Page 42 of Seen
“Um…sorry.” Abruptly, I rise from my seat, blundering past the person positioned to my right. “Sorry, I’m feeling a little?—“
My vision swims, even more than usual. Cold sweat slicks my hands. Derek makes to follow me, but I bat him away. I can’t breathe. I can’t focus. I need out, out of that room and out of my skin. As I hit the pavement, I’m practically sprinting.
Hah! There’s no future in optimism. I’ll never become someone else’s feel-good story. Nor do I want a chirpy guy in a polo shirt every colour of the rainbow telling me neat tricks on navigating fucking bus routes or chopping vegetables without including my thumb in the mix. Nor do I need a smug evangelist describing the view from the top of Kilimanjaro—that she’s never fuckingseen—then ordering me to count my blessings.
I don’t want any of this shit. I want my fucking eyes to work.
I want Luke.
Where are you?
Every chance I get, I check my phone screen. It’s nine p.m. Not late, but not too early to sink three strong whiskeys either. I don’t even like fucking whiskey, and we have a policy: staff don’t ever drink more than one or two weak beers on the job. Ez and I lead by example. But no way could I have made it through the five o’clock post-work rush sober.
Luke shouldbehere by now. I desperately need him. I need to swear about wanky Derek and sunny Alice, about Ezra’s amazing plans for the bar I can’t keep up with, about public toilets and how I don’t want to become that visually impaired person with piss all over my shoes and friends too polite to point it out.
I check the door, then check my phone again. He said he’d tell me if anything was wrong. Is Luke having second thoughts? I pretended to be unbothered he didn’t come over during the weekend when I was working double shifts here at the bar, but part of me can’t help taking it as a personal affront. Am I reading too much into everything? Am I being side-lined before we’ve even started?
Alaric wanders over for a chat.
“Why is Luke not here?” I glare at the door as if the strength of my gaze will force him to walk through it. “He’s normally here by now.”
Alaric frowns. “Did he say he was coming tonight?”
“Yes!”I’ll try to make it.What the fuck else could be more important? “I want him here.”
“Relax, bro.” Alaric’s lips twitch. “Why so needy all of a sudden? No one’s taking him from you.”
“I’ve called him and texted him, like, fifteen times, and he hasn’t texted back. Some of my messages are on read. What’s that about?”
“Chill. He’ll turn up. Maybe his fingers ache too much after a day spent rubbing steroid cream on other people’s zits.”
“His fingers worked just fine around my cock at the weekend. But tonight they can’t text me back?”
Alaric shrugs. “I don’t know—maybe he’s gone swimming. He does that quite often after work.”
“Not for four hours, mate! Did you see him at the hospital today?”
“Yes, we hung out for about three minutes.”
“Did he seem normal to you? What was he like?” My foot taps out an agitated rhythm, not anywhere near approximating the rhythm of the song currently thrumming through the speakers.
Alaric shrugs again. “Okay, I think? Maybe a bit quiet? But he’s always quiet. And I was kind of fucking busy, Neil. So was he. It’s the NHS. We have patients and responsibilities and lives to save.”
Only one life matters to me right now. The bigger question is—does mine matter to him?
And why am I suddenly so fucking insecure?
“Did he mention me?”Please say yes.
“Um…no? We talked about the patient with lupus he’d just examined and whether I’d been locked out of the X-ray database because the shitty computers were playing up again. Then I bitched about my boss. Luke was diplomatic about his, as always, and then I buggered off to the operating theatre.” Alaric wrinkles his brow. “Hey, did you say Luke had his hand on your cock?”
I’ve gone before giving Alaric an answer.
CHAPTER 17
LUKE
Where are you? Alaric doesn’t know. Isaac doesn’t know. I thought you were coming over.Is something wrong? Have I done something wrong?
