eye level with you. “See? She’s going to be fine. You saved that little girl’s life. It’s hard letting go of what went wrong, but remember all the good you’re doing. Okay?” He raises his eyebrows, his hands now cupping your fac.

“Okay,” you whisper. Robby’s lips form a thin line before you pulls you back into his chest, squeezing you against him. “Also, your pep talk earlier?”

“Yeah?” He questions with his chin on top of your head.

“Was shit. You’re not very good at them.”

Both of you start laughing, his chest shaking you as he chuckles at your words. He pulls away from you with a wide smile stretching on his face. Humor is the best coping mechanism for you two. It’s not the healthiest, but it helps you both process it in your own ways.

“Oh really?” His voice goes high toward the end. You laugh, sniffling as you wipe the tears from your cheeks. “I’d say I’m wounded, but it’s not the first time I’ve been told that.”

“Come on, you have a patient to get back to.” You walk toward the glass door and pull it open, the light assaulting your puffy eyes. “And I have people waiting for me to help them too.”

______

It’s been ages since you found yourself in an enjoyable workplace. After uprooting your old life and starting anew in Pittsburgh, you decided to apply for a barista gig. You had recently worked at a popular small-town shop that was always packed, since most people there preferred to support small businesses over major corporations.

Honestly, the place was fun until all there was drama happening left and right. When you were dragged into it, that’s when you knew it was time for something new. Moving was always something you wanted to do, but you lacked the funds. It took another part-time job on top of being a barista to make the money you needed to move away.

Pittsburgh wasn’t your first choice, but it was new, and when you compared the job opportunities, it offered better options than other places. Another perk was the apartment you found. It was fairly priced, not too far from your new job, and you could already envision how you would decorate. Moving didn’t take much time, and the job hunt was short.

Thankfully, the honeymoon cafe agreed to a Zoom interview after hearing your story. The manager loved your attitude instantly and welcomed you to the shop at the end of the call. After securing the job and your apartment, you said your goodbyes and made the move.

Kiera, the manager at honeymoon cafe, is probably your favorite person in the coffee shop. One of the reasons you wanted to work here is that it’s not only a coffee shop but also a bookstore. Your new friend had told you it was actually her idea to carry romance books, because with a business name like honeymoon cafe, it’d be a shame not to have love stories available.

So far, the morning has been pretty good. Although you spilled an iced latte down the front of your cute outfit, you are catching on fast. Most people have been understanding with you; they are sure to relay their usual drinks to you instead of getting frustrated, which has been a massive help. At the old shop where you were previously employed, the regulars were always spiteful when they had to inform new hires about their drinks.

When rush hour hits, you are asked to take orders and hand out drinks. Talking with customers is easy here; most of the people are friendly, or they cut straight to the point. While you refill the basket with straws, two people step forward to place their order. One is a girl with short dark hair, and the other is a blonde man.

“Hey, guys. What can I get going for you two?” You smile at them while walking back to the register. Both of them wore matching outfits: black scrubs and tired expressions. Honestly, if anyone you've seen so far this morning needed a coffee, it’s these two.

“Uh,” the blonde one starts, “just the usual, please.” It’s the way his eyes shoot up to you for a second, then deflect straight to the floor that makes you bite back a bigger smile. Before you can say anything, the girl next to him elbows his side with an exaggerated groan.

“She’s new. She doesn’t know your usual, genius.” She grumbles while scrolling on her phone. A little smirk tugs at her lips as she starts typing something in silence.

“Unfortunately, I don’t know it. It’s my first day here, but I promise to learn it as fast as I can,” you shoot him a small smile. His head nods quickly in a single motion as he darts his attention to the female next to him.

“Oh my god, go stand over there, I’ll order it,” she barks at him, stuffing her phone in her pocket. He turns away from you before he thanks her under his breath. “Sorry, he’s weirder than he looks,” her cheeks puff out before leaning on the counter.

“No need to apologize, I’ve dealt with far worse and weirder,” you laugh slightly before clearing your throat, “So about that order?”

“Two twenty-four ounce–”

“I got it, Trinity! They’re almost done,” Kiera calls out while pouring a frozen drink. One of your coworkers steps in front of you to quickly type the order in while chatting with the dark-haired girl.

“You’re the best, Kiera!” Trinity sends your coworker a small smile before walking toward person she came in with. She slightly kicks the guy’s foot when she goes to sit down in the lounge chair next to them.

