Washed Up (Bayside Heroes)

“Did I what?” she asks on a breath.

“Did you mean what you said?”

I don’t even realize how much I’ve leaned into her until that moment, until one elbow is balanced on the console between us, and my eyes are flicking between hers, our noses inches from touching.

“Greg…”

The sound of my name on her lips has me leaning in closer, my breath hitched in my throat as my gaze falls to her lips.

Her plump, bowed, beautiful lips.

Even now, all these years later, I remember how they tasted.

My hand slides up from her wrist to her elbow, and I gently hold her, pulling her closer. Her eyes flutter shut, lips parting as I lean in even more. I can smell her, sunshine and fresh cut grass, and with my heart pounding loud in my ears, I close my eyes and close the distance between us.

Or rather, I almost do.

But then my phone rings, loud and shrill, causing us both to jump and Amanda to rip away from my grasp.

I curse, reaching into my pocket and pulling out the offending device. I curse again when I see the words BAYSIDE REGIONAL on the screen.

“I need to take this,” I say to her, reaching forward to turn down the music.

Amanda nods, and already she’s retreating into herself, hugging the door like she can’t get far enough away from me. She pulls out her own phone, typing away as I grit my teeth.

I force a breath, answering the call, and after a quick conversation with the nurse about a female patient in labor and dilated to five centimeters, I know I need to go in. I tell her I’ll be there in twenty minutes, and when I hang up the phone, I let out a long sigh.

“That was the hospital. I’m on call this weekend, and I need to go in.”

Amanda nods. “No problem. Actually, I called an Uber, so you can just keep the car.”

I frown. “What?” But she’s already grabbing her purse and climbing out.

I scramble out of my own seatbelt and kick my door open as she closes hers. She doesn’t so much as glance over her shoulder at me as she walks down the sidewalk to the corner, and I jog to catch up.

“Amanda, please,” I try. “I… I’m sorry if I—”

“It’s fine. Really,” she says, a smile far too wide to be natural spreading on her lips. “We were going to go car shopping this weekend anyway. It’s no big deal. And this way you can drive to the hospital.”

“You could just take me real quick. I can get a ride back. I—”

A Hyundai pulls up to the curb, and Amanda waves, confirming the driver’s name before climbing in the back seat.

I hold the door before she can close it, our eyes meeting, but I don’t know what to say.

Sorry I almost kissed you… except that I’m not fucking sorry, because I really, really wanted to. I’ve wanted to since that night sixteen years ago. I want to right fucking now, actually.

Amanda swallows, forcing a weak smile once more. “It’s fine, Greg. Go. They need you.”

I clench my jaw, not wanting to let her go, not wanting to leave things where they are now.

But I have no choice.

Letting out a long sigh, I nod, trying and failing to smile as I finally shut the door. I hit the top of the car twice with my fist the second her face disappears from view.

And then the car pulls away, and I stand on the curb and watch her go.

CHAPTER FIVE

AMANDA

Professor Millikin drones on at the front of the classroom, pointing out the differences in the theories of gender from Carol Gilligan and Nancy Chodorow. Usually, Women’s Mental Health is my favorite class, but after a weekend of anxiety and a long day of classes to kick off the week, I’m too drained to focus.

Instead, I stare at the notes I’ve typed on my laptop and doodle mindlessly in my notebook. I find myself drawing stars and flowers and mountains like I used to in high school when I was daydreaming about a boy.

Funny how so much has changed since then, and yet…

All weekend, I’ve tried to get my mind off what happened with Greg. Or rather, what almost happened. As if embarrassing myself by admitting I was trying to date wasn’t enough, or watching him flip through my stupid selfies, then he had to go and tell me what I said to him when I was being put under.

And then, he had to go and almost kiss me.

A long exhale that sounds a lot like a whimper a little kid would let out after not getting their way leaves me automatically, drawing a few looks from my classmates nearby. I sink a little farther in my chair, shaking my head.

God, it had felt good, to have a man look at me that way.