Prom King

There's something too real in his voice. "Are you okay?"

"Of course," he says, but there's a flash of pain in his eyes that he doesn't entirely hide, and I don't dare ask what it is. I can't push him for that. I don't have that right, yet.

"So," I say, changing the subject, putting on a smile. "You like me. I like you. You're not using me for sex. So what are we doing?"

"I want to know you," Adam says. "I want to date you. And, if after a few dates you decide you still like me, I have every intention of asking you to be my girlfriend. After that, who knows?"

My breath catches in my chest. In high school, there's almost nothing that I wouldn't have done to hear Adam say something like that. And it feels just as good, if not more, now. He wants me. He likes me.

"I like that plan," I say, yawning. I'm suddenly tired. "When do you have to leave?"

"Not for a while."

I shake myself a little. "I don't want to fall asleep. Not while you're here."

"Why not?" This smile is real and more like what I already recognize as the real Adam.

"Because you're here, and it still feels new and like we're on borrowed time."

He brushes the hair back from my face. "We're not on borrowed time. And if you're tired, you should sleep. I'll hold you for as long as I can."

The butterflies in my stomach are totally out of control right now, but the sudden burst of exhaustion is pulling me down, and Adam tucks me closer to his body. His warmth is so good, and I fade into what feels like total and complete safety and comfort.

I don't know how long it is when I surface, Adam tucking a blanket around my body. He's crouched down by me and I reach out for his hand. "Don't go."

"Believe me, I don't want to." He kisses me softly. "But I have to. I'll see you soon."

"Promise?"

"Promise." He finishes arranging the blanket around me, and I hear his footsteps leaving as I fade back to sleep.

15

Ollie

Adam doesn't text the next day. Or the next. I start to get nervous because even though he said all those nice things, that was right after we'd had sex and he was happy. Who knows, maybe he didn't mean it? My gut tells me he wasn't lying but I can't make ten years of anxiety just evaporate.

I text Lorraine and all she texts back is an eye roll emoji. Then,

Girl, that boy is so hooked on you, I can't believe you'd even think that.

He isn't hooked on me.

Yes he fucking is. And don't argue with me.

It's my turn to roll my eyes, and I put my phone down only to hear it buzz again.

If you're worried, why don't you bring him lunch or something? Medical students eat like shit while they’re on these kinds of shifts. Plus, you'd get to see him?

I mean...that could work?

What if he doesn't want me showing up at work?

If he doesn't, then that's not exactly a good sign. Like he wants you to keep you a secret. If you're really worried, then this is a good solution. It will tell you what he's thinking.

I don't really like the idea of testing him when he doesn't know what's happening.

I mean, you're not doing it as a test, you want to see him right?

Yeah, of course.

Well, then go see him. It's just a side effect that his reaction to you will show you a lot about where you stand.

I suppose that's true.

It is. Go get him.

It's almost the end of the workday, and I'm basically killing time anyway. My boss knows that I do my work and get it done, so he doesn't care when I come and go. He trusts that whatever I need to do is in good hands.

I double-check that everything is taken care of before packing up. I honestly have no idea what Adam likes to eat, but I'm going to take a chance and pick up some pasta from one of my favorite places. Pasta seems like a safe choice. Most people like pasta, right? Besides, it has to be better than hospital food either way.

For a second I debate going home to change out of my really boring work clothes, but I'm way closer to the hospital here at work. Going all the way back to Astoria and coming back to Manhattan would easily take more than an hour, and I don't want to waste that kind of time.

I place the order for the food before I head out the door. This is one of my go-tos for lunch when I forget to pack one. They're fast and delicious without being overly expensive. When you find those qualities in a restaurant in New York, it’s kind of like spotting a unicorn.

When I walk in the door ten minutes later, my food is already packed and waiting, and it takes me less than five minutes to pay and get out. Now that I'm committing, I feel a buzz of excitement in my stomach. There's a small part of me that thinks I should text him first, but fuck it, I want to surprise him. And I definitely want to see how hot he looks in scrubs.

I take a cab to the Upper East Side, not wanting to deal with rush-hour delays on the subway. There's still a bit of traffic, but I think it's faster. I have the cab drop me off at the main entrance to the hospital. Now I just have to figure out where exactly the pediatrics department is.

A friendly woman at the front desk gives me directions, and I follow them as best I can through a maze of hallways and a couple of elevators. I know that I've found the right place when the elevator doors open and there's a giant bulletin board filled with children's drawings right in front of the door.

It's still very maze-like, but I find my way to a nurse’s station. "Hi," I say to the woman dressed in pale pink scrubs. "I'm looking for Dr. Carlisle."

"Are you the mother of a patient?" she asks.

"No," I say, blushing despite the fact that I have no reason. "I'm...uhhh...I brought him dinner."

She smiles then. "Oh you must be the girlfriend. I'll page him for you."

The girlfriend. He's already told people about me? Something about that gives me a little twinge of happiness. She speaks into the phone, paging him to the nurse’s station and I wait, biting my lip with nervousness.

He comes around the corner, and damn, scrubs are a good look for him. He could be a doctor from a TV medical drama with how hot he looks. The dark blue sets off his tan skin and blue eyes. It takes him a second to see me, but when he does, he breaks into a huge smile. "What are you doing here?"

"I brought you food," I say.

Adams eyes go wide. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

He laughs, pulling me in for a quick kiss. "You're a lifesaver. Now I don't have to eat from the vending machine."

"You guys don't have a cafeteria?" I ask as he takes my hand and guides us away from the nursing station.

"We do, but trust me, you don't want to eat there. I do it as little as possible. But we'll go there now, cause it's the easiest place to eat."

I squeeze his hand. "I'm not interrupting anything?"

"You actually came at a really good time. Visiting hours are almost over and I have to do my rounds in a little while. But I can play hooky for a while."

"I'm glad," I say. "I was nervous you wouldn't be happy with me just showing up. But I wanted to see you."

Adam lets go of my hand, instead wrapping his arm around my hips as we walk. "This was an amazing surprise. I haven't been able to get you out of my head, and I'm sorry I haven't been able to text."

We take a set of stairs down one floor and through a set of double doors to a sterile white room filled with tables and chairs and a really depressing looking food line. "So what are we having?" he asks as we grab a table off to the side.

I hand him the bag. "I didn't know what you liked, so I thought that pasta was a safe bet."

He sticks his face in the bag and groans. "It's an amazing bet. I love Italian and this smells fucking amazing. Thank you."

I help him get the take-out containers out of the bag and he steps away from the table to grab some plates and silverware. "Where on earth did you get this?" he asks. "It's really good."

I tell him about my unicorn Italian place and I think I may hav

e a new convert on my hands.

"I wonder if I tip them really well if they'll deliver up here," he says.