Chelly jerked her thumb toward me as I said, “That’s me.”
The woman sat down beside me, but leaned forward in her chair so she could talk to both of us. “I’m Dr. Richmond.”
“Hi,” I said lamely.
“Willmont is going to be just fine,” she said, patting my hand. “He had a bad pretty allergic reaction, but it’s a good thing you got him in here so quickly. I would have come out before, but we wanted to stabilize his breathing and make sure he was responding well to the treatment. And then there was an emergency up on one of the wards that I had to deal with in the interim and things got kind of crazy. Sorry you were stuck out here waiting.”
“It’s okay,” I exhaled. “Thank you. Really. I’m just glad he’s okay.”
“He should really carry an EpiPen,” she said. “We’ve given him a prescription.”
“He’s usually really careful what he eats,” Chelly said. “At the masquerade dance he didn’t eat anything at all because there was seafood on one of the platters.”
Dr. Richmond looked from Chelly to me, her eyebrows raised and her look pure mischief. Obviously she knew the origin of Dave’s reaction. Please don’t say anything. Please. Didn’t you take an oath or something? Thou shalt treat patients and not tell their friends they were making out, causing a potentially lethal allergic reaction. That had to be in the Hippocratic Oath somewhere.
“Yes, well, make sure your boyfriend fills that prescription and carries it on him. He was very lucky this time. He may not be next time.”
“Boyfriend?” Chelly muttered and then gasped. I suddenly felt her eyes trained like lasers on the side of my head.
Crap.
“Thank you so much, doctor,” I said, extending my hand and very deliberately turning my back on Chelly so she wouldn’t see my hot face. “I’ll make sure he gets that EpiPen. Can we see him?”
She shook my hand and then stood up, shoving her hands in the pockets of her lab coat. “Soon. We’ve got him on the oxygen and then we’ll keep him for a few hours, but I’ll send the volunteer out when you’re okay to go in.”
“Thanks again,” I said and watched her walk away, buying my time because in 3...2...1...
“Uh, Brooklyn?” Chelly said quietly behind me.
“Yeah?” I responded, not turning around.
“You want to tell me something?”
“No, I do not.” I got up and walked away from her, taking one of the chairs on the other side of the waiting room right in front of the TV. Because I was suddenly very interested in the news or weather or sports; whatever was on.
There was no dodging her, though. “It was the shrimp, wasn’t it,” she said from right behind me. Her tone was off and I couldn’t tell if she was amused or mad and I was kind of dying to know, but at the same time, I was afraid to look her in the eye.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said over my shoulder.
“Oh right,” she said. Now I could read the tone—amused sarcasm. I could almost hear her eyes rolling toward the ceiling. “So you expect me to believe that Dave had an allergic reaction to shellfish after eating a hot dog.”
“Maybe there was shrimp in the hot dog. We didn’t exactly see the labels,” I said. It was a losing battle and I knew it, but for whatever reason, I wasn’t ready to give up yet. Maybe she’d take pity on me and let it go, I thought.
Or not. “You made out with him, didn’t you? You made him have that reaction with your mouthful of shrimpy spit.”
“Disgusting. And no,” I protested halfheartedly. “Not exactly,” although that was exactly what had happened. “My mouth wasn’t full of shrimpy spit. It was probably just a trace. It could have happened from sharing a soda.”
“But it didn’t.” Chelly was obviously really enjoying herself now.
“No,” I finally said, blowing out all the air in my lungs. Maybe if I just owned up to it, at least we could talk about it and I could beg her to keep it to herself. But I still couldn’t bring myself to look at her when I said it. “Fine. It wasn’t a can of soda. I was making out with him and made him have a reaction with my shrimpy spit. Okay? Happy now?”
“Brooklyn?” I heard from behind me.
Oh God, no. I closed my eyes, begging the floor to open up and swallow me whole.
“Oh hey, Coach Brady,” Chelly said, the smile still in her voice.
