Sticks and Stones

by Susie Tate

  ‘Sure,’ Dylan offered magnanimously. ‘Lead the way boss.’

  There was an awkward pause and Lou looked up to the ceiling, seeking patience.

  ‘I think you’ll find that that is your job young man,’ Dr Hudson finally said and then turned to Lou. ‘Seeing as “The Orthopod” has turned up empty-handed, other than novelty items, I’m hoping that you have a patient list underneath that magazine.’ Lou glanced down at her copy of ‘Hello’ and cringed, the ward round was turning into a complete disaster and they hadn’t even seen a single patient yet.

  ‘It’s not for-‘ Lou started, gesturing at the magazine, but was cut off by Dr Hudson.

  ‘Didn’t I already say I wasn’t interested in excuses?’ she said sharply. Dylan shifted next to Lou uncomfortably and shot her an apologetic look. Lou closed her eyes for a moment in frustration. He knew he was supposed to print the list. It was about the only job she actually entrusted to him. Would it be so hard just to do his job and help her for once? She understood that he hated elderly care, or rather, hated anything that didn’t involve his hammer and power tools, but couldn’t he make the slightest bit of effort? They were friends after all and this might not have been his chosen career but it was hers.

  Dylan’s happiness mattered to her, weirdly almost as much as her own. It was galling to realize that he couldn’t even muster enough concern for her to arrive five minutes early and print the bloody list out.

  After an embarrassing wait, whilst the ward computer took the requisite five hundred years to splutter to life and produce a list of patients, they started the ward round. Lou’s irritation was gradually ratcheting up higher, as by the fifth patient she realized that Dylan’s idea of note taking today appeared to consist of the date, an odd word or two (one note entry merely read ‘poorly’) and his scrawled signature.

  The referral cards he was filling out weren’t much better either, with the clinical information on a gastroenterology referral consisting of ‘dodgy tum’. He was smirking as if it was all a huge joke as Lou ran around like a blue-arsed fly sorting everything out. Unfortunately this meant she missed loads of what Dr Hudson was saying and kept having to make her repeat herself (something it was clear that Elaine Hudson did not enjoy doing).

  By the time they made it to the last two patients Lou was completely frazzled. Mrs Jones had finally been decontaminated of MRSA and was on the ward next to Mrs Talbot. The two of them had been having a great time as they seemed to have found kindred spirits as far as their general disdain for the staff (there was much dark mutterings about ‘illegal immigrants’; they even referred to the New Zealand F2 working on the ward as ‘that one from the colonies’), the level of cleanliness, and above all the food.

  Lou managed to shoot ahead slightly and slip Mrs Jones the copy of ‘Hello’ she’d been carting round with her. This particular issue had an interview with Kylie Minogue that Lou knew Mrs Jones would love. When she was moved onto the ward Mrs Jones made it clear that her ancient telly and video player were coming with her so she could continue to watch ‘Neighbours’ circa 1980s on repeat. Her eyes lit up when she saw Kylie’s face beaming from the front page and she snatched it from Lou, but not without giving her an uncharacteristic small smile.

  ‘Finally a ffwcin* grown up I can speak to,’ Lou looked up sharply as she saw a large red-faced man barreling towards them through the four-bedded bay. She sighed, recognizing him as Mrs Talbot’s son. His rather meek, reed-thin, brow-beaten wife was trailing behind him. ‘I’ve been trying to see the top dog here for two bloody weeks but all I get are these pathetic minions,’ he continued, gesturing to Lou and Dylan. ‘I want to know how the hell you lot think we can pay for carers to come in?’

  ‘Mr Talbot, I’m sorry but I already explained to you that as clinicians we have no influence over – ‘

  ‘Zip it you dumb ast*!’ He threw out his hand towards Lou, but before he could connect she felt herself shifted back behind Dylan’s big frame. Lou could literally feel the menace radiating from Dylan’s body as he leaned into Mr Talbot’s space. She was guessing that ast was welsh for something not too nice, and, with the way he said it, she thought she could take a good stab at the translation. The change from Dylan’s usual persona as the standard relaxed, carefree joker was stark. Despite the other man’s size he was no match for Dylan who towered over him, his Welsh accent thickening in his anger.