The line is clear, so when a drink slides onto the bar, you waste no time snatching it. After working as a barista for as long as you have, you have experienced almost everything. Including being yelled at by someone who left with a frappe instead of a black coffee. Never in your life did you expect someone to confuse a hot drink with a frozen drink, but shockingly, it does happen. Instead of the customer realizing they personally made a mistake, they shouted at the workers instead. Therefore, you prefer to make sure the drink goes with the right person.

Yelling out orders isn’t exactly your favorite part of the job, but you’d rather do this than have someone yell at you. The cafe is buzzing with energy, and people are scattered throughout the building while chatting. As you go to call out the order, it’s almost like the customers are trying to talk over one another. Okay, you’ll just have to be louder.

“Huckleberry!” You call out. After the word leaves your mouth, you instantly recoil back. “Wait, what the fuck?” The laugh that escapes your lips causes your cheeks to puff out before you catch yourself. Keep it together, be professional. It’s hard to go back to an indifferent face when the coffee shop suddenly goes silent.

The first thing to break the newfound silence is a loud snort from the dark-haired girl named Trinity. You glance up at the ceiling, attempting to stifle your laughter, which thankfully works. The blonde, Huckleberry, nearly trips over Trinity’s foot as he hurriedly makes his way toward you. It doesn’t go unnoticed when he turns toward her with a look of ‘what the fuck’ after stumbling for a second.

“I-uh-sorry,” he stammers as he nears you. The awkward tension of the room slowly starts to dissipate when he nears where you stand. Mercifully, you meet him halfway before extending his drink and straw toward him.

“Here’s that drink for you.” A polite smile plays on your lips while handing over the frozen drink. Even though you’re not entirely sure what it is, the cup is covered in chocolate and caramel drizzle.

“My name isn’t actually Huckleberry,” he says as you pass the drink over. A genuine laugh escapes you while the smile on your face grows even wider.

“This may come as a shock, but I didn’t think it was.” His shoulders sag a bit when you say this before his lips pull upward.

“My name is actually–”

“Come on, Huckleberry. I’m not getting my ass chewed for being late.” Trinity grabs him by the shoulder. “Thanks for the drink, newbie.”

There wasn’t time to say anything else before they were out the door. After standing there with an amused expression, you turn on your heel to join your coworkers again. They are all smiles and snickering behind the espresso machine. When you near them, and they notice you, it only makes them laugh even harder. Suddenly, old feelings from your past job start resurfacing as they laugh together.

Did you do something wrong? Have they been making fun of you the whole time? Have they been pretending to be your friend this entire time? How long have they been doing this? How long have they been laughing at–

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t think about the fact you didn’t know about the nickname!” Kiera howls in laughter. After they wipe the tears from their eyes, you feel the anxiety in your chest begin to loosen.

“What?” you question in a choked voice. Confusion is all you can feel while staring at the group of people who attempt to catch their breath.

“Trinity’s nickname for him is Huckleberry, and that’s what she has us write on the cup. I honestly don’t know where the nickname came from because I don’t ask. We had many customers, so I didn’t even think about it. When you shouted Huckleberry, I could barely stand straight because I was laughing so hard,” Kiera breathlessly tells you.

“Totally our fault,” Ryan tosses his hands up, “But it was so nice to laugh after dealing with that rush. I mean, I was two seconds from falling to the floor laughing, seeing that look on your face. I could practically tell you were like, what the fuck is a huckleberry, oh my gosh.” A wheeze comes from him before he grips Kiera’s shoulder. The two of them seem to lose all feeling in their knees as they buckle to the floor.

“Yeah, we should’ve definitely told you, but it’s okay. He’s a good guy, and even if he was embarrassed, that’s nothing compared to what he goes through with Trinity. God, I love that girl, but she gives him a hard time. It’s all fun and games, though–probably not for him–but trust me when I say she isn’t going to let anyone mess with him. She may give him a hard time, but no one else is allowed to do it,” Lainey smiles as she pats your back.

“Good to know,” you gently laugh, “I thought you guys were laughing at me.”

Everyone kind of sobers up at your words, and you send them an awkward smile. Instantly, they all begin to reassure you about how they would never do something like that.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to ruin the mood!” You frantically wave your hands, “I’m just so thankful you were laughing at that whole thing!”

“Girl, we’re not your old coworkers. If we didn’t like you, you wouldn’t be here. Trust me, we want you here. We’ll never laugh or make fun of you. Will we give you a hard time sometimes? Yeah, we’ll do that and more. But it’ll never be like what you experienced,” Kiera pulls you into a hug while the rest of your new coworkers send you a smile.

