AllFreeNovel
Share Us
They’re obviously here together, her hand wrapped around his forearm. She has her dyed blonde hair pulled back from a round face, making it easy to see her thin lips pinched together. The man looks like any military movie drill sergeant with buzzed hair and steely eyes.
They have to be the Fosters.
I almost jump up and introduce myself, even consider kneeling and kissing Holly’s feet. But I don’t do that because Mr. Foster looks like a man who throws punches first and asks questions never. Better wait for the doctors to call us in.
I’ve no idea if they’ll even be interested in talking to my cousin, Fred, and me over the next few months. They might be good with a quick hello and then radio silence until surgery day.
The Fosters sit down on the other side of the room in the only two remaining empty chairs.
It’s depressing how crowded the waiting room is. When I got here, I ruled everyone present out as possibly being Holly and her brother. A few older men with varying shades of gray hair are scattered around. An elderly woman sits with a young girl, clasping her hand and holding tight to a rosary. A father whispers in Spanish to his preteen boy. A guy with darker skin, who I’d guess is in his thirties, has a sketchpad propped in his lap. And then a young woman sits on her own, next to Holly.
Staring at the two people I’ve been waiting for, while creepy, makes sense. Staring at the mystery girl beside them is only reasonable if you ask my dick for input.
She has a textbook on her lap, and she taps the end of a highlighter on her full bottom lip, like she’s trying to draw attention to it. What man wouldn’t want to get a closer look at that pouty mouth? Of course, I’m making up the invitation. She only has eyes for her book.
Most people here are obviously sick. It’s in the way their skin looks or a smell they have. Or the fear mixed with depression on their faces.
This girl should be on a billboard advertising health. And swimsuits.
Silky brown hair waves slightly, brushes against her cheeks, and ends just below her chin. She’s got on a conservative white blouse, buttoned to her slim throat. I want to pop a few of those buttons open, see more of that skin flushed with a healthy glow. A black skirt covers her to the knees but still lets my eyes trace down her toned calves to where they disappear into a pair of heeled black boots. The whole outfit makes her look like she’s heading into a job interview, but I find the professional look sexy as hell.
I’m curious.
Why is she here? This girl can’t be dying … can she?
A surprising surge of panic has me clenching my hands.
With a deep breath, I push the strange reaction away because it’s not rational. I’ve never spoken to her, so why should I care about her medical issues?
My imagination has too much free rein when I’m stuck in these uncomfortable situations. Like a coping mechanism, to avoid my own problems, I make up fake issues for other people that I can worry about. That has to be it.
I’m being ridiculous. I don’t know why she’s here, who she is, or even what her name is.
She hasn’t even looked at me.
And, like I yelled that thought across the room, my mystery girl glances up from her book, her gaze connecting with mine.
HOLLY
Why did we get here so early?
This is supposed to be a good day, but I’m still a jittery mess. I think it’s these sitting rooms. Maybe the chairs with their poor back support and lack of cushioning or the lighting, always fluorescent. But, really, I think it’s the smell. Brings back bad memories.
I’ve been stuck reading this same page for the last five minutes, trying to focus enough to get the words to stay in my brain.
It’s no use. I’m too excited. Too scared.
Will things finally work out this time?
I glance out the side of my eye to check on Marcus. He grumbled about me staring at him earlier, so now, I have to be covert.
As usual, he’s busy with his designs. Just last year, a prestigious architecture firm in NYC made him a decent job offer. So good in fact that he was willing to leave his beloved Philadelphia to relocate. I might have given him a shove or two, making sure he didn’t let a dream slip through his fingers. I miss him, but at least he’s just a train ride away.
When I’m sure he’s not freaking out, I refocus on my homework for digital marketing. Normally, I’m all about this subject. I carry half of the class participation on my own shoulders.
I still can’t concentrate.
But, this time, it’s not my worries throwing me off. There’s a weird pressure brushing against my skin. Like I’m being watched.