  ‘Cau dy ffwcin ceg*!’ Dylan barked and Lou noticed both Mrs Jones and Mrs Talbot suck in shocked breaths. His welsh probably wasn’t S4C pre-watershed material either. Mr Talbot shut his mouth and paled, having belatedly registered the level of Dylan’s anger.

  Dylan leaned into him and started talking quietly, still in welsh. Lou couldn’t decipher any of the words, but she caught the flash of fear in Mr Talbot’s eyes. After Dylan had finished Mr Talbot beat a hasty retreat, dragging his mortified wife behind him. Dylan shifted back to easygoing as soon as Mr Talbot had rounded the corner and smiled at Dr Hudson.

  ‘He’s decided that he’ll make an appointment to discuss things another time,’ he said casually, totally unruffled by the experience, whereas Lou could feel herself shaking. Dr Hudson sighed.

  ‘Well it’s good to see that you’re keeping the patients’ families on side Dr Sands,’ she said sarcastically and turned to Dylan. ‘I know that some people may consider orthopaedic surgeons to be somewhat lower on the evolutionary scale. Despite this I would advise that you handle potentially volatile situations with rather less Welsh obscenity and male posturing, and rather more restrained behaviour and hospital security.’ Dylan shrugged. Dr Hudson rolled her eyes and went back to Mrs Talbot to listen to her chest. Mrs Talbot however was looking at Dylan like he’d hung the moon. She was obviously not her son’s biggest fan. Ignoring Dr Hudson she leaned forward in her bed and pulled Dylan down to her level, grabbing his face in both her hands.

  ‘You’re a twp* bugger,’ she said loudly, ‘but I like you.’ She gave both his cheeks a couple of forceful pats before pushing him away. Dr Hudson went to start examining her again but she shooed her away.

  ‘Tea! Custard creams!’ Mrs Talbot cried dramatically. ‘What kind of hellhole is this place? Are we all to be starved to death?’ Lou eyed Mrs Talbot’s tea, which was only half finished and still steaming slightly, and the crumbs on her plate, and rolled her eyes.

  Chapter 4

  Bittersweet

  Dylan heard himself growl and jerked in surprise. What kind of freak stood around bloody growling at a New Year’s Eve party? He didn’t think he’d ever growled in his life before. Ash was looking at him as though he’d grown an extra head and Dylan didn’t blame him.

  They’d been happily talking about the arthroscopic rotator cuff repair Dylan had managed to skive off to assist Mr Trompeter with (well Dylan had been happy, Ash’s glazed expression may have hinted that he didn’t find the conversation quite as riveting) when Dylan caught sight of Lou talking to Richard-Slimeball-Morris. Her head was thrown back with laughter and she had her hand resting on his chest. Rich was loving it - the creepy git - and Dylan could swear that he’d seen him smell her hair. The fact that watching Lou and Rich engaged in some seriously vomit-inducing verbal foreplay had actually made him growl was another indication that, as far as Lou was concerned, Dylan was losing his ever-loving mind.

  Kiss me, Dylan heard Lou’s voice whisper in his head, and his mind flashed to a vision of her face: lips parted, cheeks flushed, beautiful blue eyes staring up at him with a look of such longing that he felt his chest constrict painfully.

  ‘Goddamn it,’ he muttered savagely, shaking his head to clear it of the image and no doubt further freaking poor Ash out.

  ‘You alright?’ a confused Ash asked carefully. Dylan tore his eyes away from Lou as he heard another peal of her laughter ring through the living room.

  Yet another image flashed into his mind, this time she was laughing into a pillow hysterically before turning back to him, framing his face with her hands and
saying through a wide gorgeous smile, ‘This is why.’

  ‘Why what?’ he’d asked.

  She’d searched his face for a moment before looking into his eyes and whispering, ‘Why it was always you. Always.’

  Christ, what the hell was wrong with him? The weird dreams he’d been having about Lou had started invading his consciousness during the daytime. It was just glimpses of her face as she lay in bed with him, and snatches of conversation. It felt like there was something his mind was reaching for but never quite getting to, and it was driving him nuts.

