by Bri Stone
I cringe. “Jeez, Phoebe, I am not talking about that with you.” I make a face as I leave the building for my class.
“Oh, cool it, you’re my baby brother, of course, I’ll talk about it with you!”
“Right. And I suppose I can do the same with those guys you hang around?”
“No. Respect your elders. I gotta go, tell me how it goes!” Phoebe hangs up before I can protest, or even tell her I will not, in fact, be bringing condoms. It’s barely our second date, and I was raised with southern Christian values.
Jim and Daniel don’t have Friday class, so when I get home, they are in the kitchen in the middle of an argument. Friendly, but heated.
“Pete, will you please tell this airhead that—”
“Nope, don’t bring me into this.” I go in the fridge and get the right stuff out for a protein shake.
“Pft, whatever.” Daniel waves his hand.
“What’s that look for?” Jim sits on the high stool in front of me. I hadn’t realized I was smiling to myself.
“Uh, nothing.”
Daniel circles the kitchen. “No, not nothing. Spit it out.”
I glance between them. “I have a date tonight with Melinda,” I give in.
“No shit. Where are you taking her?” Jim claps my shoulder and pulls back with a grin, Daniel nods in acceptance and I don’t know why it feels like sophomore year in high school all over again.
“Nowhere. We’re having a movie night here, so you both need to make yourselves scarce come six or leave.” I thumb toward the doorway.
They both let out incredulous laughs. “Okay, you aren’t kicking us out of our own house. And second, why are you bringing her here? Take her to see a movie.”
I smile, remembering my sister as I blend the apple protein shake. When it stops I say, “That’s what everyone expects. It will be different.”
“Shit. Okay then. So, do we get to meet her?” Daniel asks.
I frown. “I’m leaning towards no.” I step into the living room behind the kitchen’s swinging door and they follow.
By the time I sit down on the couch, they’ve started up the gaming system. The movie idea isn’t bad considering our television is a fifty inch, with surround sound and subwoofers.
“We’ll behave, and even make you look good. Besides, you don’t want us out of the house sabotaging you.”
I swallow, “Sorry, I forgot we were in junior high.” Jim hands me a controller, Apparently, I’ve been looped into playing. I hate video games because I’m not a visual person and I forget things quickly, so I never remember what to do.
“Oh, Pete. I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Of what?”
Daniel eyes me with his blue globes, “Nothing.” He smirks, “Let’s play the game.”
PETE
* * *
I’ve showered, dressed in my ‘nice’ jeans and dark blue long-sleeved tee, and checked that I had all the right ingredients on the counter before I headed to Melinda’s place. The address she sent was somewhere I hadn’t been before and had to use the GPS—so much for knowing the city well.
The place is out in Brazos Park so it takes me about fifteen minutes to get there. The outside has faded paint and old brick and a small parking lot in which I’m lucky to find a spot in. I call Melinda, to ask her which door hers is because she hadn’t told me.
“You’re early.” She answers.
“I can wait outside until seven.” I smile. “Which door is yours?” I lock my truck manually.
“Twenty-one ten.”
“Okay, I’ll be there in a second.” I hang up first and set off for the entrance.
It didn’t seem right to not stop for flowers, so I grabbed a bouquet from the same street vendor that sells hotdogs on game day. The bouquet of red roses and bright sunflowers is wrapped in thick, brown parchment paper and smells good.
I head to the second floor and, low and behold, forget her apartment number. I groan, combing through my hair before I get my phone out and go to call her, but find a message from Melinda instead.
Melinda: 2110. In case you forgot
I smirk, at the fact that she has been paying attention. Steps later, I’m knocking on the pale white door. I tingle in anticipation to see her. Guys like me don’t tingle. But Melinda is under my skin, tugging at my nerves and all of my heartstrings. I knock then, after a moment, hear the patter of her feet just before the door swings open.
“Evenin’, sweetness.” I take her in like a breath of fresh air.
Melinda makes casual look like royalty in her faded jeans tight like a second skin, and a pink long-sleeved shirt that shines off her brown skin and wraps her body at every crevice.
“You look gorgeous,” I add as I hand her the flowers. Her eyes light up for a short moment, an expression crossing her face like wonder. She tucks her wavy hair behind her ear as she grabs them.
“Thank you. Is this okay?” she asks, gesturing to her outfit. “You said casual.”
“You’d look gorgeous in anything. Are you ready to go?”
Melinda nods once, transfixed by the flowers. “Um, yeah. I should put these in water—come in.” She waves me inside and I step into the small corridor, close to her for a few seconds as she shuts the door and leads me inside.
I get a good whiff of her scent, so familiar to me by now. But in her apartment, it’s even more intense as it fills the space. Berries, coconut, and thick like oil but not so much that it’s overbearing. Subtle, but effective.
We round the corner to her kitchen; brown cabinets and white appliances. I look around; the living room hides halfway behind a wall but I see her mismatched furniture and it makes me smile because it seems like her. I don’t notice a television or even any decorations besides abstract paintings.
“Nice place.” I grin at her.
She peers at me from over the flowers she is dipping into a vase of water. “Thanks. It isn’t much.”
