Medicine Man

When I’m done, I make my way to the rec room and try to focus on reading. But I still feel him.

In fact, I feel him so much that I don’t feel anything else. Not when Hunter comes to me with the meds. Not when Roger and Annie say hi to me as they pass me by.

It becomes so bad, my absent-mindedness and my need for him, that I almost go searching for him.

But I won’t.

First of all, I overheard one of the nurses say that he’s on a conference call. And second of all, I don’t want to hunt him down. I want him to hunt me down. I want to see if he’ll find ways to see me.

If he’ll come for me.

I’m praying for it. Because if he does, then maybe he does feel something for me. There’s a teeny tiny light at the end of this dark tunnel.

A moment later, I see it. The light.

It comes in the form of a tall man, with polished wingtips and hands thrust inside the pockets of his dress pants. My eyes travel up and up, until I reach his face. His beautiful, carved face.

As much as I have come to love the cloak of darkness, I find that I love the day more.

I see his features clearly. I see the strength of his shoulders. The softness of his mouth he has been kissing me with, or rather driving me insane with. I see his tapering waist that I’ve been wrapping my legs around. It looks and feels like a slab of rock.

“Willow,” he murmurs, tipping his chin at me.

His eyes flick up and down my face, as he takes me in and my loose hair, like he’s doing the same thing, absorbing me in the daylight. He lingers a little bit on my chest, probably reading my t-shirt. Today, it says: “Beware of the love child of a Disney Princess and Hermione.”

“Dr. Blackwood.” I nod, trying to keep my voice less breathy and more unaffected. Not sure if I managed it, though. Swallowing, I try again. “Is your meeting done?”

“Have you been spying on me?”

I can’t help the slight smile that overcomes my face. “No. The nurses were talking.”

He accepts the answer with a nod. “Yes. Just.”

So he did come looking for me as soon as it was over.

Thank you, God.

“I see you’re not playing poker,” he comments in a casual voice.

I glance at the table across the room where the whole gang is playing poker – the girls, Tristan, Roger, Annie, and Lisa. Despite looking pale and gaunt due to The Heartstone Effect, Tristan is shooting his signature smirk at Renn and she’s ignoring him, blushing like crazy. They asked me to play too, but I refused.

“I’m not interested in poker anymore,” I say, looking back at him. “Besides, I wasn’t very good. I always lost.”

He frowns, albeit slightly. “That’s because you weren’t taught well. There’s no magic to poker. It’s all very scientific.”

At this, my smile becomes a grin. Gosh, how much have I smiled ever since I came out here to Heartstone. Ever since I met him. Probably a million times.

He’s still jealous.

“Maybe you should be the one to teach me, you know. All the ways of poker and…” I trail off, throwing him a smirk of my own. “Other worldly things.”

He stares into my eyes for a few beats, his gaze intense and full of something secret and crackling. When he’s done with his perusal and making me squirm in my seat and waking up all the sore muscles, he says, “Can I see you in my office for a second?”

I sit up, alert. “Uh, right now?”

The look he gives me hits me right in my belly and the sore muscles of my thighs and ass. “Yes.”

And then he steps back and leaves, or rather strides out of there. How does he do that? Pack so much sexual energy and authority into one word: yes.

I watch him go. He’s probably expecting me to follow him right away.

And I will.

I know I will follow him. There’s no other choice.

Be cool. Be cool. Be cool.

It’s dangerous and reckless to see him in his office in broad daylight. It’s practically setting ourselves to be caught.

I stand up from my seat, nonetheless.

He was right. It is madness. But madness is us. The rest of everything is inconsequential. Besides, I only have six days.

As I walk toward the door, my eyes catch on someone. Beth. She’s on the other side of the room and I have a feeling that she’s watched our conversation, Simon’s and mine. She saw that we were talking to each other. I wonder if she saw the intimacy there. The familiarity.

Is there any familiarity, though? Did we change in ways we don’t even know about?

My heart pounds and I expect her to walk over to me. Stop me, maybe. But she throws me a smile before going back to the nurse she was talking to, or rather, supposed to be talking to.