  Ash looked back over his shoulder in the direction of Dylan’s gaze, then the crazy bastard turned back to Dylan and smiled like a lunatic.

  ‘”Love is blind but jealousy has 20-20 vision”,’ he told him.

  Dylan rolled his eyes, ‘Okay, tell me that you did not just proverb me you weirdo.’ Ash shrugged and continued his freaky smiling.

  ‘I like you crazy Welshmen and your strange courting rituals. It amuses me. I’m glad that you and Lou are going to provide me with entertainment now that Tom and Frankie have finally succumbed to the inevitable.’

  They looked over at Tom and Frankie. Frankie was talking to one of Tom’s buddies, Stuart. Tom was standing behind her with his arms locked around her waist. Dylan didn’t think he’d seen them more than a foot apart all evening.

  Although it was so cutesy that it made Dylan vomit in his mouth a little, he was still glad that it had worked out for them. The gut churning guilt of what he did at Uni to keep them apart had kept him up at night since Frankie had moved here, and at least now it was all out in the open. As he looked at Frankie he realized that even though he felt drawn to her, it wasn’t with the sharp, bittersweet yearning and intensity that it had been back then. He couldn’t say when he’d stopped feeling that overwhelming attraction to her, but now the only pull she seemed to have was as his best friend.

  Please stay with me. Lou’s face and her whispered voice flashed into his mind again. Frustrated, Dylan brought the heels of his hands to his eyes and pressed in, trying to rid himself of the unwanted image. He was definitely losing it. Growling again, he grabbed the bottle of tequila next to him on the kitchen counter. The only receptacle he could find was a wine glass so he poured in a good measure and slammed it back.

  When he’d put the glass back down and was feeling the burn in his throat he looked over towards the living room again and was satisfied to see a slightly disgruntled Rich standing on his own. He followed the direction of Rich’s gaze to see an overexcited Lou jumping up and down on her sky high FMBs, and trying to extract a reluctant Frankie from Tom’s arms. Dylan listened to the sound system for a moment and realized that Lou must have slyly changed the music; ‘Backstreet’s Back’ was now blaring out; she was always a cheese monster.

  He was about to smile at her ridiculous antics, until he realized that every bloke in the room was also staring at her in fascination. In typical Lou fashion she was not wearing casual clothing appropriate for a house party. No, she had decided to wear a skintight, short, backless, red, lace dress that left very little to the imagination, especially whilst she was bouncing all over the place. Shaking his head in disgust at the bloody cheek of all of them ogling his Lou…wait. What? He reached for the tequila bottle again. What was going on? Since when was she his Lou? Men had been staring at Lou and her assets for all the years he’d known her, and he’d never had the urge to punch a wall before.

  Lou seemed to realize that she wasn’t going to win against Tom, and released Frankie huffily. Dylan watched as she spun out onto the makeshift dance floor in the centre of the living room, and started doing what she always did; dance like a psychotic, but sexy, stripper. He saw Rich push off from the wall and start to move towards her, and his control snapped. There was no way he was going to be able to stand by and watch whilst Rich danced with, and likely mauled Lou. Dylan slammed back another shot and pushed past a bemused looking Ash, striding over to catch Lou up in his arms just as she was executing a particularly raunchy but bizarre squatting stripper move.

  ‘Omph!’ she exclaimed as she was hauled up against Dylan’s chest. ‘What the hell are you doing you freak? You’re interrupting my flow.’

  ‘Babes, you do know that this is a house party and not Stringfellows?’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘You’re just jealous of my sick moves.’

  Dylan stifled a laugh. Lou was renowned for her insane dancing. Typical reactions were shock, confusion and possibly arousal (for the men and maybe even some of the women), but he didn’t think that jealousy featured that often.

  As she tried to pull away Dylan pulled her closer and whispered in her ear, ‘Come on babes, stop being chopsy. Dance with me.’ Lou rolled her eyes again, but he could see the small smile that was tugging at her lips as she started swaying in sync with him.