Brady muttered something at her and then said my name again.
I slowly turned around and looked at him in all my furiously blushing glory.
“Hi,” I managed. And then I realized he was on crutches and his right leg was in a cast. “What happened?” I gasped even though it was obvious. But at least it gave me something to say and a way to deflect away from what he’d obviously heard.
“I had an accident at the stables,” he said, his voice clipped.
“Brady, I’ll go get the car, you...” Dean Haywood broke off as she came down the hallway and noticed us.
Oh this is just getting better and better.
Chelly’s head snapped toward me and even in my peripheral vision, I could see her eyes were as wide as dinner plates, reminding me that as far as she knew, Brady was having some sort of sordid affair with the dean. And wasn’t this perfect evidence of that? Awesome.
“Ms. Prescott, Ms. Spencer,” the dean said, her forehead wrinkling in concern as she looked at us. “What’s wrong? I wasn’t notified...” she pulled her cell phone from her purse and started scrolling through her screen.
“It’s not one of us,” Chelly said. “One of the boys had an allergic reaction at the fundraiser and Brooklyn brought him here. The doctor was just here and said he’ll be okay, though.”
I was grateful for Chelly’s recap, but I could still feel Brady’s intense eyes on me and I wondered how much he’d heard. Though there was no doubt he’d heard the part about shrimpy spit and of course, making out.
“How are you getting back to campus?” the dean asked. “Where’s Mr. Stratton? Do you need a ride? ”
With you and Brady? Not if you had a flying car full of rainbows, chocolate and unicorns. “No, thanks.” I said, trying to give her a grateful smile. “Mr. Stratton took the bus back to Rosewood. We’re going to drive Dave back to Westwood in his car and then we’ll get a ride back to campus from one of the guys.”
She glanced between Chelly and I and looked like she was going to protest when Chelly said, “We can text you when we get back on campus, if you like. We won’t be any longer than is necessary, Dean Haywood.” She leaned in and stage-whispered, “Brooklyn and the guy are kind of dating and she’d like to stay with him to make sure he’s okay.”
WHAT?
I swallowed and risked looking at Brady, realizing quickly it was a mistake. He didn’t look angry, exactly, but there was definitely something going on; his nostrils were flared and his lips were pursed as he stood on his good foot, arms draped over the wooden crutches. He looked ready to spontaneously combust.
“Can you please get the car?” he asked his mother, his voice tight, teeth gritted, not even looking at her. “I’d really like to go home.” I wondered how much pain he was in because although he was always intense and not the kind of guy to waste a lot of words, I couldn’t imagine it was normal for him to be talking to her like that.
Dean Haywood glanced at him, over to me and then nodded at him. “I’ll be out front in a few. Be careful coming out.” Then she turned to me and said in her professional voice. “Please call my office number from your dorm room when you get back on campus and leave a message; I’ll be alerted when you do.”
Smart lady. Though I guess like Robert said, security was a big deal and she was responsible for her students, which of course included Chelly and me, so of course she would make us check in from a campus land line.
“We will,” I assured her.
She looked like she was about done, but then said, “Actually, no. I’m going to call your brother and have him meet you here and he can follow you bac
k to Westwood and bring you home. I’d feel much better about that, as I’m sure would he.”
“That’s not nece...” I started to say, but the dean cut me off with a decisive shake of her head. “It’s not a suggestion, Ms. Prescott.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said.
“What’s going on?” Brady asked when she was gone.
“What happened to you?” I asked at the same time. It about killed me, but determined, I pursed my lips and waited for him to answer first.
He angled himself over one crutch and ran a hand through his hair. “I was careless. I was jumping and lost my stirrup. I went down and the other ankle got caught.”
The reality of his injury suddenly hit me. “The Olympics?” I breathed.
He shrugged casually, but knowing Brady, there was nothing casual about the move. “They said I should heal up fine, but I’m out of training for a while. Obviously.”
