Spiral

by Mila Ferrera

  Lisa shifts her bag from one hand to the other and gives me a curious look. “I have to catch the 7:42 train, so we’d better get the trolley. And on the way, you should keep your promise to tell me about the gentlemanly fish.”

  “Oh, that,” I say, my heart thumping a little faster. “As it turns out, I’m meeting him in an hour or so. Just for dinner.”

  Lisa laughs. “It sounds like this is going to be an exciting year for Nessa Cavenaugh.”

  I bow my head as the heat of embarrassment creeps up my neck. “I don’t want it to be exciting. I want to get through it in one piece. Dr. Cavenaugh has a nice ring to it. And Lisa,” I add, “I think I may have given you the impression that I’m some party girl—”

  She pats my arm. “You’re intelligent, high-achieving, young, pretty, and single. And you’re surrounded by other young, single professionals. The party will seek you out, darling. Maybe you’ll find the one this year!”

  “Oh. Ha. Yeah. I’m not really … the one isn’t exactly what I’m … er.”

  We arrive at the trolley stop and she gives me a narrow-eyed look. “That is the mumbled response of a girl who’s been burned.”

  I roll my eyes as we shuffle onto the trolley. It rumbles forward as a flash of distant lightning flickers within the heavy clouds. “It was a long time ago. And kind of a disaster.” And I was the one who did the burning. Matt got down on one knee a few days before graduation, so certain of my yes after two years together, and that’s when I broke the news that this was the end of the line for us. It felt so oppressive, the promise of forever. I was only twenty-one, and I’d recently realized that my mind might be a ticking time bomb. That was the beginning of things, I guess. The moment I circled the emotional wagons and made my career my sole focus. “I just turned twenty-six, Lisa. And although your happily married suburban dream-life does look appealing in some ways, that’s a long way off for me.”

  She nudges me with her shoulder. “Sorry for pestering you like an old married lady. I hope you have fun tonight, no pressure.”

  “Exactly. That’s what I want.”

  “But he better not treat you like Nick did. My husband wanted to hit him. I’ve never seen Josh so mad.”

  I smile. “Sounds like you know a thing or two about gentlemanly fish.”

  Her face lights up. “That I do.”

  I walk with her from the trolley stop to the train station and cringe as a few drops of rain hit my cheeks. I forgot my umbrella this morning. And I’ve got fifteen minutes to walk to Cauldron in my slingbacks, which, despite their endearing lack of stiletto-ness, are starting to bite at my feet. I could text Aron and make an excuse. I have a few hours of work waiting for me back at my apartment. But … I want to see him, and once again, that desire wins the day. I pull my thin cardigan sweater around me and walk through University City, past the hospital, my steps quickening every time I hear thunder. I make it as the sky opens up and bolt into the dark restaurant, shaking drops off my fingertips—

  I bounce off someone standing in front of the hostess desk. Aron spins around and grabs my arms as I let out a startled yip. He grins when he sees it’s me. “So I had to catch you after all.”

  “You did an excellent job,” I say breathlessly. “Do you charge for this service as well?”

  His gaze lingers on my mouth and warmth curls low in my belly. “I might have to start.”

  “I’ll add it to our agenda for negotiation.”

  He chuckles and lets go of my arms. As more people come in to request tables, we inch toward a corner. He leans against the wall, tall and angular and gorgeous, and I stand close, wishing I had the right to put my hands on him. He looks like he nearly got caught in the downpour, too, and ran his fingers through his hair to knock away the drops. I’m so tempted to reach up and smooth the messy dark blond spikes. “How long have you lived in Philadelphia?” I ask.

  “A while. I went to Penn for med school and did my residency here. This is my first year of fellowship.”

  “And before that?”

  He raises an eyebrow.

  “Your accent,” I say. “You’re not from the States, are you?”

  “Damn,” he says. “I thought I could fool people.”

  “It’s subtle.” And really hot, like the rest of him. “So you probably fool a lot of people.”

  “But not you.” His gaze on me is like the stroke of a fingertip, and I shiver as it pulls me tight as a bowstring. “Because you notice things.”

  “I have to, right? I wouldn’t be very good at this job if I didn’t.”