“Yeah, think of Trinity and calling her buddy, Huckleberry. We may give you a hard time, but we've got your back,” Lainey glances over her shoulder while making a drink for herself.

A small smile pulls at your lips as your new coworkers pat your back while walking past you to take orders and make drinks. There’s a short moment that passes as you close your eyes, feeling a wave of too many emotions washing over you. It’s honestly overwhelming, and your chest tightens for a second as you breathe through the feeling.

Even though everything has been going smoothly, you still question yourself. Is this what you should be doing? Is this the right move? Will this be a repeat of what happened before? However, those doubts begin to wash away as the day goes on. This was definitely the right choice.

_________________

After you worked a couple of closing shifts, everything started to be easier to understand, and you learned how to make drinks you didn’t make at the place you previously worked. With all the training you received during the afternoon shifts, you walked in this morning with a confident attitude.

Everything has been flowing so easily since you’re used to the system your coworkers have made. Another perk of working the afternoon shift was chatting with the regulars, which means you know some of their orders. It’s been nice not having to shout every order like you were doing on your first day. Plus, it’s nice seeing the happy expressions when you remember who they are.

While walking a mug of coffee to someone seated in the corner, you catch sight of a familiar duo. When the hot beverage is safely set on the table, you politely excuse yourself before walking away. As you journey back to your workstation, the blonde-haired guy catches your eye for a brief second.

“Sorry, guys, I had to run a drink over to someone. What can I get going for the two of you? I unfortunately don’t know what you two ordered last. I swear it to you, I will have it memorized for next time, though.” You promise them with a genuine smile.

“It’s just two twenty-four ounce hazlenut, caramel, and chocolate frappes,” Trinity tells you. Before you say anything, the blonde cuts you off.

“With whipped topping, please,” he adds in.

“Of course, we will have those right out for you. That’s going to be $14.40.”

It’s much easier to navigate the register after working the last few shifts. The place you worked at was much simpler, whereas this one, you have to add all the flavors in, the exact subsitution, and simply include everything special about the drink.

The two of them walk away to the same spot they did the last time they were here. When Kiera finished the drinks, you offered to take them for her so she could clean up her station. She gives you an appreciative look and mumbles a thank you under her breath. Before the duo came in, Kiera had accidentally spilled one of the fraps she had made when she saw them walking toward the building.

When you neared them, you handed Trinity hers as she remained seated. Even as she talks on the phone, she still makes an effort to thank you for the coffee. Then, you turn to find the blonde standing at your side, awaiting his frozen drink.

“And here’s that for you,” you say, handing the cup to him with a smile. He goes to turn around, but decides against it as he faces you once again.

“It’s Dennis. My name is Dennis Whitaker.” You held your hand out in an attempt to be polite, which caused you to mentally cringe at yourself.

“Well, it’s nice to know your name isn’t Huckleberry. I’m (Y/N), nice to formally meet you. So you work at the hospital?” You put your hands behind your back as you fiddle with your fingers. Dennis smiles as he glances down at his badge, which has his work information on it.

“Yeah, I actually just got this the other day. I’m officially a doctor and not a student doctor,” he shares while talking with his hands.

“Well, that’s awesome! Congratulations, I bet that was exciting for you. I hope you were thrown a big celebration for something like that,” you grin at him, “I bet your family is so proud of you.”

“No big family celebration, unfortunately. I’m actually from Nebraska, so–”

“Nebraska?!” You cut him off. “Sorry, that was rude. I’m just shocked since that’s quite the distance. But hey, good for you! I actually just moved too. I’m not doing anything as amazing as saving lives, but I’m just happy to move from my hometown.”

“Oh, don’t say that. I’m sure people are excited to come in and see you guys. I mean, you may not be doctors, but you guys are kind of lifesavers. Without this,” he gestures to his melting drink, “I would be dead–not literally–but I would feel like it. It keeps me awake, which helps me help the patients that come in. Therefore, in a way, you’re saving people.”

As he rambles on, you can’t help but smile at his words. Without thinking about it, you grab his arm and gently squeeze it. “Thank you, Dennis. That was probably the nicest thing someone has said to me about my job. Seriously, thank you.” He goes to say something again, but you cut him off, “I hate to cut this conversation short, but your friend left. I’m not sure if that means you're late, but I just wanted to let you know.”