  When he could feel that she had given in he spun he out, twirled her a couple of times and pulled her back in. Lou and Dylan had many years experience dancing together. In their second year of Uni he had convinced her to learn salsa with him at a bar in central London. Things were not progressing at all with Frankie, and he had decided that the way forward was lots of meaningless sex. In his nineteen-year-old brain he equated being able to dance with scoring more chicks, and he was right. He was surprised that Lou had agreed quite so readily to learn with him but it had turned out to be a stroke of genius on his part. They always just clicked when dancing, and he could throw her around effortlessly to great dramatic effect. Back in Uni he’d used their prowess on the dance floor to reel in girls he had his eye on. Turned out that seeing him dance confidently with a beautiful woman was a huge turn on to others, and Lou didn’t seem to mind.

  *****

  Lou let out a hysterical giggle as Dylan spun her faster and faster, and then pulled her back in against his chest. She took a big breath in to inhale his unique, clean scent. When they danced like this she could almost pretend that he was really hers; that they were made for each other. Over the years their moves had become so perfected that the dance itself barely required any conscious thought at all. Lou had learnt simply to appreciate the time she was allowed to be held close to him and shut everything else out, like the fact that there was usually some other willing woman waiting in the wings that Dylan was trying to impress.

  She was used to the bittersweet thrill of being spun around and ultimately pulled back in against his huge frame, and the amazing feeling of his breath against her face as he dipped her down practically to the floor. Unfortunately she was also used to the stinging disappointment when the dance was over, and she lost his warm strong body against hers. Then had to watch from the sidelines whilst he moved in on the unwitting female whom he would have made sure had a front row seat to the proceedings. Lou had always smiled through the pain, sometimes even giving him a cheeky wink and wishing him luck whilst her heart felt like it was breaking inside her chest.

  As Lou landed on her feet after their well-practised finale of ‘the lift’ straight out of dirty dancing, and applause from the onlookers that had congregated around the outskirts of the living room, Lou steeled herself to plaster on a smile and act casual when Dylan made his inevitable swift retreat. However, when she didn’t lose the warmth of his body against hers, she looked up into his eyes and was confused by the weird, intense way he was staring at her. The applause faded but Dylan still held her close to him and searched her face, tucking a lock of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes behind her ear.

  The music changed and he seemed to register where they were. He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the living room as couples piled onto the dance floor. Once out of the living room Dylan led her into a relatively quiet corridor and turned to face her, looking even more confused than Lou felt.

  He tore his hands through his hair then paced away only to pace right back into Lou’s personal space. ‘Lou, I…‘ Lou frowned at him, he never called her by her first name, ‘I…’ He was staring at her mouth. Her lips
were parted and she was still panting slightly from the exertion of the dance, her chest rising and falling rapidly. His gaze dropped to her chest then back up to her mouth before settling on her eyes. She watched as another wave of confusion swept over his gorgeous face before he reached out and cupped her jaw with his hand, smoothing her pink cheek with his thumb.

  Her eyes flared wide as she realized what was about to happen, but she was too late to question it as he crowded her back against the wall, slid his other hand up to the other side of her jaw and kissed her.

  In the back of her mind Lou could hear the faint voice telling her that this was a supremely bad idea, but with his big hands cupping her face, his lips on hers and his scent surrounding her she found it impossible to be anything other than an avid participant in the proceedings. Seconds ticked by with Lou’s heart in her throat as she kissed him back. When they finally broke apart they were both breathing heavily, their foreheads resting against each other.

  ‘Thawasmazin,’ Dylan slurred, and suddenly Lou registered the smell of tequila on his breath. Her belly hollowed and her heart sank into her boots. She wrenched her head away from his grip, hitting the back of it on the wall behind and wriggled out to the side to step away from him.

  The thud of Lou’s head on the plasterboard seemed to sober Dylan somewhat. ‘Shit, babes, you okay?’

  And now she was back to babes.

  Of course.

  *****

  ‘You’re drunk,’ Lou said flatly, backing away further from him, and his brows drew together.

  ‘Well it is New Year’s Eve babes,’ he replied, his voice laced with confusion. What was wrong with him being drunk? Just then, a movement from the stairs caught Dylan’s eye. He swung round to be confronted by a curious little face peeking through the banisters next to them.

  ‘Hi,’ Benji chirped cheerfully, apparently unconcerned that he’d been caught spying on them. ‘What were you guys doing?’