  “Seems like it would be useful in other parts of your life as well.” He’s wearing an amused smile now, and I have to look away.

  “Well, that’s the part of my life that matters most to me.”

  He shifts closer, raising goosebumps as delicious chills course through me at the loss of space between us. “Did you always want to be a psychologist?”

  I shake my head. “I chose to be a psychologist because I wanted to focus on other people and not myself.” Which sounds more selfless than it actually is. “Did you always want to become a doctor?”

  “I did. My mother, father, and older brother are all attendings at the same hospital. I guess it runs in the family.”

  My stomach tightens. Better than what runs in my family. “Are they pediatric oncologists, too?”

  “My mother is. When I was young, she would bring me to the hospital on holidays to help hand out presents or treats to the patients. I can remember spending time with those kids, many of them close in age to me, many of them younger, and thinking how unfair it was. When I was done at the hospital, I could leave and play hockey or ski with my friends, and they couldn’t. Maybe they wouldn’t ever leave the hospital.” He shrugs, his expression solemn. “I decided I wanted to make the world more fair. That’s why I chose this specialty, I guess.”

  So he’s gorgeous and noble. Uh oh.

  “I’m just at the beginning,” he adds. “My fellowship is three years of additional training, both directly with patients and doing research.”

  Whoa. “And I thought I had to go through a lot of training. Once I’m done with internship, it’s maybe two years of post-doc, then I can get my license to practice.”

  The corner of his mouth lifts. “I don’t think anyone would say that isn’t a lot of training. People must think we’re crazy, to spend the whole of our twenties as students.”

  I chuckle. “I’ve heard that a time or two. My Aunt Kathy told me I was wasting my ‘pretty years’ on my career.”

  His gaze dances over me. “Good thing you have more than your share, then.” He lets that sink in—and oh, does it ever … I feel those words like a hot caress—and then he adds, “But who says we can’t actually have lives while we slave away?”

  The hostess calls our number, saving me from having to answer. She looks nearly as dazzled as I am when she catches sight of Aron. She keeps looking over her shoulder at him as she leads us to a table in the back. It’s packed in here, full of couples and a few families, as well as lots of Penn students. The smell of wet leather duels with the scent of garlic and onions for supremacy. Aron pulls out my chair for me and as I sink into it, he leans forward, and I feel his warmth near my cheek, like he’s breathing me in.

  “I’m originally from Sweden, to answer your earlier question,” he says as he sits down. “I decided to be adventurous and come here for medical school, but my family lives in Stockholm.”

  “You do look a little like a Viking,” I say before thinking better of it.

  Heat immediately suffuses my cheeks, but he laughs. “Is that a compliment?”

  Oh yeah. “Can I plead the fifth on that one?”

  His eyes spark with amusement. “It’ll cost you.”

  “Are we back to this? How much are you charging me now?”

  His mouth quirks up as he considers. “Let’s get through dinner, and then I’ll decide.”

  And that’s what we do. We talk about
the hospital, and my dissertation research, and he actually seems interested. He explains the ins and outs of the different kinds of leukemia, and that should be either a total downer or a complete snoozefest, but somehow it’s the opposite. He tells me a little about Stockholm and asks about where I grew up. I offer the idyllic part but hold back on the drama that was part of life with my dad. It’s a basic get-to-know-you conversation, but by the time I’ve finished my tomato basil soup, I’m crushing so hard that I can barely think past the moment. Everything about him, his voice, his wicked smile, his long fingers, his messy hair, the way he prefers tea over coffee, the way he looks at me and no one else … everything draws me in. I forget all the work I have to do. I forget to worry about things getting complicated. I forget to think of anything but him.

  The waitress brings the check long before I’m ready for the evening to end, and he snatches it from the table. “Hey!” I say. “If I pay that, we’re pretty much even!”

  He grins as he fishes his wallet from his pocket. “Exactly.”

  “You’re evil.” And by that, of course, I mean awesome.

  “You have no idea,” he says, and once again I’m left wondering how he does things to my body without even touching it. Heaven help me if he actually does.

  We’re about to get up when I look across the restaurant and see Nick, of all people. “Oh no,” I mumble, looking for a way out. I so don’t want to deal with him tonight. He’s with Justin, the other male intern, who has a gangly, youthful appearance that matches his awkward, quiet manner. They’re drinking beers and have empty soup bowls in front of them. It doesn’t seem like they’ve seen us, and I’d like to keep it that way.