He turns his wrist over to check his watch, then grimaces at the accessory. “Oh yeah, I’m late. Uh, yeah, I gotta go like now, but thanks for my drink!” Dennis calls out over his shoulder before literally running out the door.

A laugh escapes you as he cuts across the street in a hurry. “Earth to (Y/N), we need you over here!” Lainey frantically whisper-yells at you. As you spin on your heel, you realize someone came in and placed a massive order.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize!” You apologize while snatching an apron from the hook on the wall. As you tied the strings behind your back, you couldn’t help but notice a smirk on your coworkers' faces. “What?”

Instead of saying anything while you start putting syrups and sauces into cups, they wiggle their eyebrows at each other. When a minute of silence and exchange looks past, you groan and spin on your heel.

“Is someone going to tell me why we’re smiling and giggling, or do I have to let my anxiety answer for me? Because trust me, it will,” you look at them with a jokingly pointed look. Even though you’re joking, it’s not a lie; it will definitely eat at you for a bit if no one tells you.

“Just seemed like you and Dr. Whitaker were hitting it off over there,” Ryan doesn’t even try to hide his smile. When you scoff at his words, Kiera turns and grabs his arm dramatically.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever told me,” she flutters her eyelashes like an animated character. As you watch them re-enact your previous encounter with the young doctor, you throw a rag at them while telling them to shut up. “Ew, that rag was soaked!” Kiera cringes as the dark blue towel splats onto the tiled floor.

“Good,” you huff out, “maybe if you were working instead of making fun of me, the rag wouldn’t have hit you.”

Everyone bites back their smiles while muttering their fake apologies. No one felt bad for a second; they were enjoying this situation far too much. A long-suffering silence rests on the group, with the only sounds being the hum of indie music and the grinder every time someone needed an espresso shot. The lack of conversation causes you to replay the scene in your head, meaning overthinking the situation.

You can’t believe that you were feeling him up–not that you were feeling him up-but still, you don’t do stuff like that. Then, the handshake causes a grimace to pull on your face. Ugh, why did you shake his hand? Seriously, when was the last time someone shook your hand when you met them? What were you trying to do? You were shaking his hand like you were hiring him for a job or something.

After a moment of suffering in silence, you spin on your heel to see everyone already looking at you with knowing grins. The large order was now finished, and you wait until the customer walks out the door before running a hand down your face.

“How bad was it?” You groan with your face in your hands. Kiera coos as she steps over to you like a wounded dog. “I haven’t talked to a guy in forever, and I shook his hand like I was trying to be a potential business partner. He probably thinks I’m such a weirdo,” the words fall from your mouth.

The rest of the staff waste no time walking over to you while you outwardly panic. Ryan crouches down to your height and chuckles at your flushed face. “It’s okay, we’re just joking. It really wasn’t that awkward. I think it was sweeter than awkward. Plus, he’s a good guy. He probably just liked that someone was willing to listen to him.”

“Say you swear right now,” you stare at him. “I really felt like such an idiot, guys.”

Your coworkers awe and rest their hands over their chests as if they were stabbed in the heart by your words. It’s hard not to roll your eyes at their antics, but it’s refreshing to have a group of people who genuinely care about you.

“Oh, stop. You’re not an idiot, you just need a little help. But, I think the awkward charm is cute! I don’t mean that in a demeaning way either. It’s refreshing seeing something that’s not showing off and trying to act like someone you’re not. I’m sure he appreciates that more than you trying to act like these other people who flaunt themselves around. I feel like this is coming off in a rude why but I promise I’m not. It’s seriously so sweet,” Kiera squeezes your shoulder with a little pout.

“Gosh, I just wanted to know if that was awkward. I wasn’t trying to be charming, I just wanted to have a conversation. It’s not like I’m trying to date the guy. I mean, he probably has a girlfriend or boyfriend. Either way, I was just talking,” you explain. Everyone shares looks that all look different but convey the same message: sure.

“Wait,” Ryan tosses his head back in laughter, “you don’t like this guy, but you’re panicking this much about it?” He questions you.

“Yep,” you tell him, popping the ‘p’ dramatically.

“Lainey, have you ever panicked this much over a guy you didn’t like?” He quirks a brow at your blonde coworker. She turns around with a huge smile on her face.

“Nope,” she copies you, popping the ‘p’ as you did. As she takes a sip from her drink, she waggles her eyebrows at you jokingly.

“So you don’t think he’s cute?” Kiera sends you a leveled look. Her dark eyes narrowed at you as she waited for your pending answer. Your face contorts as you scoff again.

