Sara froze when she saw who was lying in the hospital bed.
This can't be happening, this cannot be happening,
she told herself.
But it was.
He was here. At her work. By some cruel twist of fate.
And it was just her luck.
The man she'd had a small, drunken tryst with had ended up on her block of beds. He looked to be in some kind of pain.
The universe was taunting her.
She couldn't keep her cheeks from flushing as she stood halfway in the doorway.
He hadn't seen her yet, his eyes were on his phone, his face set in a grimace.
Sara took the moment before the storm to reflect on her weekend.
***
It had been Friday night.
Her roommates had wanted to go out, Sara hadn't. But, alas, she had caved to peer pressure. Margaritas were, after all, her kryptonite and they had been promised.
But she'd told herself she wasn't going to get dressed up. Too much, at least.
A simple little skirt and a sweater. A little leg and a tight outline of her breasts. Standard procedure.
Sara was tall, almost 5'8 with long, blonde hair. The kind that made people fall in love with Marilyn Monroe. Her body was a nice hourglass, thanks to soccer in college. Her ass was shapely and round like two soccer balls put together. Her tits were smallish, but no man had ever complained about that. She would have slapped them, but still.
They went to a little divey bar called Backyard. A smooth congregation of the local college students, workers from the local mills, and the techies.
Dumb money, desperate money, and big money, as the girls liked to say.
Sara hadn't had a boyfriend for about eight months. And had nothing but frisky make-outs and heavy petting since then.
It hadn't been a nasty break-up. It had hardly been love. But she had been busy. Between work, the gym, and family there hadn't been much time. She'd needed to decompress and learn to be alone anyway.
This had been the perfect opportunity.
But then Friday came. And she found herself making awkward, on-and-off eye contact with a man as she sat sipping rather idly in a corner booth.
The music was loud and she'd been feeling herself more and more as the margarita hit.
He did happen to be a rather handsome man. He sat with his own group of friends at the bar. He was stockier, with a powerful build. Big shoulders and strong looking hands. He wore a green flannel and jeans that ran down to boots.
His hair was a dark brown color and from a distance his eyes seemed to match. As did the thick mustache he wore. His jaw was like a slab of granite. His nose looked like it had been broken a time or two. Her time as a nurse had taught her the signs to look for.
This wasn't her usual type.
She had been partial to tall and skinny in the past. But there was something about his surety of movement and the almost amused glance he shot her That made her attracted to him.
Sara guessed he played some kind of sport like rugby or flag football or something. She hoped it was the former.
One of her girlfriends, Mandy, saw the distant flirtation happening and said, "He looks like he'd split you like an oil drum."
She was a skinny, dark-skinned girl with short, black hair and an air of royalty to her. Mostly due to the copious amounts of gold and silver jewelry She wore.
Sara frowned. "I don't even know what that means."
Mandy sipped her gin and tonic, eyeing the man. "Are you going to him, or is he coming here?" She wondered.
"Neither," Sara said flatly.
"I think he'll come here," Mandy continued, unperturbed. "He looks like he likes the game. And like he'll take charge."
"Doesn't matter either way."
Another one of their friends, Cora, spun around from the edge of the booth seat. "You need to get your panties out of a bunch. Orr..." her eyes twinkled. "Get them off completely."
"Agreed," Mandy said, and they clinked their glasses.
Sara groaned. "I'm not in the mood."
Cora leaned toward her, dropping her voice. "Look at his hands, Sara. His neck too. Looks like he could lift you over his head."
Sara snorted. "And?"
"He's just so goddamn masculine. Look at him. He looks dirty." Cora let out a breath. "I bet he's big too."
Sara slapped her friend on the shoulder. "That's what you need. Someone dirty. Someone who's not..." she searched for the word. "So clean."
"Well, that explains it," Sara mocked.
"She means someone who isn't so vanilla," Mandy explained.
Sara raised an eyebrow.
Mandy doubled down. "Your last guy was boring. Guy before that, boring. I mean come on. Live a little."
Sara's face got a little red. "I'm fine living the way I am."
She wasn't really but change was scary, and this mysterious man was an unknown quantity.
"Sure, scaredy cat," Mandy said. "I won't let you bring me down."
She scooted out of the booth and walked over to the man, her hips swinging provocatively. A quick look over her shoulder showed a feline smile.
"That bitch," Cora muttered, watching.
Sara just watched with unsurprised passivity.
Their conversation lasted all of a minute in which case Mandy came walking back, her cheeks flushed, but her tails between her legs, so Sara thought.
Mandy slid into the booth and said quietly, "His voice is so hot."
"And?" Cora pressed.
Mandy rolled her eyes. "He called me pretty...but doesn't want anything to do with me." She looked at Sara. "He said he can't keep his eyes off you."
Sara felt her cheeks flushing. "What does—"
"Don't be an idiot," Cora said, flashing the man a covert glance. "You know what it means."
"He won't wait forever. Go talk to him," Cora said, turning back around.
But Sara didn't. This game of cat and mouse they played with their eyes was enough. And she was too nervous.
So, as the night wore on, the other girls found men. They were bought drinks. And slowly got pulled away from the booth.
But it wasn't until Mandy vacated her spot that he came over.
It was smooth how he just happened to find himself there at the right time, and asked, "This seat taken?"
Sara had been tracking him from the corner of her eye.
"It would seem not," she replied.
He slid in, frowning. "Ouch, bad start. Should we try it again?"
Sara suppressed a smile. "Do you think it'll go any better? Maybe just try your pickup line?"
He nodded seriously, taking a deep breath. "Right into it, huh."
She nodded. "Best to get it over with."
"Alright, then." He composed himself. "Do you play quidditch? Because I know a keeper when I see one."
There was a beat of awkward silence as Sara blinked.
"Was that a Harry Potter joke?"
He narrowed his eyes. "Ah, I think I've been linked. Your friend over there told me you loved Harry Potter."
They both looked at Mandy, who was getting chatted up at the bar. She was covertly casting them looks and trying hard to stifle a smile.
Sara burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hands. The man turned slightly red, smiling madly in embarrassment.
"At least you're laughing," he said.
"True. You got me there," she said through choked laughter.
"That little minx," he said, shaking his head.
