“I saw your name on the board when I came in, but, honey, where are you?”
“I left.”
“Obviously. Do you know you can’t just take out an IV and walk out of a hospital?”
“Oh no?”
“Jory, you’re—”
“I’m fine.”
“Jory, you’re hurt worse than you think, honey. You can’t be alone right now. Tell me where you are. Are you home?”
No, I wasn’t home, I thought, and wanted to yell it at him. Because for whatever reason, as it always did, his voice had gone from sounding sultry and sexy to whiny and needy in a heartbeat. And it wasn’t Nick, I knew it wasn’t Nick…it was me. I just didn’t respond well to begging or pleading or anything that sounded weak or clinging. I responded to power and dominance and demands for my time and my body. The gentle, sensitive guy did nothing for me. I was a mess, but realizing that did nothing to prevent my honest reaction.
“Jory…honey…can I come pick you up?”
“No,” I said as I started shaking. I was so cold. “I’m gonna call somebody, Nicky, don’t worry.”
“But I do worry. You have a concussion, and you’re bruised and battered, and I really need to—”
“But I’m all right.”
“Honey, I’m afraid you’re gonna pass out and—”
“I’ll be okay,” I assured him. “I’ll call ya later.”
“No, no, no. Jory, baby, just tell me where you are, I’ll pick you up, and you can come home with me and—”
“How ’bout I call you tomorrow?”
“Jory, whatever you’re mixed up in, I can handle it. Please, baby, let me take care of you.”
“Nick, I—”
“Jory.” He sighed deeply. “I am crazy about you. I think about you all the time.”
“You do?”
“Yes. God yes. I just… You need to give me some of your time. I know I’m not as exciting as whatever else is going on in your life, but, Jory, I’m good for you. I want to be with you.”
It was hard to breathe suddenly, partly because I was turning into a Popsicle and the rest because brutal honesty wasn’t usually my gig. I favored the disappearing act in most cases. “You know, Nick.” I began quickly because it was better to do it like pulling off a Band-Aid—just really fast. “We’ve got no chemistry at all. You know we don’t.”
“Is that right?”
“You know it is.” I winced. This was just as painful to say as it was to hear.
“Well, I think you need to give me another chance to impress you. Because if we’re being honest, being in bed with you was amazing.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m not flattering you, it’s a fact. I didn’t want it to end.”
“That’s nice.”
“Nice? Jesus.” He laughed dryly.
I chuckled because he sounded so deflated.