“I didn’t say he wasn’t cute.”

“You think he’s cute!?” Lainey squeals and jumps with your hand in hers. You quickly snatch your hand back and grumble curses under your breath.

“You guys are ridiculous. He’s cute, okay? Oh my gosh, I think he’s cute–big deal. I’m taking this customer's order, and when I turn around, you guys better be done talking about this situation. Actually, erase it from your brain. Scrub it out. I don’t care, but no more. I will switch to afternoon shifts if I get interrogated about him anymore,” you walk away, clearly flustered.

“If I didn’t like someone, I definitely would also storm away after saying all that,” Ryan whispered under his breath. Your head snaps back like something straight from a horror movie as your eyes lock on his brown ones.

“Ryan, if I hear one more thing about the doctor, I will put your hand in a blender, so help me god.”

_________________

Never in your life have you felt the weight of people looking at you. However, today you felt as though a hundred pounds had been shackled to your body as your friends watched you. Next in line was the infamous Dennis Whitaker, the blonde man your coworkers can’t keep out of a single conversation.

Your face burns with all the gazes on you. The feeling makes you so anxious that you begin to rock back and forth on your heels when he steps forward. However, something is missing. You point at the open space next to him with a questioning look on your face.

“Where’s your partner in crime? Did you guys break up?” You ask before thinking twice. Dennis’s eyes go wide at your question, while his hands wave frantically between you two.

“Oh, we’re not a couple. She actually–well, I don’t know if I should say that–but trust me, I’m not her type. She doesn’t like guys,” he tells you. If you weren’t red-faced before, you definitely were now. “Trinity actually isn’t going to work; she’s not feeling good at all. It’s bad.”

“I’m sorry, that was inappropriate. I was just joking. Like partners in crime? Breaking up? Like if the Batman and Robin–never mind, forget it. I’m rambling, I’m–”

“No, no, I get it! Sorry, I didn’t want you to think we were a couple. I was the one who made it weird,” Dennis clears his throat as red dances across his cheeks.

“Don’t apologize! You’re totally fine! Let’s just go back in time,” you make a squeaky sound as you pretend to turn a dial to ‘go back in time,’ “Good morning, do you want the usual?”

The blonde in front of you bites back a smile, “The usual sounds great, thank you.”

“Alright, your total is on the screen and ready whenever you are,” you gesture toward the card reader. “You know, we have this really good tea that works really well for sick people. Honestly, I’ve had quite a few customers swear by it. I’ve only been here for a short amount of time, so that should speak volumes. If you get off before the cafe closes, I’m sure Trinity would love it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Unfortuantely you guys are closed before I get off, but if she’s still sick when I have a day off, I’ll have to come by.”

“On your next day off, you should ask this lovely lady for a cup of coffee when she’s not working. She’s relatively new to the area and could use a guide,” Ryan walks up with his drink.

Nothing is nonchalant about the way your jaw falls open. While you look like a fish gasping for air, Dennis sounds like he chokes on air. Ryan simply smiles between the two of you, smug about the situation.

“Uh,” your voice is shaky, “I am so sorry. You can ignore him, I–”

“No, I could show you around sometime if you want to, that is. Um, yeah. That’s not a problem at all! I know what it’s like to move and not know anyone or have anyone to hang out with,” he tells you, then grimaces. “That made me sound like a loner, but I guess I kind of was until Trinity found me.” Dennis scratches the back of his neck while lightly laughing.

Ryan kicks your ankle when you don’t say anything. I mean, how could you have something to say? He just offered to hang out with you one-on-one so he could show you around. When you snap back to reality, Dennis stares at you while waiting for you to respond to him.

“Honestly, I would really appreciate that. The only things I’ve seen so far are my apartment, the honeymoon cafe, and the grocery store. So yeah, if you don’t mind and actually want to, I’d definitely take you up on your offer.”

“Awesome,” Ryan smacks both of your shoulders, “Sounds like a date.”

Before you can say anything, Dennis glances over and looks like he might die. “Oh my gosh, I’m late again. I’m so sorry, but I have to go. I’ll be back tomorrow, and we can talk more about places to see.”

“Don’t forget your drink,” Ryan calls out to the man running out the door. Dennis curses before rushing for his drink. He mumbles a quick thank you before making his way outside once again.

“That’s it, blender time, now.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Ryan laughs like a manic as you snatch the front of his apron, “I think the correct words are: thank you. Maybe you should be thanking your wingman and not trying to blend his hands.”

