“You’re still exceptionally new,” she said. “Cellophane-wrapped with the price tag still on.”
“Nope. The seal’s been broken. We’ve texted. You helped me limp off a city street. Hey, we’ve even had our first fight and planned our TV show, Hollyn Darling. I’m no longer new to you.” He winced and gripped his side. “We’re old friends now.”
She stared at him for a moment, part of her wishing it could be true. But who was she kidding? One, how could she trust that any interaction they had wasn’t going to turn into material? And two, she’d been fooling herself when she’d thought they’d been flirting. Jasper was a comedian. Funny quips were his business. Charm was his currency. She’d read the whole situation wrong. “We’re not friends, Jasper.”
He flinched, and this time she knew it had nothing to do with the pain in his side. “Not big on forgiveness, huh?”
She faced the road again. The sign for University Medical Center came into view, and she shook her head, feeling bone-deep tired. “Look, I was rude to you that first day. You were a jerk onstage. We’re even. Let’s just call a truce and be polite to each other at work.”
“But—”
She pulled up to the emergency room entrance. “Go see a doctor, Jasper. Your organs could explode.”
One of the hospital staff stepped up to the car, and Hollyn unlocked the doors.
Jasper gave her one last injured look and then sighed. “Thanks for the ride, Hollyn.”
“Hope you feel better.”
A stocky guy in scrubs helped Jasper out of the car and guided him to an awaiting wheelchair. Jasper looked back once before the guy wheeled him through the open doors. Hollyn sat there for a minute, trying to get her breathing back to normal. She stared at the closed doors, feeling a little guilty for just dumping him at the hospital without going in, but what was she supposed to do? They weren’t friends. If it was something serious, they’d call his family or friends to be there with him. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. She was not going in after him.
Nope. She was not going to do it. This weird night ended here.
She put her car in gear. She needed to get home, get to bed, and forget this night ever happened. But right as she pulled out, something thumped onto the passenger floorboard. She veered the car closer to the curb so she could stop and clicked on the interior light. Sitting on the floor of the passenger side was a silver rectangle—Jasper’s phone.
She closed her eyes. Come on, Universe, give me a freaking break here. With a groan, she turned the wheel and headed for the parking garage.
She was never going to escape Jasper Deares.
Chapter Seven
Jasper awoke in a haze of cottony thoughts and confusing dreams that involved chimpanzees replacing his group members at his next improv show. He shifted in bed, and a strange, harsh scent filled his nose. He gripped his sheets, but a pinch of pain in his left hand had him releasing the fabric just as quickly. What the hell?
His eyelids felt too heavy to lift, and unfamiliar sounds filled his ears. Maybe he was still dreaming. Monkeys were going to show up at any moment. Or maybe he was drunk? He didn’t remember drinking. He tried to lick his lips, but his tongue was dry as sawdust. He turned his head and forced his eyes open. A pale-beige wall came into view along with some kind of machine. Confusion filled him. This wasn’t his bedroom. He squinted in the low lights, small details coming into focus. The bed rails. The IV line. The rolling table.
A hospital room. He was in a hospital.
Oh. Flashes of memories came back to him like they’d been part of his dream. Being wheeled into a busy ER. A male nurse talking to him and bringing him to a room for tests. A doctor explaining things to him in quick, firm words. Talks of getting Jasper prepped for surgery. Appendix. Could burst. Need to get him in now.
Jasper groaned quietly. He’d had surgery. Fucking hell. He glanced down at his left hand where an IV was taped to the top. A wristband with his name circled his other arm. Then a dull pain in his abdomen registered. They’d taken a piece of him out. That was going to hurt a lot more when whatever medication he was on wore off.
He closed his eyes, dread filling him. Maybe he should just go back to sleep, linger in denial for a little while longer.
But a soft sound off to his right had him lifting his eyelids again. He turned his head, every movement feeling like he was encased in Jell-O. He blinked a few times at the sight that greeted him. A woman curled up in a chair and sound asleep, snoring softly. Hollyn. The shock of seeing her there cleared some of the fuzz from his mind.
Hollyn had stayed? She hadn’t even come in with him last night. Or had she? Last he remembered she’d dropped him off at the door, basically telling him to get lost. What was she doing sleeping in his room?
He wanted to ask her, but his voice wouldn’t work. All he could do was make hoarse, unintelligible sounds like he was some drunk coming to on Bourbon Street. He gave up trying and just watched her for a few moments. Last night flooded back to him. What he’d done onstage. Her anger. Finding out she had Tourette’s.
He winced. Jesus. He’d never felt like such a world-class asshole. Those faces she’d made at him had been out of her control. And he’d just assumed it was about him. Self-centered much? He could almost hear his sister’s voice berating him. And even after what he’d done, Hollyn had still offered to bring him to the hospital. Now she’d stayed in what looked to be the world’s most uncomfortable chair.
Who was this woman?
He’d learned some of that answer last night. She was someone who wasn’t afraid to yell at him when she was angry but who said new people made her nervous. A woman who had traded flirty texts with him but who could barely look him in the eye. A woman who seemed very guarded.
He frowned, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she slept. He didn’t know much about Tourette’s, but in sleep, her face was smooth and relaxed. Her features were soft, her lashes long against her cheeks and lips slightly parted. He’d already known she was attractive, but in the unguarded state of slumber, her makeup a little smudged, her curly hair even wilder than normal, he realized she was a knockout.
This was what she’d look like if he woke up next to her in bed.
Annnnd that was not a thought he should be having in a hospital bed about a woman who had basically declared she’d never speak to him again. He closed his eyes. Maybe it was the drugs.
Maybe it was just that need to have everyone like him. Getting Hollyn into bed would prove that she liked him quite a lot. In fact, he would make sure she walked away very satisfied with her new friend Jasper.
Shut. Up. Pervy. Brain.
He had bigger things to deal with right now than inconvenient attraction. Like goddamned recovery from surgery and hospital bills and starting classes and figuring out this whole theater situation. No more thinking about Hollyn. Or how she’d look in his bed. Or how she’d just sighed in her sleep in a way that made him think of what she’d sound like when she—