It's always so hard not to stare at you during our shifts together. While I work in my corner for the hours-long treatments, I try not to glance over as I hear you shuffle around to administer meds or hear you sweet talk one of the puppies. You're so cute when you sit on the floor to console a dog fresh out of surgery or when you try to coax one to eat his food by pretending to take a bite yourself. On the occasion that you have to walk by me to get to the surgery prep or to run blood samples, you always make a point to shoot a comment my way. "Having fun yet?" or, "Wow you definitely DON'T look like you want to melt out of your seat." Every facetious jab causes me to emit a snort of feigned annoyance or a groan of agreement in regards to my very overt boredom. Monitoring a patient under anesthesia for over an hour is important, but oh-so-tedious.
I'm done! Only three MRIs today! Thank god I can finally get back on the floor and, admittedly, closer to you. You make a comment about being happy to have my help and I feel my face tinge crimson.
I hide it with sarcasm, per usual. "Oh yes, nobody fear, your hero is back." I get a chuckle and a smile. Ugh, that smile does something to me every time. The way your nose crinkles just a bit and your eyes light up. I need to look away. I need to focus on the patients. We have some cats today, so that will be a welcome distraction. Everyone knows that, where there's a cat, I'm close by.
"I need to take him out actually. I was waiting for you to help me with that."
I'm flattered. I hope it doesn't show too much.
"Duh! You know I'm your gal. Let me grab the sweet boy."
"Uhh he's not so sweet. That's why I waited for you. You're one of the few people who's not afraid of the grumpy ones."
Again, I'm thrilled you think highly of me.
"He's just scared. I'll burrito the li'l guy and bring him into X-ray."
I always get the smallest shiver when I hear the door close and see the room darken. It's just us and I watch as you set up the machine. I hear the lowest growl coming from our little friend while he steeps in anger about his blanketed confinement. You're finally done. You put on your protective vest and grab one for me. As you grab our buddy with one hand, you extend the other, helping me to put my arm into the vest.
"Thanks, you're a saint." I say with the faintest tinge of sarcasm as I snap the vest into place.
"No, you are," you mumble while looking at the computer and handing me back the cat.
"Ha! I'm a lot of things but 'saint' is not on that list."
I say this as a joke but I see your eyes dart to me and very quickly scan my face for something I'm not sure of. There's a small laugh from you as you help me put the patient on the table and adjust him for some shots. The machine whirs and clicks with each shot. One, two, three, four, five. We're done and no one got scratched. The hard part is over with minimal issues. I wrap the guy back up and you go to remove your vest.
"Here. Let me help"
You walk behind me to unclip the vest and I feel your hand brush the back of my neck as you undo the velcro. Damnit. I fumble the cat, who reaches up for a quick swat and scratches me right below my eye. The door is closed, so it's not the end of the world when I let him go.
"Fuck! Are you ok?" The concern in your voice is genuine. "Oh my god! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to tickle you or anything. Let me see your eye!"
It's bleeding a little bit, but I'm not concerned. I try to reassure you, but your hand shoots up to grab my chin to move me closer to the light of the computer.
"It's superficial, but I still want you to wash it. Fuck, that was CLOSE. He almost got your eye."
I just realized I stopped breathing when you touched my face. You haven't let go and I squirm under your focussed stare. The room goes silent and I force myself to pull away. You're married. You have a child. I find myself repeating this regularly whenever I catch myself staring a little too long. It's like a mantra of sorts.
"At least I'll have a cool scar. I'll need a better story about where it comes from though."
"Why do you always do that?"
I'm startled to realize you're right behind me
"Do what?"
"Make a joke anytime someone shows real concern, or even when they compliment you."
"Oh..." I'm genuinely surprised you've observed me closely enough to notice this. "Um, defense mechanism? It's easier than trying to decipher if someone's making a joke or low-key being rude. So beat em to it! They can't fuck with your head if you don't take anything seriously."I laugh but I know you can tell my statement is truthful.
You help me wrangle the cat and we put him back in his cage to cool off. The rest of the day is busy. We both end up staying past our ten hours, and when the twelfth hour comes you tell me I need to leave because you feel shitty leaving before me.
"We got here at the same time. Please, for the love of god, clock out so I can go home and sleep."
I chuckle and confirm the current shift will be ok if we leave. It's already dark out and I realize that's because it's now close to midnight. So much for getting off at 9:30. I grab my stuff, clock out and fish through my bag for my pepper spray. I see you notice this and you offer to walk me out. I only say yes because I know I parked pretty far.
"Do you always carry pepper spray?"
"Only when I forget to charge my stun gun"
"Jesus! You're kind of terrifying."
