"What if we had one great night while you're here?" he says. "I could take you out tomorrow, repay you for spending this evening with me in the E.R."
"Sadly?" I say. "Tonight would be the best first date I've had all year, if it were a date, which I realize it isn't."
Something about this feels weirdly like a first date though. It's the getting to know each other conversation, the flirtatious banter. I'm struck by how scared I am about the feelings I'm having for him. My former opinion that Seth is an asshat has been replaced over the last few days with the terrifying notion that I might be falling for him.
"That is sad," he says. "But I haven't gone on a date in a long time either."
"What about tattooed girl from the bar?" I ask. "She sure gave you a big squeeze."
"Piper? We're just friends, and she's a hugger. We dated in high school, but that was a long time ago."
"Pretty sure she still has the hots for you," I say.
Seth openly grins at me, loving this. "You sound a little jealous."
"Like you were of Rhett," I say in my defense.
"I'm not jealous of Rhett. He's just a boy. You don't need a boy."
Our eyes connect, and the wind is knocked out of me.
"I don't?" I say breathlessly. "What do I need?"
Right when the sexual tension is at a crescendo, the nurse calls Seth's name.
He gently taps me on the shoulder as he rises from his chair. "C'mon, since you insisted on being my emergency contact, you can come back there with me and hold my hand."
Fourteen
The physician'sassistant working on stitching Seth's hand back together is a short, stout, middle-aged woman named Lynn. Everything about her is rough, including the way she's cleaning out his wound with anti-septic. Personally, I think she could be a little more gentle with her technique, but Seth, as always, is being stoic.
"Geez, you're tall," she says, putting her fists on her hips and sizing Seth up. "I'm gonna need a stool. No, I'm just kidding. Let's lower this bed."
Seth leans over and presses the button to lower the bed down so that Lynn can comfortably work on him. Now instead of being eye level with her, he's boob level, and Lynn's rack is quite formidable, like the rest of her. She preps a needle of lidocaine then injects it into Seth's hand.
"Your chart says you rejected pain medication earlier," she says. “You want something now? That looks like it hurts."
"I'm good," Seth says.
She looks over at me, raising her eyebrows like no one has ever turned down pain meds before. "What is he, a masochist?"
"Yes," I say in a somber tone. "He asked me to cut off his finger, which is how we ended up here."
I can tell that Seth is struggling to keep a straight face. Lynn squints at me, trying to figure out if I'm serious.
"It was a masochism joke," I explain, not wanting her to call security on me. "I didn't actually injure him. Although I've thought about it."
She shakes her head and continues her task.
"You two are a pair," she mumbles.
"I don't need narcotics," Seth says. "Just stitch me up, please."
Lynn makes an irritated grunt. "Suit yourself, sweetheart."
When she begins stitching his hand, I'm surprised to find that I can't look away. It's disgusting and fascinating at the same time.
And then I remember why I'm there.
