First Love, Take Two

I sat in the parking lot of my new apartment building, glaring up at the bedroom window. The lights were on, the shades closed.

The lights flickered off and I dragged myself out of the car. I’d been out all day, from studying to Reema’s place to mandir to the taco truck. I’d had one too many horchata refills and needed to pee. So up I went, all the while silently praying that Daniel was asleep. Somewhere. I would take whichever room he didn’t want.

I studied the front door for several long minutes before quietly opening it. The lights were off but the gentle green and red glow of plugged-in electronics in the living room showed that the bedroom door was ajar. A corner of the throw blanket sat on top of the couch. An arm dangled off one end. Daniel must’ve decided to take the couch. Oh, thank the lord.

I hopped on one foot, then the other, trying to get my shoes off in the near dark so as not to disturb him, and also to avoid him. My shoes thudded against the wood floor of the foyer and I bit my lip, freezing like a statue. Maybe if I didn’t move, he wouldn’t notice me?

Daniel didn’t stir.

I walked in the dark and stubbed my big toe against that idiotic corner beneath the kitchen bar counter.

“Ah!” I muffled my cry and cursed the pain throbbing up my foot.

My backpack knocked over something near the edge of the bar. “Oops!” I gasped.

Ugh. This wasn’t working and every second weighed down on my bladder like a boulder. I was ready to pee in my pants. I was literally waddling with my knees glued together.

Daniel sat up, his head and shoulders popping up from over the couch.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice gravelly and doing all sorts of weird, glorious things to my belly. You could hear the sleep deprivation in it, though. Poor thing.

“Oh! Yeah!” I called back and ran to the bathroom before my bladder burst. I was not going to get a UTI today!

Oh, but what sweet, sweet relief. I sat in that blissful state of having emptied out a bladder so full it had become painful.

I took my time, washed my hands and face, brushed my teeth. I scraped my tongue and flossed and put on night cream. Then I studied my reflection and plucked all the stray hairs. Then I sat on the edge of the bathtub and cut my toenails.

Let’s see. What else can I do in here?

Twenty minutes must’ve elapsed. Daniel had to be asleep by now.

I turned off the bathroom lights and closed my eyes, regulating my breathing and getting used to the dark again so I could make a quick move to the bedroom.

But when I opened the door, the living room lamp was on and the apartment was aglow. Daniel had his butt against the back of the couch and his arms crossed, waiting for me. He’d been staring at the carpet and dragged his gaze up to meet mine.

I gulped. He had that look in his eyes, the one that said we needed to talk.

Seconds crept by. He waited. Quietly. I stood immobile like a child about to get scolded.

“Sorry to wake you,” I muttered and went to the bedroom.

“Are you avoiding me that hard?” he asked in a level tone. “Come on, Pree. Let’s not do this, not for three weeks.”

“Okay. I think we should stay out of each other’s way, though,” I said in a small voice, still facing the door and glaring into the darkness of the bedroom. Because that was a lie. I didn’t want to avoid him. I didn’t want to throw away my last few days of being around him. But seeing him made me want to be near him. Being near him made me want to touch him. Touching him made me want to be with him forever. And that simply wasn’t possible.

“You really can’t stand me? Not even long enough to tell me the truth?” he asked with an unexpected sharpness to his tone.

A deafening silence clenched around us. The sounds of soft footfalls and a light breeze hitting my back let me know that Daniel stood behind me. I could smell his cinnamon-and-rain scent and feel the heat of his body.

“You really don’t want anything to do with me? Damn,” he said harshly.

I clamped my eyes tight, anxiety building and bubbling in my head, ripping apart my chest. “It’s not that at all.”

He scoffed. “Whatever. Go to sleep. I’ll be happy with us staying out of each other’s way. You’re pretty much a pro at evading me anyway.”

