"They could—" I turned to face Nick while violently waving in Erin's direction. "What the hell?"
He gave a weary shake of his head. "I don't know, man. Erin thinks they might like each other."
"Aren't we a little old to be fixing people up?" I asked.
Erin rested her chin in her laced fingers, a pleased grin on her face. "Maybe you are but I'm not."
"Walked right into that one," Acevedo muttered.
"You're the cradle robber," I said to him. "But listen. We can't be serious about setting Shap up with this guy. Schemes like this, they always backfire."
That sounded legit. It sounded like something a well-adjusted adult would say. Yeah, I was getting away with talking them out of this. They'd see reason. These two, they were smart. They wouldn't go through with this.
"They never work out for you," Erin said. "Mostly because you set your sights on people who are off-limits, like my sister Shannon. Like my sister-in-law Andy. Like my other sister-in-law Alex."
"Yes, I'm an asshole of great renown," I said. "Anyway. I don't want you setting up Shap. It's not going to end well."
"Who are you concerned about here?" Nick asked.
"I—I am simply stating," I said, more or less hiccuping out these words, "that your residents don't need to see Shap bag and tag a professor who is undoubtedly too delicate for the likes of a surgeon who chose to work on burns and wounds."
"We're not arranging any marriages here, Sebastian. I just want her to come to the party and meet a friend. What happens after that is out of my hands." When I didn't respond, she added, "If you really don't want to, it's fine. I'll just—"
"I'll do it," I grumbled. "Okay? I'll get her here."
Fuck my whole life.
Chapter 12
Sebastian
Even though I was due at the hospital early tomorrow, I hung out with the Acevedos past my bedtime. There was no limit to the surgery stories Nick and I could share, especially when Erin set out a plate of tiny Portuguese custard pies from the bakery near her office. I also lingered longer than necessary because I couldn't chance another run-in with Sara.
By the time I emerged from the subway station, I was dead on my feet. I never stayed out this late anymore, definitely not without a midday nap for fortification, and it showed as I dragged my ass up Charles Street. And this weather sucked. My god. Late October was the worst. It was cold and windy all the time and everyone got excited about the fucking leaves. As if that would compensate for the scant bit of sunlight we saw each day.
This early winter bullshit was just as bad as real winter. The snow and ice were total misery but—
I jerked to a stop five feet from my building, my shoes frozen to the sidewalk as I found Sara staring at me with wide eyes. I could hear my pulse thrumming in my eardrums as we regarded each other for a long, tense moment. A gust of wind howled through the narrow alleyways between the buildings and sliced through every layer of my clothing. I squinted against the frigid air, saying, "Out a little late for a school night, don't you think?"
Her face twisted into a disgusted sneer. "Yeah, like I'm going to justify myself to you. Sure thing."
She reached into her pocket, taking out her hospital access card and lanyard with her keys. She was coming home from work. She'd been avoiding me as much as I'd been avoiding her.
There was a pleasant edge to that realization but it wore off fast, leaving me more annoyed than I'd been earlier.
I jogged up the short stone steps, saying, "Not everything is a battle, Shap. Learn to recognize that."
"Right," she called from behind me. "Let me grab my notebook so I can take life lessons from the guy who doesn't think he can learn anything from anyone."
I unlocked the outer door and then the door into the vestibule, not bothering to hold either for Sara because she didn't need my help with a damn thing.
"It's funny how you're hung up on me being inflexible when it sounds like you could learn a few things yourself. Lesson one: you don't have to scream at people all the time," I said.
The doors banged shut behind her, leaving us once again trapped in this reckless space where the walls seemed to curl inward and the dim light collapsed over us.
"I bet I should smile more. Right? That would help, wouldn't it? Smiling and nodding and letting the men tell me how irrelevant my specialty is to their work."
I whirled around to face her even though I should've sprinted up the stairs and barricaded myself in my apartment. Stepped closer. "You know for a fucking fact that isn't true."
She held out a hand, but instead of using it to stop me, she curled it around the lapel of my coat. "And you know for a fucking fact you're guilty of exactly that so explain to me—"
Once again, I did not think.
I just shoved a hand into her hair and brought her mouth to mine. It took all of a second for her to grab the front of my coat and jerk me closer. If I hadn't been busy getting drunk off the taste of her, I would've laughed because she could not stand to lose the upper hand for a second. Not unless I drove her all the way out of her mind and obliterated any question as to who was in control.
And I hated that I knew this about her. I didn't want to walk around knowing how to push the right buttons so she could be here and not running in the eighty-five different directions in her mind. I didn't need to know anything about her buttons or her mind or—oh, fuck, I just wanted her out of these clothes. That was it. That was all I cared about.
I pushed her bag off her shoulder, pulled open her coat, pressed her spine to the panel of her door. "You're not so terrible when you shut up for a second," I said into her neck.
"If you're expecting some kind of reciprocal concession, you've come to the wrong place."
I ran a hand down the plump length of her thigh until I reached her knee, and hitched her leg high on my hip. I rocked against her center, my shaft ready to tear through my trousers.
Here we go for another round with my favorite mistake.
To her strangled moan, I said, "I think I'm in the right place."
She dropped her chin to her chest as another breath rushed out of her. "Your arrogance is suffocating."
I closed my hand over hers, prying the keys from her fingers. "Am I opening this door, Shap? Or am I taking my smugness"—I ground against her for some cruel emphasis—"home?"
"I prefer to be alone." She bowed toward me every time I rocked against her, as I stole and sucked and bit her lips.
I dragged the key ring over the tight bud of her nip, back and forth in a lazy rhythm. "I'm sure you do. It must be damn hard to find anyone who can even scrape the bottom of your exacting standards. But I think you like being alone with me."
"I can't decide if you're an idiot or a jackass," she mused.
I caught that nipple between my fingers and gave it a rough twist. "Why not both?"
"You're not that self-destructive."
I dipped my head to meet her gaze. "What the fuck does this look like to you?"