“Well, I like it.”
She sets the vase on the landing between the kitchen and living room, I see her smile at them before she turns to me, chewing the inside of her lip. I cock my head at her, meeting her eyes.
“It’s just that no one’s ever got me flowers before.” She wrings her fingers together, her orange painted fingernails standing out.
“I’ll get you a million more bouquets if it makes you happy.” I smile softly. She only stares back at me like she doesn’t know what to say.
I take her hand and hold it all the way out to the car until she gets in. I jog around to my side and start the engine.
“Why did you want me to dress casual? Where are we going.”
I back out, my hand behind her head rest as I look behind me. “The one who hates questions is doing the interrogating?” I arch my brow. “Plot twist.” I sing.
I feel her frown and I set off for my house.
“We’re going to my place. It’s a movie date, just not at the movies.”
She is silent for a moment and I am almost prepared to smite Phoebe from afar.
“That’s creative,” she glances at me and I look at her when I come to a red light, “but I’m not having sex with you.”
Melinda surveys the entrance to my house as we stand in the foyer. I’m partially glad the guys aren’t here to make a scene, but then hoping something would break the tension in the air.
I lead her through the entrance to the kitchen, on the opposite side of the entryway and dining room that is just a place we pile our bags.
“You live here alone?” She asks.
“No, I have two roommates. My best friends, Jim and Daniel.” Facing her, I kick open the kitchen door and she follows me in.
“Are they—what’s all this?” She pauses at the door, looking at the kitchen island in question.
I grin at her, walking around the other side. “Our movie snacks. We have to make everything from scratch.” I hold my hands out and she stares back at me with that funny look of hers; where she looks
up at me through her lashes and parts her upper lip in an arch.
“I know nothing about cooking—or baking.”
I shuffle back over to her, a few inches away from her. “Seriously?”
“What? All women are supposed to know how to throw it down in the kitchen?”
I laugh, “No. So do you eat takeout all the time?” My eyes travel down and up her body once. Her small frame isn’t lacking for curves, the little extra around her middle.
“Mostly. Do you even know how to cook?” Her brow arches as she wrinkles her nose.
I smile, leaning down closer to her face until I see the whites of her eyes and blush line of her makeup. “I’m from the south, sweetness. It’d be a disgrace if I didn’t know how.”
She parts her full, pillowy lips and I do what I’ve been thinking of since I saw her. Her slight intake of breath when I press my lips to hers is music to my ears. As I cup her cheek softly, she lays her hands over my arms and her touch spreads throughout my body. I part her lips and she softly complies as I feel her step up onto her tiptoes.
My senses come alive so fast I feel whipped. By just our lips moving softly together, my knees damn near buckle as I keep from pressing her into the counter and never letting her go. I settle for her hands at the nape of my neck, sliding through my hair before I feel the crook of her elbow. Her front presses to me, the swells of her breasts on the hard planes of my chest. I inhale sharply at the feel of her, the way she takes all of me prisoner, and I know that I’ll beat my knees for her every whim.
I’m falling for Melinda, she’s falling for me… it seems she realizes it and pulls away.
I release her, pulling back to watch her lids fly open and show me her big brown eyes gazing up at me in question. I don’t have any answer other than that I feel it too, and that I don’t know why she wants to fight it.
My hands slip from her waist as I swallow hard. Stepping back, she clears her throat. Our kiss swings in the air—I want more, and I know she does too.
“So, what are we making?” Melinda licks her lips and steps out of our bubble of heat.
“Pretzels with cheese dip, of course, and chocolate covered popcorn.” I slide my hands together as she looks back at me.
“Okay… and what are we watching?”
“Whatever you want, I have a whole DVD collection.” It’s mostly stuff the guys and I have accumulated, but ours nonetheless.
“’Kay.” She giggles. “Can I have water, please?” Her eyes dart around. I nod and get a glass from the cabinet.
“Thirsty?” I grin knowingly at her and I see her cheeks darken. The russet tone of her skin is soft; I see when she blushes.
I leave her be and pour her a glass, then we get started.
“You don’t need to look at a recipe?” She asks, inquisition in her eyes.
“I know how to make everything because I always followed Momma around the kitchen growing up, and since I was the only boy, the girls always enlisted me as their assistant. As a kid, I felt important, then I grew up and realized I was being used. “
“So, you do this a lot?” Melinda watches me as I knead the dough and cut it up, then form it into jumbo pretzels.
“Mostly. My sisters liked doing this stuff growing up, so I learned by association.”
Melinda leans over, peering up at me. “How many sisters do you have?”
“Four. I’m the youngest.”
She laughs once, “That must have been fun.”
I cringe, “Are you kidding? I knew what Cabbage Patch Dolls were before I knew what my dick was,” I shudder, but it only seems to make her laugh. “What? You think it’s funny? I was traumatized,” I feign clutching my chest at the memory.
She only shakes her head, a wave of her brown hair falling forward. “Okay, Pete.”
“Whatever. Make yourself useful and melt the chocolate.”
She scowls but pours the chocolate pieces into a bowl. Then she moves to stuff it in the microwave.