  Aron comes around the table and follows the direction of my gaze. “Ah, your fellow intern. Mr. Samson.” His voice has gone cool. “He seems to like you very much. I actually wondered if you were together until I saw the look on your face at the end of rounds.”

  “Us? Together? Oh, no. No. Not happening. Ever.” I force my mouth shut as his eyebrow arches. “I …” don’t want to walk past him. I can only imagine what he would think. And say. My eyes streak along the wall, seeking a way out.

  Aron leans close and speaks in my ear. “Let’s make our escape.” His fingers close over mine, and he tugs me down the hallway toward the bathrooms. I cling to his hand, any thought of Nick evaporating as I focus on the warmth of Aron’s skin. He tows me along a dark, wood-paneled corridor, and gives me a sidelong glance full of mischief. “Look like you know where you’re going,” he says in a low voice.

  Then he leads me into the kitchen. Heat rolls over me in a steamy wave as a few startled cooks stare at us, but Aron walks straight for the back exit like he owns the place. No one says a word as he pushes the door open.

  The sound of pouring rain makes him pause. His fingers tighten around my hand, and he looks over his shoulder at me. “Point of no return, Nessa,” he whispers. “What’ll it be?”

  I don’t hesitate. “Let’s go.”

  He grins. Then he pulls me into the storm.

  In a raw second, I am soaked to the skin. Fat drops slide through my hair and down my face. We’re in a low lit alley. The narrow lane that leads to the street is nearly swamped with puddles. Aron looks down at my feet and frowns, and for the first time, I see uncertainty flash in his expression. “It’s okay,” I say, laughing as water from the drainpipes splashes over my bare toes. “Maybe this will shave a few bucks off what I owe you?”

  He turns to me, rain running down his cheeks. “I think it’s time for serious negotiations,” he says. His thumb strokes over the back of my hand as he watches me carefully, like he’s looking for a sign. When I don’t pull away, he tugs me forward until my breasts brush his chest. Instantly my nipples tighten and the rest of me goes soft and wet and hot. His arm slips around my waist, bringing me against his lean body. I blink up at him, drops of rain clinging to my eyelashes and flowing down the beautiful angles of his face, tension and anticipation coiling within me.

  Then we both move at the same time. He ducks his head and I rise on my tiptoes, and we collide. His lips taste like rain, and I’m a woman lost at sea, so thirsty. My hands are on his chest, fingers curling over slabs of muscle, and he slides his hand into my hair so he can hold me close. His tongue strokes along the seam of my mouth, and I gasp at the heat as I open for him. He tastes of spice and tea, completely delicious. A voice in the recesses of my mind whispers be careful. I hold onto that thought until he backs me up against the building and I feel the long, hard length of him against my belly. It sends a shocking, tingling bolt of need straight to my core, so intense that my legs start to shake. He swallows my moan.

  The rain pours down on us as we kiss, but Aron shields me from it as he bows over me. His stubble scrapes against my skin and my fingers burrow into his hair. I touch every inch of exposed skin, desperate for more as his hand runs down my side to press my hips to his. We’re panting, our uneven breaths sharp as we devour.

  I’ve never had a one night stand. In fact, the only person I’ve allowed that close to me was Matt. But right now, I am made of lust and heat. I am slick and wet and dying for Aron. I want him and I don’t care about anything else. It’s terrifying and amazing at the same time.

  He finally pulls back and lays his forehead on mine, his chest heaving. I raise my chin to capture his lips again, but he lifts his head out of my reach. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice rough. “I’ve been wanting to do that ever since you smeared lipstick on my shirt.”

  “I’ve been wanting you to do it since before that, so it’s okay,” I reply, wondering if he’s about to tell me it was a mistake, wondering if I’d agree.

  His fingers caress my cheek as drops of rain splash from the spiky tips of his golden hair onto my forehead. “I like you, Nessa.” He sounds bemused. As if it caught him off guard.

  I know it caught me off guard. “I like you, too, Aron.” So much that my whole body’s aching with it. So much that if he hiked up my skirt right now, I’d wrap my legs around his waist and hold on tight.