“You just planned a date after I told you not to bring the situation up again. Now, I’m going to be in an early grave from a massive panic attack!” You exclaim in the thankfully empty coffee shop.

“Hey, if you’re dying, just think: Dr. Whitaker can take care of you.” Ryan wiggles his dark eyebrows at you. A burning feeling takes over your face once again, which causes him to point at you. “Look at you, blushing, thinking about him taking care of you.”

“Run.”

When there wasn’t a customer in the building, your shift consisted of you chasing Ryan and Ryan running from you. Kiera and Lainey simply cheered and recorded the whole thing with massive grins on their face. All you could think about was how on earth would you would show your face the next day.

___________

Since you started working at the honeymoon cafe, you haven’t been too overwhelmed. Today is a different story, though. Not only are all the seats taken in the building, but the line is to the glass doors. Honestly, your anxiety is starting to act up due to the unusual amount of customers you have, but you try to do your best to breathe through it.

Kiera must notice you are getting overwhelmed, though, because she walks up and offers to swap stations. Instantly, you accept and replace her at the espresso machine. Pulling shots and steaming milk is peaceful compared to the chaos of the register right now. You make a mental note to thank her later for letting you take a break from that spot.

“Hey, I need some oat milk steamed. Can you please start that?” Lainey calls out from the syrups.

“Got it,” you tell her as you begin pouring the milk into a pitcher. As you hold the pitcher, you constantly check the temperature to make sure you don’t make it too hot. Lainey thanks you as she sets the drink down beside the espresso machine, then rushes back to start the other cups.

When the thermometer reads the correct temperature, you turn the steamer off and pour the milk into the cup. Ryan took a shot you had ready and finished the drink for you. As the cup is whisked away, you grab the rag to wipe off the steam wand. Lainey is by your side again, filling a hot to-go cup with hot water from the espresso machine. She’s making an americano for someone.

While she does this, you reach for the steam wand but forget to grab the rubber part at the top of it. Lainey goes to warn you, but it’s too late as you hold the hot metal with your bare fingers. Instinctively, you rip your hand away, but accidentally knock over the cup she was filling up. The girl next to you gasps as the scorching water from the cup drenches your hand and the running hot water pours onto your skin.

A yelp leaves your mouth as you cradle your hand to your chest. Your coworkers quickly turn to rush over when they see how red your hand is. All of them grimace as the skin on your hand bubbles.

“Um, what do I do?” You question with tears in your eyes. As the four of you huddled together, customers grew frustrated at the lack of work, so Lainey shooed Kiera and Ryan off.

“You two go, I’ll run some cold water over her hand. Then we’ll bust out the first aid kit,” Lainey lets out a shaky breath, staring at your hand. Before your coworkers rush back to their stations, they make sure you’re okay. After reassuring them it’ll be okay a couple of times, they begin working on the orders again. “Okay, this is going to hurt, but I’m pretty sure this is what you need to do.”

“Pretty sure?” You ask through gritted teeth. Lainey sends you an apologetic smile before turning on the handwashing sink. As you’re about to dunk your hand into the freezing water, the blonde girl jerks your hand away.

“Dr. Whitaker! Just the guy we need!” She cries out. Your eyes widen as you turn to find him standing at the counter. It doesn’t take more than a couple of seconds for him to see you clutching your hand to your chest. “She has some nasty burns on her hand from the espresso machine. The cup of hot water was poured on her, then the water from the spicket got on her too.”

“That’s not good,” he simply says before Ryan waves him behind the counter.

Your face flushes as he paces toward you in his scrubs, wearing a serious expression. Once he nears you, Lainey gives you a little smile and walks away. “May I?” Dennis asks with his hands outstretched. Reluctantly, you nod and hold out your throbbing hand. “Ouch, you okay?” He questions as he examines the burning skin.

“I feel like I just stuck my hand in a pot of boiling water for ten minutes. I’d say I’m better than okay,” you dryly tell him. Dennis glances up at you and huffs out a laugh.

“Well, humor is a good sign. Unfortunately, I think you need to get this checked out and probably taken care of. If you want to, I work across the street and would be more than willing to help you out.”

“I mean, you could return the favor, I guess. I do make your coffee every day. It’s about time I get something in return,” you attempt to joke, but realize what you said.

“Whoa, burns make you frisky. Where was this when we were planning your guys’ date yesterday?” Ryan asks you. Dennis's hand twitches a little as he examines your hand a bit.