“Hold up now, you’ll burn it like that.” I take the bowl from her as she looks at me in confusion, “You gotta add milk, sweetness.” I pour some heavy cream and start it for two minutes.
She sighs, “This is difficult.” She mutters.
I smile at her and form more pretzels. “Just think of it as a chemical equation. Some aqueous, some have a precipitate and some don’t.” I shrug.
“You know chemistry?”
“I had to take principles and inorganic,” I explain.
“Oh… why did you choose hydraulic engineering?” A curious tone pikes her voice.
Everything is finished, so I pop it in the oven and get the chocolate out.
“I want to improve the farm process one day, not just ours but others too. Better water irrigation, using that to power other things. It was just a thought, but I wasn’t about to major in general education, not when the NCAA was paying for it.”
She is quiet as I lay the chocolate over the popcorn and put it in the other oven just for keeping it warm.
“Why do you want to be a doctor—or is it a surgeon?” I ask her. I go over to the sink to wash my hands, with my back to her I can’t see her face.
“Orthopedic surgeon… I don’t know. I like having the ability to fix things.”
I turn and face her, lowering my voice, “You dealt with a lot of broken stuff?”
Her eyes widen at my understanding and she nods once. I smile softly at her, crossing the space to stand between her and the cabinet.
“Do you have any family, Melinda?”
She shakes her head, “No.”
“Friends?”
She scoffs, “Lab partners.”
I almost smile. Instead, I tug a stray hair of hers behind my ear and she leans into me for a short second, I almost don’t notice.
“Well, I’ll be your friend.” I grin slightly.
Her lips tug at a smile, “I think we’re beyond friends.”
I feign confusion, “Why? Because we kiss? Nah.” I shrug my shoulder and take her hips in my hands as she nods.
“We can be close friends who kiss.” I plant one on her, short and sweet before I pull away to see her eyes light up.
“Okay.” She does smile now.
“But one day you’ll be my girl,” I kiss her again, this time sucking her lips softly before I pull away.
She only looks up at me, her face softening. “Okay, Pete.”
MELINDA
* * *
The hardest thing about being a doctor is the judgment calls. There is a very thin line between letting someone die and deciding there is nothing more to do. It makes people think we see ourselves as gods, but we are only servants of the inevitable.
“Even if I repair this rupture, there is no telling if it will hold. I have been trying to hold this suture for thirty minutes.” Garrett hacks out a breath of frustration. We all step away from the table, I haven’t even scrubbed back in yet as I hold the mask over my mouth.
How long was I gone in Pete’s room? There is so much bloody packing, it looks like nine surgeries have taken place.
“And his abdomen is so distended, tears in all his lining,” Green adds.
I trust Luke to chime in, “Dude is falling apart. What are we supposed to do?” His eyes harden behind his mask. “You know what, there are other patients we can be attending to. I have other patients.” He steps back, and the OR reacts immediately. The nurses gasping, the anesthesiologist watching numbers closely.
“You can’t just leave, Nelson,” I interject.
“Right.” He rolls his eyes and Green chimes in.
“Look, all of us would rather be someone else but there is no principle here—he’s a patient and we’re stumped.”
I look at her brows tugged together in frustration, Garrett staring down a shattered skull flap and Luke halfway out the door.
“There is a principle here,” I start and they turn their attention to me, “we assess the worst of his injuries. Leave the things that aren’
t urgent. Then pack and close him until he is stable enough for another surgery, he’s been under too long.”
Silence ensues as they think. Then we act.
Two hours later I walk away from the police. My feet burn, but that’s nothing new. My head pounds, and that isn’t new either. My heart… it just started beating again. I make my way back to Pete’s room, not expecting anything. I feel like nine days have passed and my skin sags over but I stand tall as I enter his room, but he isn’t there.
I inhale in shock and look around before I know for sure he isn’t there. I ask a nurse at the station, hoping I don’t have to bribe her again.
“Oh, his throat was just feeling irritated so he went back to the ER for an eval. Should still be there.” She is more interested in her lollipop than him, but I don’t mind. I got my answer.
It takes fifteen minutes to cross the hospital. The ER is still in aftermath of the day, the floors streaked with a quick clean of blood in certain places. The stations are back to normal, the examination rooms no longer used as ORs. I find a regular occurrence; a little kid fell from a tree—somehow that’s normal. He’s smallish with olive skin, covered in sheen of his sweat from the pain, and his mother tries hopelessly to comfort him. In her pajamas, straight from the relaxing night she was probably having, she is on the phone with who I assume could be the father. The kid stops crying, and the nurse focuses on him while he clutches at his arm, looking to his mother. It’s like a bomb didn’t go off earlier at all.
I find a nurse at the nurse’s station and since my lab coat is off, she eyes my tattoos like they’re a banned species.
“Hey, did Pete Buchanan come down here? He was in the bombing from earlier.” I ask her. I recognize her face but I don’t know her name, there are so many of them.
“He’s in two.”
I charge for it with a determined step, a little worried about him too. What if soot got down his throat and infected his lungs? So many what ifs… couldn’t he have just sprained an ankle?
I pull the curtain back, “Pete…” I start, but he isn’t alone.