His eyes got a little glassy as he turned his head away and my heart broke for him. I remembered back to the day he’d taken me to meet his horse. I’d seen firsthand the bond he had with Albatross and saw for myself just how much the sport meant to him. It probably wasn’t even about the Olympics—it was about the riding. That’s what he was upset about now, though I was sure the Olympic thing would sink in soon enough.
“Is Albatross okay?” I asked.
He nodded. “Fine.”
“That’s good,” I said. I nodded at his leg, hoping to keep the conversation on him. “Does it hurt?”
“They gave me some pills,” he said. And then before I got a chance to say anything else, he followed up with, “So are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
Chelly barked out a laugh and opened her mouth to fill Brady in when I gave her a look like I was going to rip her arms off and shove them down her throat if she didn’t shut her mouth immediately.
Of course, she completely ignored me. “Oh you’ll love this. She made out with Dave and gave him an allergic reaction because she’d just eaten a mountain of shrimp. How hilarious is that? I mean, he’s fine and everything, but still...”
“Yeah, that’s pretty hilarious,” Brady said, not even pretending to smile as he turned from her to me and gave me one of his intense stares that was probably only a few seconds long, but felt like an eternity. It took everything in me not to fidget.
“Look,” he finally said. “I’ve gotta go. Any luck the pills they gave me will help me forget today. All of it.” He gave me a pointed look and then turned and hobbled toward the doors, disappearing through them as they slid open in front of him.
“God, he’s hot,” Chelly said suddenly. “How you don’t have something going on with him, I have no idea. Though I guess the dean has her claws in him...”
“Chelly...” I dropped into one of the chairs and held my face in my hands.
“Not that Dave’s anything to sneeze at. I mean, the allergy thing sucks, but it’s a small price to pay, right? You’ll just have to make sure you get him to carry that needle if you’re going to go whole hog on a seafood buffet while on a date with him.”
I moaned. What have I done?
She didn’t seem to clue in and just kept on talking, even as she sat down beside me. “But I’m thinking you’re going to have to have a chat with Emmie about this.”
I looked over at her. “Yeah, you think?”
She nodded. “Probably a good idea.”
“Thanks,” I said sarcastically.
She smiled and slid her arm across my shoulders. “Aren’t you glad I came?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but then Joan appeared in front of us. “Brooklyn?” she said. “You girls can come on back, if you want.”
Chelly patted my back. “You go. I don’t do well in hospital rooms. I’ll put on ESPN and watch soccer or something.” She looked at Joan and said, deadpan, “I’m a huge sports fan.” Like she knew the difference between a football field and a cricket pitch.
Joan smiled at her. “That’s so nice, dear.”
“Anyway,” Chelly said to me. “Someone has to wait out here for your brother. And I’m really looking forward to meeting him.”
“Right,” I groaned.
She smiled and winked, waving me off as she changed the channel on the television, landing on what looked like a rugby match. “Nice,” she said, settling in on the chair. “I love soccer.”
I rolled my eyes then turned and followed Joan down the hall to go see Dave.
Not Just Some Random Guy
I wasn’t sure what I expected when I walked past Joan into Dave’s hospital room, but I guess I hadn’t expected the monitors and the IVs. Sure, I knew he’d been in a potentially very serious situation, but I guess I kind of figured they would have just given him a couple of Benadryl and maybe one of those shots.
But no, here he was in a bed with an electronic monitor on his finger and wearing one of those stupid polka-dot robes that ties at the back. It was loose around his chest, making me think his wasn’t tied up at all; his collarbones and part of his chest were showing, making me think that if I wasn’t very aware of the fact that I had almost killed him today, I would have been distracted by the view. Determined not to go down that road, I keep my eyes on him from the neck up. Mostly.
The bottom half of Dave’s face was covered up by an oxygen mask, but his eyes crinkled at the corners as I walked to his bedside. At least that was a good sign; I’m not sure what I would have done if he was mad about what had happened.