“I’m about to smack you with my hand, burned or not.”

Dennis laughs at your words before shaking his head, “There’ll be no hitting anyone with this hand. Actually, do you guys mind if she gets this taken care of really fast? I definitely wouldn’t have her returning to work today, but tomorrow she could be on the register, or something that won’t get her hand dirty.” He glances up to look at your coworkers, who instantly tell you two to get out of here.

“Go get that thing taken care of, girl. Trust me, we got this. Next time you come in, we’ll cover your drink doc.” Kiera promises him with a thankful smile.

“That’s not necessary, but it’s greatly appreciated,” Dennis tells them as he ushers you out.

“Don’t you want to grab your drink first?” You question him, pointing behind the two of you. He simply laughs at your questions and shakes his head no.

“This is a little more important than my drink. Plus, Trinity is feeling better and came in with me. Hopefully, she’ll get me one. If not, I’ll just drink a black coffee like the others,” he shrugs while urging you across the street.

At first, you didn’t realize it, but now that he’s guiding you across the street, you notice his hand on the small of your back. After acknowledging this, it’s hard to ignore it, but you try your hardest to act indifferent.

“How long is the wait going to be?” You clear your throat while trying to move away from his touch. It’s casual, so he doesn’t notice; however, he simply catches up to you with his hand remaining in the same spot.

“Oh, you won’t have to wait. I’ve had plenty of coworkers take in people they know and get treated. Plus, this is something I can clean up in the breakroom, and it’s quick and easy. As long as that’s okay with you?” The two of you walk into the waiting room, and he patiently waits for your answer.

He doesn’t bat an eye at the crowd that fills the seats, whereas it’s all you notice. People have various injuries, some complaining of a stomach ache, while others were draining blood from an arm wound. Even though it’s rude, you can’t help but stare at everyone.

“You deal with this every day?”

“Sometimes it’s busier,” he frowns for a second, “but that’s besides the point. Do you want to wait, or do you feel comfortable with me treating you before my shift starts?”

“I feel like a scumbag for saying this, but yeah. I’ll definitely take you up on your offer. I think I’ll have a panic attack after twenty minutes in here,” you tell him honestly.

He gives you a look of understanding before gently guiding you through the crowd. A couple of people bump into your hand, which causes some curse words to fall from your lips. When you reach the door, a woman buzzes Dennis through, and you’re met with people running from place to place.

“Just keep following me,” his tone is gentle as he continues to guide you. Now that you two are in his place of work, you realize he doesn’t only have a hand on the small of your back, but he is now holding your arm upright. “Alright, here is the break room. Let’s get this checked out.”

“Dr. Whitaker, what do we have here?” An older male with brown hair questions. Dennis sighs while closing his eyes momentarily.

“Dr. Robby,” he sends him a small smile, “my barista—not my barista—but um, sorry, that came out weird.”

“I’m his barista,” you tell his coworker while biting back a laugh. “I burnt my hand pretty badly, and Dr. Whitaker offered to help me when he saw it at the shop. I hope that’s okay. If not, I’ll leave. I don’t want him getting in trouble,” the words rush out. Dr. Robby looks as though he wants to laugh at the two of you before he shakes his head.

“Go ahead, Dr. Whitaker. Just try to get your barista taken care of before your shift starts. The night shift had a rough night, and we have a lot to catch up on. It’s nice meeting you, and you’re in good hands,” the older doctor tells you. A smirk pulls at your lips from his dumb joke as your eyes land on Dennis.

“So, let’s get this patched up before you get in trouble,” you tell him while gesturing to the door. He simply nods and invites you into the small room that’s currently empty. “So what do you have to do?”

“Well, your coworker was actually doing the right thing. First, we’re going to run some cool water over the burns. So let’s start with that first,” he waves you toward the sink. You nod before following behind him. When your skin touches the running water, you hiss from the pain. “Sorry,” Dennis winces.

“It’s fine,” your eyes squeeze shut while the water continues to run over your burning skin. “So what else?”

“We’re going to do this for about five minutes, then dry it off. I have some nonstick gauze in the first aid kit, so we’ll wrap the hand in that. We don’t want anything touching or rubbing against it, but I need you to change it at least once. It doesn’t look infected, so we don’t have to worry about antibiotics or anything like that yet. But, if you notice anything unusual, like it’s leaking pus or the pain is too much, come back here to get some antibiotics. Other than that, I recommend taking over-the-counter pain relievers like ibuprofen for the pain.”

