by Anthology
I put my keys into my pocket, hoping to steal at least a few minutes of conversation with Amie. Since her boyfriend- or judging by the rock on her finger maybe he’s her fiancé now- moved in we haven’t hung out like we used to.
“Have you heard the new Panic! album?” she asks, her eyes holding a glint of excitement. That’s one of the things I’ve always loved about Amie, she has a way of getting excited about things that makes you unable to resist getting excited as well.
“Of course,” I roll my eyes in mock offense. Like I wouldn’t have immediately downloaded a new Panic! At the Disco album. “Favorite song on three,” I challenge.
“Victorious,” we both say at the same time. Amie holds her hand up for a high five and I’m happy to oblige.
We launch into a discussion about all of the best and worst songs on the album.
“Oh damn, look at the time. I’d better get going, I’ll talk to you later,” she says after what feels like only a few minutes of talking. I look at the time on my phone and realize we’ve been talking for over an hour.
We say goodbye and I head into my apartment. The first thing I find is my girlfriend standing in the entryway with her arms crossed, a scowl on her face.
“Hey babe, what’s up?” I ask in a would be casual tone.
“You tell me,” Kristie challenges. “I told you we had a reservation for dinner, to celebrate our anniversary. But, we’ve missed it now because you’ve been out in the hallway with her for over an hour.”
I open my mouth and then close it again. I don’t really have an excuse, other than I completely forgot it was our anniversary. Could I be a worse boyfriend?
“Tell me you’re not in love with her.”
Again I open and close my mouth several times, no words coming out.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Kristie says with a sad resignation in her voice. “I’m gonna go. I’ll come pick up my stuff when you’re on your next shift, that’ll be easier for me. Bye, Parker.”
Kristie gives me a peck on the cheek and then skirts past me to the door. Part of my brain is telling me to call her back, tell her I want her to stay. She pauses at the door and I know if I just tell her I love her she’ll stay. But I remain silent and watch her leave.
I drag myself out of my reverie and my ass off the couch, not bothering to put on a shirt, and head for the door.
My mouth falls open when I find Amie standing on the other side of the door instead of Dawson. Her hair is wet like she just got out of the shower, and she’s wearing only an oversized t-shirt. My dick immediately sits up and takes notice. And, the sweatpants I’m wearing makes concealing my reaction to her difficult.
“What’s up?” I ask, doing my best to sound casual.
“My shower is going crazy. I tried calling the super but I had to leave a voicemail. My bathroom is about to flood. Can you please help?”
“Uh, yeah, let me grab my tool box.”
I turn and grab my heavy, metal toolbox from the hall closet and follow Amie to her apartment, doing my best not to wonder if she’s naked under that t-shirt.
In her bathroom the shower head is spewing angrily so I pull out a crescent wrench and set to work.
WHAT IS IT about a muscular, shirtless man fixing things that makes you want to break everything you own?
It probably doesn’t help that I’m basically naked and I’ve always had a tiny (see enormous) crush on my sexy neighbor.
“I think that should do it, at least for now,” he says as the water finally stops erupting from my faucet like Ole Faithful.
“Thank you so much,” I say, reluctantly handing him a towel so he can dry himself off.
“No problem. Nate couldn’t manage?”
I try not to wince at the mention of Nate.
“Funny thing about that…” I look down at the puddles on the bathroom floor to avoid looking into Parker’s deep brown eyes.
“What, is he out of town or something?”
I laugh without humor.
“We broke up.”
“What’d the dumb fucker do to lose the best thing that’ll ever happen to him?”
I roll my eyes and force a smile. The thought hits me for the first time that no one is going to want me now. People don’t like to think about death and dying. I’m not going tomorrow or anything, but obviously it was too soon for Nate. Why would anyone else feel any differently? I can’t have kids anymore and the sands of my hourglass are filtering quickly downward. I literally have nothing to offer a man.
