“Mmmm. Barbecue.” I giggled as I licked a smudge of sauce from the corner of his lips. But he still looked down at me expectantly.
I smiled. “Yes, of course that’s right. You’re the only one whose shirt I want to be taking off.”
“Speaking of that, I want to show you something.”
Then, right there in the middle of his living room, Hawk pulled off his shirt, tugging it off over his head and shaking his hair out afterward in that way that always made me want to tackle him.
It was then that I saw the small square of gauze right under his collarbone.
I gasped. “What happened to you?”
He smiled as he pulled the gauze away, looking at me softly. “It’s a new addition.” There, worked into the other tribal symbols at the top of his bicep, was a fresh tattoo of a kangaroo.
“It’s my Joey.”
“For me?” I fought the catch in my throat. Play it cool, Jo.
I heard about girls whose boyfriends got tattoos for them. This was serious — really serious. Basically, for a guy to get a tattoo representing you? He had to be in love with you.
He dipped his head, peering at me through dark eyelashes. “Don’t freak out, Jo. It’s for you, yeah, but it’s important to me no matter what.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it may be a Joey, but it still has a meaning all its own. The kangaroo means always moving forward, never moving backward. You’ve done that for me. I’m not dwelling on shit that I used to. That…” He swallowed and looked down as he replaced the dressing. “That means a lot.”
“I can’t believe you did that,” I whispered. “I…I love it, Hawk. Thank you.”
I stood up on tiptoes and kissed him, long and slow. He ran his hands through the hair at the back of my neck, threading it through his fingers.
I made a small noise of pleasure deep in my throat, and he pulled my waist to his. I felt exactly how badly he wanted me to stay, pressing right there into my stomach. I broke the kiss, whimpering as he sucked on my lower lip gently before I did.
I knew I had to go — rounds were in a little over an hour — but with that kiss, desire for Hawk, to be as near to him as possible, to show him exactly how much I loved that tattoo, washed through me, possessing me. My fingers inched along the front of his waistband as his hands pulled in to cup my jaws, cradling me like I was a jewel, a precious artifact. I’d never been more sure about the way a guy felt about me, and it translated to pure need to let him know, in as many ways as possible, that I felt the same way — that I wanted him for exactly who he was, no more and no less.
The moment I had his jeans unzipped and my hand surrounded his hot length, making him moan, I was hungrier than I’d ever been. Not just to taste him or to have him inside me. No, I was hungry to give him the kind of release and freedom and mindlessness that he’d given me, so many times in so many ways.
As his jeans and boxers fell to the floor, I fell to my knees, and with half a step backward, he leaned against the wall. "Joey," he rasped, “do you want to move to the bed?”
I shook my head, licking my lips. "I can’t wait." I looked up at him with huge, innocent eyes. "Can you?" And then I flicked my tongue out and swirled it around his tip lightly. He let his head fall against the wall with a thud, and I giggled softly as I took him in my mouth.
He released a long, low moan, bracing himself against the wall, and I went to work, licking and sucking and teasing, until his fingers tangled in my hair, winding it tighter the deeper I took him.
"Christ, Joey," he panted in a deep, growling voice. Satisfaction rushed through me at having caused Hawk to lose his mind at my touch. I wanted to be exactly the person he wanted to keep with him as part of that tattoo forever — the one who always made him want to look forward, never back.
Because this was my new beginning, too.
All of a sudden, his fists loosened, his fingers working their way out of my half-tangled strands to brush down my neck, then grip my shoulders and tug my body upward so that we stood face-to-face. His fingers brushed lightly down my cheek, and he kissed me so tenderly, his lips clinging to mine, so slow to break away that I thought my heart would break.
But in the next instant, all his gentility fell away. In one smooth motion, Hawk pushed my pants down to the floor, wrapped his strong hands around my ass, and hoisted me up, spinning around and pinning me to the wall. My thighs instinctively wrapped tight around him. He pressed, hard and hot, against me, and we both trembled. Every muscle in my body was charged with just one purpose — get as close to him as possible, in as many ways as possible.
I thought I would die of need.
His breath blew hot into my neck. "Do you want to stop to get something?"
I whimpered. "I’m on the pill, and I’ve…ah…" Words nearly failed me at the incredible sensation of knowing that I was seconds away from the mind-blowing contact my body craved.
He responded with a gruff laugh. "I’m tested and in the clear. Nobody but you since we met. You too, right?"
"Yes," I said with a moan of relief. Then, in one all-consuming instant, he was inside me, thrusting needily, like he’d been waiting an eternity to find someone he fit so perfectly with. Because we did — fit perfectly. Every look, every touch, every sound was exquisite. Instead of satisfying me, every touch left me starving, desperate for more of his skin against mine, more of his lips and tongue and hands taking advantage of every possible point of access.
Our bodies pressed so close that the delicious tension began to build sooner than usual, but something about the hard-and-fast of this time felt so right — probably because that was exactly how I was falling for Hawk.