"Ha! I'm 5'1"! You gotta get that upper-hand. We can't all be able to reach the top cupboards, Mr.six foot."
"Six-two, thank you very much."
"This isn't Tindr, you can say six foot and people will just know you're tall." There's a teasing edge to my voice.
"I think you just think that because you're short. Everyone is tall to you."
"Rude. I'm what professionals call 'vertically challenged.'"
Before I know it, we're at my car and I find myself sad that the banter has to end.
"Thanks for walking me. You probably saved some old woman from walking over to me and getting accidentally pepper sprayed."
"I got you. No need to be scared." The change in your tone, from playful to sincere, takes me by surprise.
"Oh, uh, right. Thank you."
I fumble as I feel how close you really are.
"Hey, thanks again for staying late tonight. You have no idea how much we all appreciate how hard you work. It doesn't go unnoticed."
"Oh uhhh, yeah man. I'm a team player, I aim to please."
I hear a low chuckle that just might be the sexiest thing I've ever heard. Somewhere between exasperation and desperation. I'm not imagining the closeness now. I see you take a step forward and I stumble back and bump into my car.
"You're a bit clumsy today aren't you?"
You reach up to touch my scratch again. I washed it and the bleeding stopped, but the skin is still an angry red. I'm just reveling in your touch until I realize what's going on. Your hand is moving behind my head into my hair and you're leaning in.
"Oh, shit!" I manage to sputter out. "Uhh, not smart. You're married. With the, uhhh, you know, child and whatnot."
I'm scrambling to the side and I'm out of breath though I've done nothing physically taxing.
"Yeah. I know. I'm sorry. I don't know what comes over me when I'm with you, but I'm drawn to you. I find reasons to walk by you when you're in your corner, then I shoot the stupidest comments at you when I have nothing to say. I don't know what it is, but I'm caught in your orbit when you're here. If you want me to stop, I'll stop."
"Goddamnit, man. You can't tell me this! Of course I don't WANT you to stop, but I can't be the home wrecker. Go home to your wife. Give her this sexual tension."
"But it's not for her. You're the one who's driven me wild all day. Every time I see you bent over a cage or stretched at odd angles to do a blood draw on a dog... let's just say I have to take a moment in a room without cameras to readjust. I know you feel it too. I've caught you staring on multiple occasions."
While you've been talking you've moved closer again. Your body is maybe an inch or two away from mine and all it would take was the slightest lean to feel your warmth against me.
"Look, I haven't slept with my wife in over four months. I love my kid, but things have been different since we became parents. We're in therapy, but it doesn't seem to be helping."
"I know that line." I don't even try to keep the exasperation out of my voice. That's the line every married man has under his belt. 'Oh, my wife and I are estranged, we're getting a divorce, she cheats too.'"
"Maybe it's a cliche because it's so often true. I mean... fifty percent of marriages end in divorce. Honestly, I don't know what's going on with me and her, all I do know is right now, I want to kiss you. I'm not going to force you, but if you want this as bad as I do, I think it's worth indulging."
"... Just one kiss?"
"If that's all you want, yes."
I know it's wrong. But everything inside me says yes. I stop squirming and let my body relax so that I'm now leaning on your arm that reached out to rest against my car. I see the faintest smile touch your lips and you lean in again.
"I'll take that as a yes."
Explosions. Your lips feel like electricity and my breath catches in my throat. Your hands are big and I feel one creep up to touch the side of my neck. Your thumb is caressing my jaw line and I feel your tongue very lightly snake into my mouth. I can't help but let a moan escape and I feel you press against me while you suck my bottom lip into your mouth. Your hand is in my hair now and I feel the slightest tugging so you can pull my head back to expose my neck. Your lips are at my jaw now and I feel you moving lower to gently kiss my neck.
"Stop!"
I'm out of breath and struggling to stand.
"What's wrong? Did I move too fast? I'm sorry."
"No, no, no! it's just...we're, uhhh, kind of out in the open. What if someone sees."
The smile that reaches your mouth is intoxicating. It's a smirk. You know you have me.
"Well, then come to my truck. It's a tad bigger than this tiny Prius."
"I'll have you know that this tiny Prius gets great gas mileage."
"Oh, I'm sure. But a truck has a little more room to, uhhh, move around."
What can I do? I can turn around, open my door, and drive home to an empty apartment and a bottle of wine. You know I won't, though. You know this so certainly that you already pull away and start walking to your truck. I sigh and lock my car as I follow you across the parking lot. You reach your hand out to help me into the passenger side.
"Damn dude, why do you have a vehicle that requires a ladder to get in?!"
"I thought we already went over this. You're short. You require ladders for most things in life."
"You know what? You suck, I'm leaving."