“It’s a long story,” I finally answer, waving my hand like it’s no big deal. “By the way, I’m sorry about last night. I’ve had a rough couple of weeks. I shouldn’t have acted like a dick when you were just trying to say ‘hi’.”
“It’s cool. We haven’t hung out in ages. You up for some pizza and a horror movie?”
My stomach dips. One thing most people don’t realize about being in kidney failure is that the diet restrictions seriously suck. I can’t have any alcohol, very limited protein, basically no sodium. I can have plain lettuce, that’s pretty much it at this point.
Fuck it, I’ve had a rough enough few weeks as it is. Bring on the motherfucking pizza.
“Sounds great. I’ll order the pizza; you pick the movie.”
Parker beams and my stomach flutters.
“Cool. Maybe we should both get on some clothes first though?” There’s a hint of hopefulness in his voice that maybe I’ll disagree. As my eyes roam down his damp sweatpants, hanging low on his hips, showing off every inch of his carved abs I’m tempted to suggest we make this a naked movie night.
I’m dying dammit. Don’t I deserve to slut it up a bit?
“I kind of like that you’re actually thinking about how to answer that.” Parker laughs before putting his wrench back in his toolbox and heading for my front door.
“I’ll be back in five minutes. Get some pants on and order that pizza.”
“Ooh, bossy,” I singsong.
“That’s right, you don’t want to find out what’ll happen if you disobey.” He shoots me a playful wink before disappearing out the door.
I grab my phone and order an extra-large Hawaiian pizza online and then I run to my bedroom to pull on some comfy but cute, clothes. I quickly down my handful of nightly pills I need to take as well so I don’t have to worry about it later.
When I make it back to the living room I find Parker in a fresh pair of track pants and a black t-shirt stretched tight over his chest.
I never realized how physically fit firefighters were before I met Parker. I mean, it makes total sense. But there’s a difference between knowing someone is likely fit, and feeling their hard muscles against your body when they pull you in for a friendly hug. Muscles aside Parker is drool worthy. His chocolate eyes are nearly impossible not to get lost in, his strong jaw belongs in a Superman comic, and his messy dark hair looks like you could lose a hand in it.
When we first met, the day I moved in, I’d gotten the vibe he might be interested in me. But since then he’s always kept things strictly platonic, although he is an incurable flirt.
“Oh come on, those pants aren’t even fair. Now you’re just teasing.” He eyes my ass, and biting his bottom lip in an exaggerated gesture.
“Oh please,” I giggle, trying to pretend I don’t love the attention.
“Come on, get that fine ass over here. I’ve got Insidious.”
“Noooo, that one’s too scary,” I complain.
“Lucky for you, you’ve got a big strong man here to protect you.”
That I do.
FUCK I’D MISSED this while she was dating Nate. God he’s an idiot for letting her go, but his loss is my gain.
Amie grips my arm and buries her face against my chest. God bless whoever made horror movies. I chuckle and rub her back reassuringly.
“Is that scary demon gone?”
“Yeah babe, it’s gone.”
She peeks one eye open cautiously.
&n
bsp; Dawson was right when Amie first moved in, it would’ve been a mistake to pursue her then. But, goddamn this crush hasn’t eased in three years. And now that she’s single I’ve got to take a shot. Over my dead body am I going to be introduced to a new boyfriend.
I’ll give her time to get over the break up. But she’s mine dammit.
“You want the last slice of pizza?” I offer.
“Nah, you go ahead, I’m stuffed.”
I snag the last one and then lean back again, throwing my arm over her shoulder. She nestles against me and I’m in fucking heaven.
MY STOMACH CLENCHES and my throat burns as I heave into the waste basket beside my desk. Once my stomach is not only empty of its contents as well as a large amount of bile, I lean back in my chair and grab a tissue to wipe my mouth. Apparently the kidney diet is more than just a suggestion. And apparently the consequences are feeling severely hungover. It was just a fucking pizza.
I let out a long breath before searching for my water bottle to take some small, slow sips desperate not to set off another round of vomiting.