He lifted me up and pulled me down over him again and again, closing his eyes and pressing his face into my neck, panting with each desperate stroke, like he was savoring every second and dying for the next at the same time. His fingers dug into my skin, pulling me impossibly closer to him the faster he went. I couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think of anything but the incredible orgasm barreling toward me, ready to consume me completely. My nails dug into his shoulders, my head fell back, and I let out a throaty cry as the wave of pleasure crashed over me and my body clenched around his. Then he shouted out, too, and with one final, solid thrust, let his forehead fall on my shoulder.
We both fought for breath for a few seconds, and then the gasping turned to exhausted laughter.
He lowered me slowly, one foot at a time, but I remained pressed against the wall. He cupped my jaw in his hand and pulled my face to his for another long, lingering kiss, a promise that this wasn’t the last time we’d be doing something that amazing.
"Being with you is so easy," he murmured when we finally broke apart, pulling his boxers and jeans back into place while I did the same with my clothing.
"Nah," I said, brushing one more kiss against his lips. "I hassle you about stupid sorority stuff. And ties."
"I will go to a thousand date nights — "
I smiled. "Date parties."
"Whatever. I will do all of it if I still get to take you home afterward."
My heart jumped. Given the crazy sex we’d just had, it’d be easy to take his words at face value — that we were having fun screwing around and that we enjoyed each other’s company, not much more. But the gentle tone of his voice combined with the adoring way his eyes sparkled into mine told me he meant something different.
In that instant, I knew that I wanted to always come home to him, too, and not just in the sexual sense. This was definitely more than a fluke-of-a-fling and an impromptu tattoo — it was more real than any feeling I’d ever have. But something kept me from putting the itchy, persistent emotion working its way through my heart into words.
“So, um…” I said. “The tattoo…does it still hurt?”
Hawk scoffed. “Please. It was no big deal compared to some of that huge work I had done. Plus,” he said, “it was worth every second. I’m glad you’ll always be w
ith me.”
My heart skipped and stuttered nearly out of control. No guy had ever said anything like that to me. I didn’t know what to say, so I just smiled and buried my face in his shirt. “Thank you,” I mumbled, smiling. After about a minute, I stood back. “I have to go to rounds.”
“What for? You hate those.”
“I don’t know, Hawk. Something has to help me get into med school, and ’it’s not gonna be my Orgo grade. O’Donnell offered me Saturday rounds, and I hear those are different. It’ll be good for me.”
Hawk yawned. “Let me drive you there.”
“On your bike? As cold as it is?” The truth was, I hated that damn bike being a main mode of transportation in the winter. I sighed. “Nah, you’re exhausted. The bus’ll be fine. If you want, you can watch till I catch it. The stop’s right there.”
“I know. But won’t you feel creepy if I’m watching you wait for the bus?”
I zipped up my coat and shoved the last book into my backpack. Then I flashed a smile up at him. “Why would I feel creepy about my boyfriend watching me get on the bus?”
I walked the few feet over to the door, and he caught my fingers.
“Who said I was your boyfriend?” he murmured, kissing me again.
“You did. Sort of. You said ‘the other girls’ boyfriends.’ So…congratulations.”
“Mmmm. You’re lucky I have no complaints.”
“Yeah. I have no complaints at all. Especially because now it’s your move.” I waggled my eyebrows.
“You’re bringing that up from all those weeks ago?”
“Yep. Took me awhile, but I’m taking my move now.”
My heart swelled with happiness as I pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, then his nose. “I can’t believe you got a tattoo for me,” I murmured against his neck.
“It’s a reminder for me. It’s just…about you.” Hawk smirked, kissing me one more time, and letting me tug him to his door. Hawk blew out a long, low breath. “I’ll see if I can get someone to cover for me. For that date party or whatever.”
I looped my arms lazily around his waist. I planted one more long, lingering kiss on his lips.
“No tie, no problem,” I said, not really wanting to leave. He closed his eyes, smiled, and kissed me once more on the nose before I was out of there.
The bus dropped me right in front of Children’s with three minutes to spare. I practically sprinted into the hospital and even took the stairs so I wouldn’t be late. I reported to the nurses’ station, just like I had the first week, and waited. In the TV shows about doctors, one of the doctors was always thumbing through a medical chart while they waited for something, but I’d learned the hard way that the nurses did not take kindly to stupid pre-med students messing up their charts. I stared at the clock and watched the minutes tick by. When it was three past noon, I knew something was up. Doctor O’Donnell was never late. To anything.
The only nurse at the desk was the head charge nurse, and I knew she could be kind of snarky. But I didn’t really have any choice.
“Um….have you heard…I’m just waiting for…”
The nurse looked bored, rolled her eyes, and said. “Doctor O’Donnell? She moved rounds two hours earlier today. Sent you an email?”
I just stared at her blankly. Shit. Shit shit. ’Even though it had never been expressly spoken, I could guess that completely missing rounds with Dr. O’Donnell would not be met with a ton of tolerance.
“Thanks,” I mumbled as I headed back to the elevators, already mentally composing my apology email. I needed to get better about checking it on my phone. It was just that when I was with Hawk, everything else kind of disappeared. And now…who knew if she would even let me come back to rounds or shadow her?
I couldn’t believe I’d been so stupid.