“Okay,” you lamely respond as he shuts the water off. He sends you a small smile before gesturing to the empty chair at the table. You take a seat while he digs around in the staff lounge’s first-aid kit.

“Got it,” Dennis chirps with the supplies in hand. “May I?”

“Yeah,” you hoarsely say while hesitantly letting him take your hand.

“This might hurt a bit,” he sends you a sympathetic look. You wave him off with your free hand and suck in a deep breath.

“Just do it, doc.” Your eyes squeeze shut as he begins to dab the irritated skin. When you grumbled some choice words, he apologized quietly. After a moment, you crack your eyes open to notice how focused the blonde is in front of you.

“Okay, now I’m just going to wrap it up. It shouldn’t be too bad now. I feel like the drying part is worse.” Dennis fiddles with the gauze before wrapping it around your hand. “Is this okay? Not too tight?” His eyes flicker up to meet yours.

Your face flushes from the intimate proximities before clearing your throat and breaking eye contact. “Uh, yeah, it’s fine.” Dennis nods before smoothing his hand over the band-aid.

“Alright, you’re set. Now remember, go home and keep the bandage dry. Change it at least one more time, and if it hurts, take some pain relievers,” he continues to hold your hand gently as you stand from your seat. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize I was still–yep, I’ll just let you have this back,” he laughs as he releases your hand.

A light laugh falls from your lips at his awkward reaction, like he hadn’t been holding your hand for the past fifteenish minutes. “It’s okay,” you reassure him with a grin on your face. “Now, I hate to be annoying and needy, but can you walk me out? I know you need to get back, but I completely forgot the blueprints of the place.”

Dennis’s eyes go wide at your words before vigorously nodding his head. “Yes, that’s not a problem at all. I have a couple of minutes left, and if I get in trouble, at least I was helping someone.” He holds the door open for you to walk out of.

When you thank him and walk past him, you notice a little crowd standing outside the staff lounge. Your eyebrows raise as the number of people in scrubs who wear knowing looks on their faces. Even the doctor you met earlier, Dr. Robby, glances through the top of his glasses with a smirk on his face. Dennis freezes in his spot while his coworkers eye him, clearly enjoying the view.

“How is your barista doing, Whitaker?” An older blonde woman asks him. She wears a nurse leader badge and her arms cross over her chest, chewing on a piece of gum. You feel like a zoo animal with the way everyone stares at both of you.

“She’s doing good. I was just going to walk her out, then come pick up some patients,” he hesitantly says with a slight tilt of his head. You noticed Trinity wiggling her eyebrows at him before he gave her a warning look.

“Alright, hurry back, hun, we need you back here. It’s nice to meet you, sweetheart. We’ve been hearing about this barista across the street. Heard you guys are going on a little date soon. Don’t worry, I told Whitaker about my favorite diner. You’ll have to let me know what you think. Now, you two get a move on, we have patients that need to see us,” the blonde lady smiles.

Your face flushes as a couple of people snicker at the charge nurse, Dana’s words. The name on the tag is hard to read, but after staring at it for a moment, you were positive it said Dana. Dennis mumbles a quiet, come on, before guiding you out of the emergency department.

“Oh god, you weren’t lying. It really does get busier,” your mouth pops open from the amount of people piled into the waiting room. Dennis sends you a tight-lipped smile while scanning the crowd.

“Yeah, it’ll probably get busier, but let’s not jinx it either way,” he says while the both of you are near the door. “I’m sorry about that back there. They can’t be a little much.”

“It’s okay, um,” you clear your throat while holding up your hand, “thanks for this. I mean, I look like I’m ready for Halloween, being wrapped up like a mummy, but it’s fine.” Both of you laugh until the sound of an ambulance is heard. “I should probably go, but seriously, thank you so much. I owe you one.”

“How about you return the favor by going to dinner with me this Friday?” He questions you. Your eyebrows shot up at his forwardness, a smile tugging at your lips. “I would love to take you to the place Dana was talking about, if you want to.”

“I would love to. Friday night sounds like a plan,” you lightly sway before turning around.

“It’s a date!” He calls out to you.

When you turn to nod at him, you catch him doing some kind of dance with his back toward you. Your hand covers your mouth, so he can’t hear the laugh that comes from you. Oh, Ryan is going to be so excited to hear about this.

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Thank you so much for reading! I’m done with the barista!reader x the pitt characters, but it was so fun to do! Once again, please be kind! This is my second imagine and I’m new to this!