“Daniel…” I turned to him, and suddenly our faces were inches apart. He towered over me, inciting a confusing mix of feeling protected by his closeness and the fear of talking to him. I wanted to reach out and run my hand down his arm, take his hand, sit with him, and spill all the guilt I’d been trapping inside me for six years.

The words choked themselves out at the back of my throat.

“I don’t want excuses,” he said, his voice a bit softer but his brows furrowed, serious, unyielding. “We’re going to talk before three weeks are up.”

He went to the couch, dropped onto the cushions, switched off the lamp, and covered himself with the blanket. His unbelieving grunt echoed in the room.

My stomach dropped, followed by nausea. All that horchata was about to come back up. I didn’t know what I’d expected. Of course he was going to be upset. Of course he was going to get answers. It was the entire reason he’d agreed to stay here.

My body trembled. My lips quivered. My heart splintered. I wanted to lock myself in my room and cry. Instead, I closed the bedroom door behind me and turned on my calming app, filling the room with sounds Daniel himself had recommended to soothe me.

Anxiety inched closer and closer. I closed my eyes tight, gripped the sheets in my fists, and tried to find a calm that never came.

*  *  *

Morning approached. Having a top-floor apartment with a bedroom window allowed lots of warm sunlight to filter through partially opened blinds. The light, and sleeping on edge, awoke me before my alarm had a chance to go off.

I should go to the apartment gym. A treadmill run would relieve some stress and wake me up after a dreadful night of half sleep. Maybe even some weights? But then my stomach grumbled, loudly. Really? After all those chicken tinga gorditas last night? There was a small amount of leftovers and a lot of dessert from Grandma Thompson in the fridge. Pie sounded like the breakfast of champions anyway.

But when I opened the bedroom door, the deep aroma of coffee percolated through the air and woke me all the way up. Daniel was not only awake this early in the morning, but he was in the kitchen cooking. He had his back turned to me as he quietly worked around the stove, surrounded by the sounds of coffee dripping and butter sizzling on a skillet. A snug T-shirt stretched over the expanse of his back, leaving little to the imagination as muscles contracted and released with every move. Not to mention the, um, very well-fitting sweatpants.

I whipped my head toward the bathroom and went through my morning routine before my brain started mentally undressing him. I couldn’t even brush my teeth without stabbing myself in the gums.

Cleaned and minty fresh, I contemplated how I could evade Daniel. Perhaps slip out the front door while he fished for something in the fridge and wasn’t looking?

Daniel glanced up from the kitchen sink when I emerged. His gaze penetrated right through to my bones with the type of stoicism his father possessed. There was no reading him until his gaze slipped down the length of my body in a blink. My pajama pants were old and faded, and the thin top wrinkled from all the tossing last night.

I wriggled my toes into the carpet and offered a slight smile. Anything bigger would be fake. Anything less was harsh. “Hi.”

He pulled up a piece of toast and buttered it. “Morning.”

I made it to the bedroom door, eager to get dressed and hurry out, when he said, “Listen. I’m sorry about—”

“Don’t be,” I interjected, facing him. “I really didn’t mean to upset you last night. It’s just…awkward being around you after all this time.”

“So you don’t know how to act?” He slid a rubber spatula between eggs and the skillet and gently folded them. There was a real technique to fluffy scrambled eggs.

“No,” I said bluntly and shrugged. “I don’t know how to act around you. But I’ll try to be normal and considerate and stay out of your way so you can work and relax when you get home. No apologies necessary. It’s really on me.”

He quirked a brow as he plated the eggs. “I was actually apologizing for taking up the bathroom when I know that you have to get to work.”

“Oh.” Right. Right. I nervously tugged on the hem of my shirt. “Well, no apologies needed for that, either. You were out before I got up anyway. I should get ready for work.”

I changed into slacks and a blouse, dabbed on a layer of tinted SPF cream on my face, tied my hair back into a low ponytail, lugged my backpack full of necessary daily items, and carried my trusty pair of comfy loafers to the foyer.

