“So what were you asking me?” My chest clenched in dreaded anticipation. Please don’t ask me out again. Please don’t ask me out again. I was getting tired of telling him no. He was more persistent than most guys. I tucked a strand of long dark hair behind my ear and looked at him expectantly.
“There’s this dinner…” He stopped when I took a deep breath and shot him a look. When I didn’t say anything, he continued. “It’s a charity event. My parents participate every year and asked me if I’d attend since they can’t make it down.”
“When?”
“Next week.”
“Dress?”
“Formal.”
“I don’t do those types of events.” To say nothing of the fact that I didn’t have anything to wear that could even remotely be classified as “formal.”
“C’mon, Mia,” he breathed, with a groan. “It’s not like I’m asking you to marry me.”
My back straightened and a tense ball tightened between my shoulder blades. I tried to feel flattered by his obvious attraction, but I truly found it more of a hindrance to our quality study time. “I’m sorry. Please don’t take it personally. I just don’t date.”
He shook his head, blowing out a breath. “And you are never going to end up with anyone if the only guy you ever hang out with is gay.”
I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth. I knew he didn’t mean any harm. He got along well with Heath, actually, had mentioned that Heath could take him easily (kind of a stupid comment because Heath could take out most guys—I was glad to have him on my side).
“What makes you think I’m interested in getting together with anyone?”
Jon sat back, frowning. He was a good study partner and a nice person or I really wouldn’t bother. But this was getting tiresome and I knew I needed to get him to drop his delusion or else start looking for a new study partner.
His face fell and I couldn’t suppress a twinge of regret. I’d never sought to hurt his feelings, so I figured I’d throw him a bone. “How about we go out for a celebratory drink after the test?”
His eyes lit up. He really was a good-looking guy. A guy I could see myself dating, if I dated. But I’d just about made it through all of undergrad without ever dating a single guy. We went out in groups and I’d been asked out here and there before word got out that I wasn’t here for social reasons.
Besides, spending almost all of my spare time playing online computer games and tinkering on my blog tended to kill a social life. And mine had died years ago.
“Okay.” He smiled and took up one of his computer-generated note cards. “Name all oxygen-containing compounds that are also acid derivatives.”
I took a deep breath, hoping that little concession to softness wouldn’t ultimately bite me in the ass. Then I answered the question.
***
The first ring of the phone was included in my dream. I was about to cut into a cadaver during my first year of Gross Anatomy in some nondescript medical school class. I’d placed my scalpel against the skin, ready to cut away the subcutaneous tissues, like I’d read in my books on cadaver dissection, and the corpse began to ring like a telephone.
On the second ring, I was ripped from my dream and so groggy I could hardly place where I was.
I checked the caller ID and fumbled for the receiver.
“Mom,” I breathed, reaching for the clock. Seven thirty a.m. Why did she always insist on calling so early?
“Were you sleeping?”
I cleared my throat. “No.”
“Liar,” she said. “You need to start training yourself to get up early. Doctors don’t keep late hours.”
“Aspiring doctors keep late hours when they have been up half the night studying.”
She sighed. “Well, that’s no good, either. If you end up exhausting yourself by the time that test rolls around, you won’t be worth a single question.”
I rolled my eyes as my head fell back onto the bed. Yeah, that made me feel so much better, Mom. Thanks. I settled my head against my warm pillow. “Why did you call me this fine morning?”
“I want to know if you need any money,” she said lightly.
I gritted my teeth, feeling my jaw bulge just under my cheeks. In my best, light voice I said, “No. I’m just fine…”
“Last night when you weren’t home, I tried calling your cell phone.” Shit. She’d got the recording that said the phone was no longer in service.