Page 43 of Obeying

Kristen Portland kissed me last night and has been acting like I don't exist ever since.

She's good at it, too. Every time I round a corner, she's already gone. I walk into the residents' lounge, and she walks out. I catch her eye during rounds, and she looks away so fast you'd think I was a solar eclipse. She's mastered the art of being in the same building as me without ever being in the same room, and it's driving me insane.

It shouldn't bother me this much. I'm a department head. I have a surgical team to run, cases to oversee, and a formal complaint to prepare for. I have better things to do than think about a three-second kiss in a parked car outside her house. But I keep thinking about it anyway. The way her hand felt on my face, the way she tasted, even the way she pulled back and couldn't form a complete sentence, then practically fell out of my car. I sat there for a full minute after she went inside, staring at the steering wheel like an idiot.

Today I saw her walking down the hallway, and the second she spotted me, she turned and walked the other direction so fast her lab coat flared out behind her. It would've been impressive if it weren't so infuriating.

The irony isn't lost on me. When she first showed up at this hospital, she was hiding from me because she was afraid I'd recognize her. Now she's hiding from me because she kissed me.

At least there's been some progress.

I'm having a late lunch with Mitchell, but I'm not eating. I'm watching the cafeteria entrance, and I know I look ridiculous, but I can't stop.

"You okay?" Mitchell says, glancing over his shoulder at the door. "You look like you're about to tackle someone coming through there."

"I'm fine. I'm just looking for someone."

Mitchell puts his fork down. "Is it the rival turned resident?"

"No."

"It's the rival turned resident."

"I said no."

"Your mouth said no, but you keep checking the door every eight seconds. I timed it." He takes a sip of his water. "So what happened? Last time we talked, you were 'addressing an institutional injustice.' Did the injustice get worse?"

I don't answer. Mitchell studies me.

"Oh." His eyebrows go up. "Something happened."

"Nothing happened."

"Something definitely happened. You've got that look."

"What look?"

"The look you get when a case doesn't go the way you planned, and you're recalculating. Except this isn't a case. This is a woman." He leans back. "Did she do something? Say something? Don't tell me you guys hooked up or something?"

His question catches me so off guard that I freeze, and that's all he needs.

His eyes go wide. "No way. You did?"

"No. Of course not."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. It's not that."

"Then what is it?" He leans forward. "Because the only reasons a woman avoids a man like she's dodging a missile are: she hooked up with him, she owes him money, or he did something unforgivable." He studies me. "You don't look guilty. She's not the type to borrow money, so that leaves option one."

"Mitchell, I'm telling you, nothing happened."

"And I'm telling you, your face is doing something your mouth disagrees with." He grins. "But fine. Nothing happened. You're just staring at the cafeteria door for no reason. Very normal behavior."

I rub my forehead. This man is exhausting.

"Well, whoever you're looking for isn't going to come near you when you look like that." He gestures at my face.