When I set my tumbler on the counter, Daniel said, “Wait.”

I sighed, my shoulders slumping, my words coming out rushed. “Listen. I know you want to talk. And I will tell you the ugly truth about why I left. But not right now. Okay? Please. I have to get to work and focus.”

His lips twisted, his eyes squinted. “Okay. I was just going to offer you a breakfast sandwich to go.”

“Oh,” I mumbled, heat rising up my neck. “Thanks.”

Without a word, he laid down a buttered-to-death piece of toast on a sheet of foil; added a slice of smoked Gouda cheese; topped it with fluffy and lightly seasoned eggs, a dollop of salsa, a sprinkling of cilantro, and a layer of baby spinach and arugula; and finished off with another slice of toast. Because of the many times he’d cooked for me in the past, I knew that the cheese at the bottom and the greens at the top acted as barriers to prevent sogginess, and a nice, firm wrap in the foil would keep it from getting cold or spilling over when I took a bite.

He slid a plastic container toward me as well. “Leftovers from Grandpa for your lunch.”

“Thank you,” I said, dumbfounded. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“As opposed to…?”

“Being angry.”

He scoffed. “Oh, I’m angry as hell, Pree. I thought I was fine seeing you, since it’s been six years, but no. Leaving the way you did when I loved—” He paused and swallowed, letting out a rough breath. “But I’m also not an ass. If you’re stuck in this apartment with me for a few weeks, then you don’t have a lot of places to run off to. Just like this bread, I’m going to butter you up and get answers.” He leaned his forearms on the counter and glared at me. Then he glanced at the tumbler in my hands, took it, and filled it with a precise mix of coffee and heavy cream, no sugar. “Still like your coffee this way?”

“Y-yes.”

I quickly slipped into my loafers, pulled my backpack over both shoulders, and balanced my keys, the tumbler, and a bag with my breakfast and lunch. “I have to go to my parents’ house after work. Feel free to do whatever you want around here.”

“Running, huh?”

We looked at each other and lingered. I inhaled a deep breath like I might say something long-winded and defensive. Instead, I pivoted on my heels, opened the door, and called back dryly, “Have a good day, then.”

“Yep.”

*  *  *

I swiped across my work tablet at the counter of the nurses’ station, shifting from one foot to another. A little more charting and I could head to the clinic to see patients.

“Who is that?” Olivia, another resident, asked on her way toward me.

I looked down the hall and did a double take, almost dropping my tablet. The CEO of the hospital strolled down the hallway with none other than Daniel freaking Thompson.

“Fine as hell,” she added.

Well, that definitely got everyone’s attention. I hadn’t realized there were two other residents and a scrub tech around the door to the second, more private, computer station behind the wall. In a matter of ten seconds, every staffer in the vicinity was peering around the counter to take a gander.

The CEO waved a hand here and there as he spoke. Daniel took notes, keeping up with a purposeful pace. Both men wore the heck out of tailored blue slacks and button-down shirts. The CEO had a jacket, while Daniel had only a dress shirt and tie. A light brown belt and matching shoes added the right amount of pop.

How did he do that? Take something as everyday as dress clothes and wear it like a model, all color-coordinated and on point? Daniel knew how to turn heads, but he probably didn’t realize he was even doing so.

He happened to glance up as they walked past, adding, “Ladies,” with a nod and a smile. His gaze faltered when it landed on me, but only for the briefest of seconds, and then he moved on.

I stared at him, shocked, my stylus frozen over my tablet. All my eloquently phrased, detailed notes suddenly vanished from my mind. I loved my workplace, and one second ago, it had been my reprieve where personal drama didn’t follow. Having Daniel living in the same apartment was bad enough; the last place I expected to see him was at the hospital.

The CEO was talking about structure and budget, which led me to believe that Daniel, or his father’s company, was spearheading a new development.

I didn’t snap out of my stupor until they had passed.