  He smiles. “So maybe you’ll do this with me again?”

  I laugh. “This?” I glance up at the rain falling through the light of a streetlamp.

  “Well. Dinner. But this … yes, I’d do this again, too.”

  “So would I.” As soon as those words come out, I clamp my mouth shut to keep it from pulling me deeper into whatever this is. But then he tucks a wet ribbon of hair behind my ear and lowers his head to kiss me, a lingering touch of his warm lips that tilts my world and has me surging onto my tiptoes, wanting more.

  After a few more wild minutes, he pulls back again with a chuckle. “Wow. Okay. We need to get out of this alley before I shed my civilized side completely.”

  As he steps back, my gaze slides to his pants, where the evidence of his desire is pretty … prominent. It draws an involuntary, appreciative sigh from my mouth, but Aron’s got his eyes squeezed shut like he’s trying to think of lymphoblasts and promyelocytes and anything but kissing me. I kind of love the way I’ve affected him. It’s intoxicating. I’ve never felt as desirable as I do now, with this gorgeous guy standing in the rain, trying to tamp down the hard-on he has because of me. “You okay there?”

  He lets out a shaky laugh. “This is going to hurt. But that’s not really your problem.”

  “What if I want it to be?” My mouth snaps shut again. Thinking it is one thing. But saying it? I’ve never been this forward. But I’ve never been so attracted to anyone, either.

  He opens his eyes and nails me with a heated look. “Don’t say that to me right now, Nessa. I only have so much restraint.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “Come on. I think I’m ready to show myself in public again, and you need to get home.”

  He leads me by the hand, and we splash toward the sidewalk. I’m wondering if he’s going to offer to drive me—and if I should say yes—when we emerge from the alley.

  Right as Nick and Justin come out of the restaurant. Th
ey come to a stop beneath the awning, and Nick’s eyes go wide as he sees me standing there with Aron, both of us soaked to the bone. “Ness?” he says in a strangled voice. “You’re with—”

  “Yes,” says Aron icily, standing close by my side.

  The look of disgust on Nick’s face turns my stomach. “So that’s how it is? You’re gonna use this year to get through as many guys as you can? Is Justin here next?”

  I’m too shocked by his rudeness to form words, and Aron sounds pretty taken aback, too. “Excuse me?” he says, taking a step toward Nick with his eyes narrowed.

  Justin jerks his head toward the corner and mumbles, “Let’s just go, Nick.”

  Nick ignores him, jaw clenched. “Don’t think you can come crawling back to me when you’re through, Ness.”

  Aron turns to me, realization dawning. “You … and him? But you said—”

  “N-no,” I stammer.

  “Yes,” says Nick, a nasty imitation of Aron’s response from a second ago.

  I pull my hand from Aron’s grip, unable to bear the way any of these guys are looking at me, my thoughts short-circuiting, panic setting in. Lights flash in the street. The trolley. My escape. “I have to go,” I mutter. “I have work to do … readings … thanks for dinner.”

  I bolt across the street as the trolley shudders to a stop. I think someone calls my name from the sidewalk, but I don’t turn to see who, and I can barely hear it through the hissing downpour. I stomp up the stairs and shove a few dollars at the driver. I refuse to allow myself to glance over at the guys as I stumble to the first empty seat. The trolley lurches into motion, headed across the river toward Center City, and I put my head into my hands and work very hard not to cry.

  Chapter Five

  I fling my bag onto the couch, take a quick, cold shower, and dive into bed, knowing there’s no way I’ll get a single thing done if I try to work now. I toss and turn and lie awake, listening to the thunder, reliving those frantic, charged minutes in the alley—and the awful minutes afterward. I got completely carried away, and maybe running into Nick was the shove I needed—right back into reality. I’m not here to hook up with guys. I need to keep my priorities straight. All the same, loss and disappointment wind their poisonous way through my brain: I’ve shared my first and last kiss with Aron, who I was liking for a lot more than his looks, and who I’m sure has decided he doesn’t want anything to do with me after my nutty behavior. It shouldn’t be a big deal. I barely know the guy. And heaven knows I’m not looking for a relationship right now. I keep telling myself that, hoping that at some point, it’s going to sink in.