Challenge (17 page)

“
I
T’S
T
EQUILA
S
UNRISE TIME
, baby!” Belle hoots, chasing me out the door of the hospital and into the unseasonably warm spring evening. She throws her arm around my shoulder and pulls me to her. “Stop moping now, Indie, darling. We have finished our nine-day stretch and we’re going to Club Taint as planned. We’re going to have a wild time.”

My lip curls. “My own bed sounds better right now.”

“No!” She halts me in my tracks and turns me to face her. “I let you mope these last few days at work, but now you’re done. You’ve earned the respect of the resident staff and most of the attendings. You should be feeling on top of the world after the week you’ve had. We need to celebrate!”

“I know,” I reply with a sigh, even though Prichard has been acting cold toward me ever since we finished Camden’s surgery. I keep trying to convince myself that maybe he wasn’t trying to kiss me in the OR, but his mood shift begs to differ.

“Who cares about that wanker, footballer Camden Harris? He’s probably gay. That’s the only logical conclusion.”

“He’s not gay,” I reply, horrified as the memory of his firmness creeps to the forefront of my mind. I can’t believe I groped him like that.

“Bisexual then. Who cares? He probably wanks off to images of football for God’s sake.” She turns, linking arms with me, and continues walking down the side of the hospital where we have to split off in different directions. “The Penis List is still a solid plan. You won’t convince me otherwise. We’re going to find an even better player tonight. One who’s much less needy. Footballers are dramatic pansies anyway. Let’s go for a rugby player. Or maybe one of those underground fighters. You need a bloke you won’t be inspired to break the rules for and then
get to know him
.” She pierces me with her dark eyes. “This is happening, Indie. We have five days off. Now is our time.”

I exhale at the knowledge that fighting a determined Belle is useless. Deep down, I know she’s right. The whole scene with Camden was horrid. It reminded me of a time in primary school when I explained that the poem
Autumn
by Emily Dickinson wasn’t about the changing of the seasons, but about death and the decline of Christianity. Everyone laughed, even the teacher.

I’ve just always seen things differently and still do. The way he was so aloof and brushing me off outside the hospital after everything we talked in depth about is ridiculous. I can’t let him or anyone revert me back to that guileless, insecure girl ever again. That’s not who I am anymore.

I force a smile and push my black-framed glasses up my nose a bit. “You’re right,” I agree. It’s time to move on from Camden, and I’m ready for a night out with my best mate. “I’m sorry and I promise I won’t let one stupid arsehole spoil our Tequila Sunrise time.”

“Too right!” she sings, breaking away from me to head toward her flat in the opposite direction. Walking backwards she shouts, “Go home. Shower. Shave your wobbly bits…Do whatever you need to do to get tarted up and ready for our night.”

I turn the corner, still watching her retreat and frown when her face falls. “Indie…look out!”

Smack.
I run right into a large hard object. I let out an embarrassingly girlie yelp and hunch over to grab my aching knee. I wince at the searing pain and glare at the metal pedestrian sign. The bastard has a lot of nerve being stuck in the concrete so firmly. As I release a slur of expletives, a pair of helpful warm hands wrap around me from behind.

“Holy fuck,” Belle says. Her voice sounds far away, though.
If they aren’t Belle’s hands on me, then whose are they?

I turn around and find myself in the hands of The Penis Prodigy himself: Camden Harris. The setting London sun is bathing him in golden light, turning him into a beautiful bronze, god-like wonder.

“Are you kidding me?” I groan, looking down to rub my knee.

“Are you all right?” he asks. His deep voice is soft and low, vibrating through my body with concern as he hovers over me with his hands on my back.

I shuffle away from him as he tries to inspect my knee. “I’m fine,” I snipe. “I don’t think I’ll need The Wilson Repair.”

He huffs out a laugh. “If you did, I know a good doctor.”

I hobble over to a nearby bench and silently curse the universe for making me look like such an arse at this particular moment. Camden tries to help me sit, but I reject his assistance. “What are you doing here? Something wrong with your knee?”

“I came to see you.” He looks down at me, shoving a shaky hand through his hair and scratching the back of his neck. “Can we talk?”

I look over and see Belle walking backwards away from us. “I’ll pick you up for the club in two hours!” she sings merrily as if it’s completely normal for a hunky, famous footballer, whom I’ve just operated on, to pry me off a street sign. She gives me a “toodles” sort of wave and I squeeze my knee to stop myself from giving her a wave of my finger.

A rueful smile tugs at Camden’s mouth. “Are you off work tonight?”

I lick my lips slowly. “Yes. Belle and I are off for five days, and it’s sort of a tradition after we work long weeks to go out on our first night.”

“I can understand that.” He sits down beside me, propping the side of his leg on the bench and draping an arm over the back. He smells better than ever.

“Are you doing your therapy I hope?” I ask, eyeing his denim-covered knee and noting how annoyingly hot he looks in dark jeans and a fitted, black T-shirt.

He nods thoughtfully. “Yes. The physical therapist is about as exciting as dry toast, but I feel great during our workouts. Normal even.”

I purse my lips and let go of my knee to sit up straight, mindful not to sit back and brush against his arm. “That’s sort of the point.”

A fleeting look of nerves shadow his eyes before he blurts, “I just started reading my book again.”

I frown. “What book?”

“My Cross novel.”

My face falls.
Fudge.
In my anger, I’d all but forgotten about the note I wrote inside of it.

“I’m guessing by your reaction that note was from you?”

I look away. “That was before.”