“How are you feeling, doc?” My technician Tricia comes into my office eyeing me with worry. Maybe she heard me puking or maybe she’s just worried about me.
“Never felt better. In fact, I might go run a marathon,” I deadpan.
Tricia gives me a pitying smile and I try not to cringe. I hate that look. The last thing I need is pity.
“What do we have on the docket this morning?” I ask, pulling out my notebook and pen in case I need to take notes.
“Ron is going to be here in a few minutes to talk to you about one of the giraffes he thinks might have an eye infection. You also need to recheck the sutures on the Fennec fox, preg check the panda, and we’re supposed to do a dental cleaning on mama tiger.”
I nod and steel myself for a busy day. Excitement zings through me and I smile. Being a veterinarian for a small zoo isn’t a walk in the park, but I can honestly say I love every second of it. This has been my dream job since I came out of the womb and I worked my ass off to get here. And now that I’m here I’m not going to take one second of it for granted.
“Bring it on.” I fist pump the air dramatically. Tricia joins in punching the air and dancing around me as we both laugh. This has been our start of day routine since I started here last year, sometimes we throw in a little twerking for good measure.
Ron, the lead zookeeper walks in and stops in his tracks, eyeing us both with amusement before we all get down to the business of the day.
WHEN PEOPLE ASK me what I do as a zoo vet, they typically cringe when I tell them I spend half my time with my hands in tiger’s mouths and camel’s asses. I wouldn’t have it any other way though. I’m currently doing the former of the two. The tiger has been given a respectable dose of a combination of ketamine, dexdomitor, and midazolam and is snoozing happily as I asses the fractured teeth and scraping the subgingival plaque.
“Whoa, doc, don’t forget your mask. You don’t want bacterial pneumonia, do you?” Tricia chastises. I roll my eyes, technically you can get bacterial pneumonia doing a dental cleaning, but come on that never really happens. Just to prove a point I scale the teeth for a few more minutes before I finally reach for a mask to secure over my mouth and nose.
“So stubborn,” Tricia laughs, shaking her head at me.
“Just one of my many lovable qualities.”
WHEN I SLIDE into my car at the end of the day I glare at the worn fabric of the seats. I’m going to tell you a little secret about being a veterinarian...we get paid jack shit. Add on top of that over two hundred grand in student loans and you’ll understand why I drive a ten-year-old car that barely made it through the winter.
A heavy feeling settles in my chest. Now on top of my student loans I’ve got some hefty medical bills, and the promise of more to come. Not that I’ll live long enough to see any of it paid off. A laugh bubbles out of my chest as a morbid amusement settles over me. I’m NEVER going to pay off my debts. I’m not even going to come close to paying off all the money I owe. And I don’t have any family that bill collectors could come after once I’m dead.
As my car rattles down the road I spot a car dealership with a line of motorcycles near the entrance. I’ve always wanted a motorcycle, and I fucking deserve a new car. Without allowing myself a second thought I pull into the dealership with a smile on my face.
I’M DEAD TIRED when I pull into the parking lot of my apartment building after my 48-hour shift at work. It’s not like you actually work for 48 hours straight, but I have to be at the station the whole time to be ready for any emergency calls. And I sleep for shit in those damn cots we’ve got there. I usually spend a majority of the time either using the gym equipment or watching movies with the other guys. When I’m not saving lives and fighting fires of course.
I hop out of my truck and pause at the sight of a brand new red Mustang convertible in Amie’s parking spot instead of her ten-year-old rust bucket Toyota. My fists clench involuntarily at my sides. It’s only been two days since we hung out. She couldn’t already be seeing someone, could she? Is it possible that Nate is back and this is his new car? But then where is Amie’s car?
I jog up the stairs to my floor and then pause outside Amie’s door. Will it be weird if I check in on her? All right, I’m really trying to check if she’s alone, but she doesn’t have to know that.
I force myself to put on a cool facade before I knock.