The elevator doors slid open with a low sigh that made them sound as weary as I felt. I stepped toward them without even looking up and crashed headlong into the same girl I’d seen with the rolls of duct tape and storybooks a few weeks before. This time she was carrying story books, which I knocked all over the ground.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” I scrambled to pick up the books.
She laughed. “It’s no big deal. You actually wouldn’t believe how much that happens.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “It’s a depressing place, I guess, and people get kind of dazed.”
“It’s Andi, right?”
She nodded and stuck out her free hand.
“I’m Joey. I’m pre-med at Temple. Doctor O’Donnell lets me shadow her sometimes. Or used to. I just missed rounds.”
Andi sucked in a breath. “Yeah, that’s rough. I’m doing some Child Life Specialist work here.”
“Is that, like, a volunteer thing?”
She laughed. “I know it looks like tons of fun, but no, it’s a career. This is my practicum, so I’m here forty hours a week. We help patients and their families deal with diagnoses and life in the hospital.”
“So, what are you majoring in? Something medical?”
“No, it’s not about the disease itself. It’s about the kid and how he or she deals with it. And the parents and siblings. There are all kinds of different situations. So my major is a double — Child Development and Family Science. Most people do something like that.” Andi leaned against the wall. “You seem interested. Most people think this is crap. Or that I’m a volunteer or a bored preschool teacher or something.”
“No, I think it’s so important. I mean…I know it is. First-hand. I’m actually kind of thinking about it.” I didn’t know where those words had come from since I hadn’t actually thought them. Still, I marveled at their truth. The moment I thought about what it would be like to do this as a job, my head spun with possibility.
“So,” Andi said, “since you missed rounds, do you want to tag along with me? See what it’s about?”
Before I’d gotten here and saw Andi again, all I’d wanted to do was go back to hanging out with Hawk. But now, as soon as she said it, hanging out with a bunch of kids who needed something solid and comforting about their hospital stay seemed like the only thing I actually wanted to be doing.
The stuff Andi had brought with her was amazing — dolls with “windows” showing their inner organs to explain to kids what was happening with their bodies, books about medical procedures, little poems to help the kids calm down when getting blood drawn or breathing with an oxygen mask. We went from room to room giving parents a break; answering their questions about medical devices and pain levels; and playing silly games with the kids, like trash can basketball. We taught them dances to songs. We served a group of siblings ice cream, and Andi led a discussion about what it felt like to have a very sick brother or sister.
I paid close attention to the faces of the kids we saw. All of them seemed better, relieved, more hopeful when we left.
That was what I wanted to do with myself — that was the effect I wanted to have on people.
Too bad that, for Doctor Josephine Daly, every patient would be a number, every condition reduced to a set of diagnoses. I’d be fighting cancer and maybe even curing it, but a big part of me wondered if I couldn’t do better work with these kids when I wasn’t wearing the white coat.
So why was I fighting so hard for the white coat at all?
I took a deep breath and got back on that elevator, eyes straight ahead. The walk from the pediatric oncology floor to Doctor O’Donnell’s office seemed shorter this time, like nothing between those two places mattered in this moment.
Thank goodness the secretary at the front desk recognized me and nodded, saying, “She’s just finishing up some paperwork. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”
Yeah, I wasn’t so sure of that. I smiled my thanks and headed back to her office. My knock on the door was solid and strong. This was one place where I definitely could no longer afford to be timid or afraid of making my own decisions.
Doctor O’Donnell sat at her compute
r, typing notes into the office’s records program. She glanced at me briefly, then her eyes went straight back to the screen. “Come in, Josephine.”
I sat in one of the flower-upholstered chairs, my back ramrod straight. Her fingers flew over the keyboard for several long seconds before she spoke again.
“You’re losing focus.”
Her voice wasn’t angry, wasn’t accusatory. She was just stating facts. Something about the complete lack of emotion in her voice was startling to me. Maybe it was because that was exactly what Mom had said a couple weeks ago. Or maybe it was because she was absolutely right. Hawk had nothing to do with it — it was the endless homework that I didn’t understand and could never grasp, coupled with my intense discomfort whenever the conversation with a cancer patient’s parents shifted from coping mechanisms to medical jargon.
It just didn’t feel like me — didn’t feel like who I wanted to be. At all.
“Success in this field requires laser-sharp focus during all your years of school,” she went on. “The fact that you missed an email about what is perhaps the most important experience of your time in undergraduate classes tells me that this is unimportant to you.”
“It’s not unimportant to me. Not at all, Doctor O’Donnell. I can’t see myself doing anything but working with these kids. Honestly.”
“You’re an adult, Josephine, so I won’t mince words. You’re going to have to decide if pre-med is right for you or choose something different.”
“I know.”
“I had expected Doctor Daly’s daughter to come in to shadow me having already decided that this was for her.”
I had decided. I thought I had. Now, it was more like the trust fund was deciding for me.
“As for your father,” she continued, “I don’t really know what he would say to this.”
“Don’t you think he would say that even if I quit pre-med to work with these kids in another way, I was still helping people?” It was the first time I’d said those words — “quit pre-med” — out loud. It felt like a free space opened up inside me, a space that could be filled with anything.
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