“Before what?”

“Before you turned into a prickish footballer who gave me the cold shoulder.”

He deflates and shifts closer to me. “Indie—”

“Don’t,” I cut him off and slide down the bench away from him. “I’m not some baby who needs coddling.”

“I know it. I was the baby,” he replies while running a hand down his thigh. “I saw Dr. Prichard with his hands on you in the OR and I didn’t like it. And I didn’t like that I didn’t like it.”

I actually have to shake the stupor from my brain before I can reply. “The Prichard thing was nothing.”

“Well, I’m not a sharer,” he adds, piercing me with his stunning blue eyes. “Then you left the night before and it all just got to me. A bloke’s ego can only take so much.”

“You’re a professional footballer. Your ego should be bigger than London.”

His lips form a line. “It usually is…but not around you.”

I shoot him an “are you kidding me” expression. Does he really expect me to believe that I have the ability to make him insecure?

“Look, this is my fault. I’m taking full blame here. I just let what Dr. Fuckwad said get to me.” His jawbone ticks with obvious anger.

“Who?”

His eyes narrow. “Dr. Prichard. He made it a point to tell me about your published research on The Wilson Repair and it made me feel like I was being manipulated.”

“Manipulated? How?”

“Well, I started questioning everything after that. Why didn’t you mention it to me before? I’m usually the player, not the playee. It’s not like we didn’t have the chance to discuss it. You slept in my room two nights.”

My jaw drops. “I didn’t think you’d care.”

“What the hell does that mean?” He looks offended as his jaw muscle ticks violently.

“Nothing! I didn’t mention it because it didn’t occur to me. I don’t seem to make the best choices when I’m around you, Camden. I have a bit of a one-track mind when you do that glittery eye thing to me. But fine, let’s air it all out,” I bark, feeling as if I’m on a roll now. “Yes, I have a heavy interest in your surgery. I have a heavy interest in ortho. It’s what I’ve chosen to focus on. I don’t have any reason to hide that. I probably didn’t tell you because—” I pause and he urges me on. “Because I was embarrassed by my behaviour. What happened to you was the surgical opportunity of a lifetime. It was great for my career, yet I was risking it all by getting involved with you. I didn’t want you to look at me as if I was a silly little girl with half a brain. I don’t like feeling as if I’m being run by my hormones.”

He jeers, “I wouldn’t have thought that.”

“Well, what I did was unethical and I still don’t know exactly why I did it.”

“Could it be because you want to fuck me?” He slides closer to me. His vulgar word mixed with his scent of soap makes my mouth water.

I scoff at how he’s managed to simplify a whole slew of personal and ethical issues into one stupid sentence. “No, definitely not.”

“Maybe it’s my glittery eye thing you mentioned?” He’s doing an absolute horrid job of hiding his smirk.

“God, you’re an arse.” My shield drops like the adulterous Brutus it is. How does he make me lose myself so quickly?

“Indie,” he whispers, leaning in. His close proximity confounds my mind so much that I want to fall into his warm, manly embrace. Somehow, I manage to resist…but just barely. “I was a wounded, egotistical jerk. But that was temporary. Your note cured me. I’m sorry for being jealous and brushing you off.” The feel of his breath tickles as he inhales over the skin exposed along my neck. “It’s okay to want me.”

“No, it’s not. You suck.” My voice is raspy, which makes me roll my eyes. “Did you even get what my pun meant?”

“Yeah, you’re considering becoming a juggler of testicles after you finish this whole doctor phase.” His face is expressionless and, like a silly girl, I smile.

I turn to shove him away. “You don’t deserve my pun.” He catches my hand and holds it against his chest. I nervously look around to confirm that no one is watching us. I shouldn’t be touching him. I should be pulling my hand away from him and act halfway professional. But then I feel the ridges of muscle beneath the soft cotton of his T-shirt and the pounding of his heart as he clutches my hand. I take a quick guess that it’s beating around 80 bpm, which is fast for a resting state athlete. His eyes sparkle with so much desire, and the danger of the whole scene makes it impossible for me to look away.

“You’re scared,” he says. “But why?”

Embarrassment forces me to look down. “I’ve never made men a priority in my life. I’m not like this. I don’t sleep with patients and jeopardise all that I’ve worked for.”

“It looked to me like you were just living a little.” He releases my hand. “And I’m sorry if I was pressuring you too much.”

The remorseful look on his face gives me pause. “You didn’t force me to do anything I didn’t want to do. Just…this place,” I say, gesturing to the hospital behind me. “I’m normally a different person in that building. I don’t
live
my life in there. I
save
lives in there.”

“I completely understand.” He stands up and shoves his hands in his pockets as if he’s getting ready to leave.

“Okaaay?” I ask as he looks at me expectantly.

“How about I escort you home and we get to know each other away from the hospital.” He winks and gestures for me to follow him. “Let’s have a do-over, Specs.”

I couldn’t say no. I didn’t want to say no. It wasn’t because he’s hot or charming, or because he apologised profusely, or because I still want him to be Penis Number One. It’s because I’m genuinely curious about him. I get a sense that there’s a lot more to Camden than what he shows on the surface. He feels like a brand new textbook just waiting to be read, and God I love textbooks.

“I don’t live far,” I say as we make our way down the sidewalk and away from the glow of the hospital. A weight lifts off my shoulders when I can no longer see it behind me.

Camden squints as a thought strikes him. “You sleep at the hospital, though.” He looks at me curiously. “Even though you live so close?”