Page 29 of Stranger to Love

She gave me one last narrowed look, then got out of the car. I watched her walk around to my side. If she told me she owned this street, I’d believe her. She opened my door, and I stepped out into the cool air, grabbing my bag.

We stood there for a brief, loaded moment. I realised I had to fully look up to meet her eyes; my head barely reached her shoulder.

She raised an eyebrow at my silence, and I chuckled. “Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s rude to stare.”

She rolled her eyes, turning back toward the driver’s side. I couldn’t help myself. “You know you were staring too, right?”

She halted at the car door, casting an incredulous, sharp glance over her shoulder. “Goodnight, Alex.”

“Goodnight, Dr. Carter,” I replied.

I tightened the strap of my bag and started walking down the pavement. I didn't go far, not wanting her to see where I was actually heading. Pulling out my phone, I pretended to type. It had become a habit, until I heard the sleek purr of her engine drift away into the night.

***

Well, what a fucking month.

I slept way too long on Saturday. I woke up to find my mum in the kitchen, having one of her bad days, desperately trying to force herself to stand and put a dinner together for me before I went to work. She couldn’t even lift the bag of pasta.

I raced to her side, gently taking it from her hands. “Mum, seriously, you should have woken me.”

Her lip trembled. “I know, I’m sorry. I thought I was having a good day.”

The sadness in her eyes was heartbreaking. I guided her into the living room, tucked her into the worn sofa with a blanket, and made her a simple bowl of buttered pasta. Mentally, she was as sharp as ever, but the chronic pain had been slowly chipping away at her for years. It hurt to see the woman who used to fight the whole world for me reduced to tears by a bag of groceries.

As she watched daytime TV, I checked my phone. Mia had texted:

Mia: I remember why I fucking hate this guy. (02:21)

Mia: I literally had to get myself off after he dropped me off. (02:22)

Mia: He came in two minutes, Alex. Two fucking minutes!! (02:23)

I smirked, texting back a reassurance that we’d find her someone better during our shift that night. Mia and I had a perfect line between us—we'd drunkenly made out before, but it always ended in fits of laughter. She was my best friend, and her chaotic energy was exactly what I needed to distract me.

I kissed Mum goodbye and barely caught the bus. When I arrived at The Dam, Mia was practically vibrating.

"You look way too happy to be here," I noted, throwing my bag into the staffroom.

"Have you realised the date?" she squeaked. "It’s Bonfire Weekend! And the fair is in the next town over!"

I grinned, high-fiving her. That meant the chaotic student crowd would be drinking in muddy fields or at the fairgrounds. That night would be working professionals—way more our speed.

"Speaking of last night..." I nudged her hip as we walked out to the bar. "I got a lift home."

Mia was the ultimate audience. As I recounted the story—the alleyway assault, Dr. Carter flooring the guy, and her promise to pick me up that night—Mia gasped and slapped my arm in perfect synchronisation.

“What the fuck, Alex!” she squeaked as the doors opened.

“Trust me, I have no idea,” I shook my head.

The shift was steady and mature. Around midnight, a woman walked in who looked like a headmistress I’d happily beg for a detention with. Rich brown hair, sharp features, tight jeans, and a confidence that filled the room. Damn those jeans. She smirked at me as I poured her wine, and a sudden heat flooded my body. But as our eyes met, Dr. Carter’s severe face flashed into my mind, and my usual swagger faltered.

Mia hip-bumped me. “Oh, that one. Definitely that one.”

I nodded, but groaned internally. Why was I hesitating? I hadn’t slept with anyone since Billie, but normally I’d be all over an older woman like that. Dr. Carter was thoroughly messing with my head. The memory of her hand gripping my chin the night before sent a literal shiver down my spine. I took a double shot of vodka just to numb the nerves.

An hour later, 'Jeans' came back to the bar. I leaned across the counter, locking eyes. “Another large wine?”