Olivia, who happened to be pursuing the same in-clinic position as myself, leaned back to check out the men.

Olivia commented, “That ass, though.”

Yep. The truth was that Daniel could ruin entire civilizations.

“And big feet…” another resident added. “You know what they say about men with big feet.”

Flushed, I whipped my head back to my tablet, trying to recall my notes from the procedure I’d just emerged from.

“Oh, Doctor. Never seen you flustered,” the nurse said.

I spoke in my stern, authoritative physician’s voice. “It’s inappropriate to speak about someone that way. You know better.” I looked at my colleagues. “You guys, too. We can get into so much trouble.”

“Would love to see more of him.” Olivia waggled her brows. One couldn’t blame her, and yet the fact that she was ogling my ex tripped a nerve. Jealousy, was that you?

When the men reached the end of the hall, they turned to walk back past us. This time, Daniel looked directly at me as he approached. “Preeti.”

“Hi,” I said, fully aware of the women around me blinking with a hundred silent questions.

“Ah,” the CEO said to the unit secretary and then spoke to all of us, probably because he obviously didn’t know who was in charge. “I believe the department manager informed you that we would be by to look at the OR. Could we get the necessary items to go back there?”

The unit secretary jumped up. “Everything is in the locker room. You can use the disposable yellow gowns if you don’t want to change into scrubs. Booties and bonnets are in a bin beside the scrubs rack. I can show you to the locker room.”

As soon as they disappeared through the hall behind the nurses’ station, the residents and nurse let out a collective sigh and bombarded me with questions.

“How do you know him?”

“Are you two dating?”

“Have you hooked up?”

“Who is that?”

“How did you meet?”

“Does he have a brother?”

“Can you introduce me?”

I rolled my eyes. No, Olivia, I’m not going to introduce you to my ex so you can pounce on him. Although Olivia, with her gorgeous frizz-free hair, amazing posture, and extroverted charm, didn’t need any help from me.

“No,” I said firmly. I tucked my tablet to my chest and marched off.

But I had to go in the direction of the locker rooms to get my stuff. If I hurried, I could get in and out before Daniel emerged. Unfortunately, I wasn’t that fast, or maybe he was too fast.

I halted with my backpack over one shoulder just outside the women’s locker room, directly across the hall from the men’s, with the surgical area several feet to the left. He waited by the double doors to the OR. He’d opted for the disposable gown that went over his clothes.

“You look like a yellow bunny,” I said, snickering.

“I was going for the doctor look, so yeah, don’t start.” He looked down at all the yellow.

“Oh, you have to cover the sideburns, too.” Having had it drilled into me that all hair must be covered when going past the red lines of surgical areas, I approached Daniel and covered his ears and short sideburns, brushing my fingers against his warm skin in the process. My fingertips tingled, yearning to press against his cheek, to wander across his sharp jaw to those lips. Instead, I stepped back and resisted the urge.

Touching people was a complicated thing for me, sometimes okay, sometimes not my preference. But touching Daniel was as natural as breathing. I didn’t have to think about doing it, only about refraining from it.

Worse than that was the fact that he leaned into my touch. His features softened, as if, maybe, he wasn’t as pissed as he seemed to be.

“Thanks.”

“And your gown has to cover every inch of clothing,” I muttered and adjusted here and there while he watched me.

“Are we talking now?” he asked softly, almost whimsically.

“I can’t let you walk past the red tape like this. What are you doing here?” I asked instead.

“My dad’s firm was contracted to design the new wing of the hospital, so he put me on grunt work duty.”

“Why? Aren’t you high-level there?”

He hesitated before replying, “We’ve been arguing a bit, so this is his way of getting me out of his hair for a while.”

“What are you arguing about?”

“You really want to know?” he asked.

“Yeah. You two still fight a lot, huh?”

He scratched the back of his head. “Yep.” He used to always tell me about his fights. I found myself missing being there for him when, at least back then, he didn’t have anyone else to talk to.