“Hey,” I said, fighting the urge to take his hand, not wanting to disturb the IV needle. And anyway, it’s not like he really was my boyfriend, even if the doctor thought so. It was way out of line to do the bedside hand-holding thing, especially since we weren’t alone; there was a nurse fiddling with his monitor on the other side of his bed. I wondered if she was hanging around to hear us talk about what had happened. Whatever, I told myself, she had to have heard worse stories than ours.
“Hey,” he said back, his voice muffled through the mask.
I just stared at him, not really sure what to say.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said finally, which was kind of ridiculous since I was the reason he was in the hospital.
“Are you sure?” I had to ask, even though he was smiling.
He nodded. “Positive.”
“Sorry I almost killed you.”
His eyes crinkled up more. “It almost would have been worth it.”
I didn’t believe him, but wasn’t about to argue. If he was saying a kiss from me was basically worth dying for, well, I’d take that compliment. “If you wanted some shrimp, you should have just asked.”
He cocked an eyebrow and then we both laughed, the last of the tension between us disappearing.
I noticed his phone on the bedside table. “Have you heard from your parents?”
“Yeah. Someone got a hold of them. I’m assuming you had something to do with that; if so, thank you.”
I nodded and he continued, “They called and talked to the doctor who calmed them down. They’re far enough away that they’re not coming, thankfully.”
“How are you feeling?”
Dave shrugged, “I’ve had better days.”
I cringed. “Have I mentioned how sorry I am?”
“I’ve had worse days, too,” he said, glancing over at the nurse who was just leaving the room. Once she was gone, he went on. “Anaphylaxis aside, I did like kissing you. Quite a bit.”
Turning away from him to give myself a minute, I grabbed the orange plastic chair from against the wall and dragged it over to the bed, making a big production of sitting down while I thought of something to say.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t,” he said. “Because if you try, I won’t believe you. I was there, remember?”
“You practically attacked me,” I said as indignantly as I could.
“You didn’t stop me. In fact, I remember you grabbing my face and kissing me back.”
Apparently anaphylaxis did
n’t cause memory loss.
“I...” I fidgeted my fingers in my lap. “It wasn’t...” I stalled out, not having a clue where to go from here.
“Give me some credit, Brooklyn. I think I can tell when a girl is into being kissed.”
“Dave,” I whispered, unable to look him in the eye. Because he was right and being reminded of that kiss was making my insides churn.
“Well?”
I sighed. “It’s not that I didn’t like it. Obviously I did. That’s not the thing.”
“Emmie,” he said. “Emmie’s the thing.”
I nodded. “I need to talk to her. And now I have to tell her about this.”
“Do you have to tell her?”
I looked up at him. “She’s going to find out. Anyway, she’s my roommate and my friend. I can’t lie to her. Especially if we’re going to start dating.”
“Are we?”
I took a deep breath and looked back down at my hands. “I don’t know. That’s why I thought we should wait until after Thanksgiving. And I think this,” I swept my hand around the room. “Is the universe telling us we shouldn’t have kissed.”
“I thought you liked me. That kiss was...”
“I do like you, Dave,” I admitted, cutting him off. It felt so weird to say it out loud, especially to him. Though that kiss should have been evidence enough. “It’s just so complicated.”
“Do you want me to talk to her?”
For a fraction of a second, it sounded like a great idea, but I realized that not only was it a chicken’s way out, the Emmie thing was only part of it. “No. It’s not just Emmie. It’s us, too. You and her broke up like five minutes ago and Jared and I, same thing. I don’t want to be your rebound girl and same with you. You don’t want to be my rebound guy, do you?”
He stared at me, not saying anything. He wasn’t convinced.
I exhaled and said, “We need time apart to get our stuff sorted.” I really wished he would get on board because my resolve was about to crack. If he mentioned that kiss again... “The Thanksgiving plan was a good one and I think we should stick with it. Seriously.”
Reading Between the Lines Page 13