When Amie opens her door a few seconds later she looks pale and tired like she did when she came home the other day. My eyes travel down and I notice she’s clearly dressed for bed in nothing but a thin white tank top and a pair of pink pajama shorts. I have no hope of preventing the erection that her mile-long legs inspire. What I wouldn’t give to lift her up, have her wrap her legs around me as I press her into the wall and kiss her senseless.
She licks her lips and I bite back a groan. Then, she gives me a curious smile. Shit, I’ve been standing here staring at her like a creep and not saying anything for way too long. I clear my throat and force my gaze to remain trained on her face.
“Hey, just got home from my shift. I wanted to see if you wanted to grab something to eat?”
“Parker, you look dead on your feet. Why don’t you come in, and I’ll feed you a sandwich or something?” she offers. I do an internal fist pump. She must be alone if she’s inviting me in. So then who owns the sweet ride?
I nod and follow her into her apartment, closing the door behind me.
“Did you see my new car?” She asks as I slide into a chair at her kitchen table, and she begins pulling sandwich ingredients out of her fridge.
“Yeah. You seriously bought a brand new Mustang? That must’ve cost a fortune.”
Amie shrugs and avoids eye contact. How the hell did she even afford that car? She’s always complaining about how little she makes compared to how much she owes in student loans.
“Guess what else I bought,” she beams as she sets a plate with a sandwich and some fruit in front of me.
“Ugh, a private jet?” I guess sarcastically. She gives my shoulder a playful shove before sitting down at the table next to me and immediately swiping a strawberry off my plate. I’m mesmerized by the way her lips wrap around the fruit.
“I got a motorcycle.”
“What?” I bark. Every protective instinct I have is suddenly in overdrive. I mean, I’ve taken Amie on my Ducati, but only after I made sure she was wearing my leather jacket and a properly fitted helmet. I also made sure to drive as carefully as possible. She’s never driven a motorcycle. My heart is racing as images of the horrible motorcycle accidents I’ve been called to the scene of fill my mind.
“Why are you scowling like that? You have a motorcycle.”
“We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. Motorcycles are too dangerous. You don’t even know how to drive one.”
“That’s why I’m going to take a class and get my motorcycle license.”
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“I don’t like it. It’s too dangerous. You’re going to end up killing yourself.”
Amie tenses at my words before a flicker of resignation passes over her emerald eyes.
“Well, we’ve all gotta go sometime,” she responds flippantly.
My fists clench and it takes everything in me not to throw her over my shoulder to take her somewhere I can lock her up and protect her forever.
“Over my dead body are you dying on my watch. You’ll take the classes, and then I’m going to teach you to ride until I’m satisfied you know what you’re doing.”
“Oh yeah, and what are you going to do if I don’t agree to your terms?” Amie taunts, the anger in her eyes giving way to a playful gleam.
“First I’m going to spank that hot ass of yours. Then I’m going to call in a favor and get your motorcycle impounded until you agree to do things my way.”
A slight blush creeps into her cheeks making me wonder if she isn’t picturing the first part of my threat as thoroughly as I am. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a BDSM guy, but there’s nothing like spanking a nice ass red before you pound into a woman from behind.
Amie clears her throat and then grabs my now empty plate from in front of me.
“Fine, you can teach me,” she concedes.
Damn shame, that spanking would’ve been fun.
“Good.” I nod sternly. “Now I’m beat so I’m going to head home and crash. Thanks for dinner.”
“Anytime. Thanks for caring about my safety,” she says, walking me to the door.
“Anytime,” I say before brushing a quick kiss against her cheek. Her skin is just as soft as I thought it’d be. My chest aches with the longing to pull her into my arms and press my lips to hers. Soon, I remind myself. Soon.
THE BUZZING OF my cellphone pulls me from a fitful sleep. I glance at the clock. It’s nine in the morning on a Saturday. Who the hell is calling me this early?
I grab the phone and see the name Billie flash across the screen. I squeal with delight and immediately hit ‘answer’.