by Isabel Morin
Then again, he’s holding me like he wants me here.
That thought settles me down a bit, and I take a few moments to appreciate lying here surrounded by his warmth,
Then I remember I have my period. Please don’t let there be blood on Casey’s sheets, I pray, slipping out from under his arm to scoot down to the foot of the bed.
Casey stirs and lifts his head. “Hannah?”
“I have to go,” I whisper. “Go back to sleep.”
He must not be really awake, because he doesn’t say anything else. No man has ever looked sexier or sweeter than Casey does at this moment, and a rush of possessiveness takes me by surprise.
I grab the pillows I was using—one of which is his—and open the door. I hear him stir behind me, then the rustle of bedding as he turns over.
I make it to my door and let myself in, careful not to make any noise, and breathe a sigh of relief when I get to my own room without incident. I make a quick trip to the bathroom, then fall into bed, my head on the pillow I stole from Casey. All night the scent of tea tree shampoo perfumes my dreams.
Chapter Fifteen
I don’t see Casey again until Saturday, when I run into him in the lobby of the dorm. I’ve just finished my shift at the health clinic, and he’s dressed for a rugby game, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. My mouth practically waters looking at him.
“Hey, Hannah,” he says, and I could swear he flushes a little.
If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think he was feeling shy about the other night.
“Hey.”
People are coming and going around us, but since it’s broad daylight and we’re not doing anything we shouldn’t be, I decide not to worry about it.
“Who are you playing?” I ask.
“Brown. We crushed them last time,” he says, looking smug. But smug is actually a pretty good look for him.
“I hope you do it again. Crush them, I mean.”
“You should come to the game.”
I imagine myself sitting in the bleachers, cheering for him. No one would know I was cheering for him as long as I didn’t shout his name. Seeing him in action would be amazing.
“I was going to prep for my interview, but I suppose I could do that later.”
“That’s in Baltimore, right? How are you getting there?”
“I’ll take a Zipcar in the morning and come straight back.”
“Is someone going with you?”
“Everyone’s too busy, but I can manage.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“Seriously?”
“Sure. I already have a Zipcar membership, and I like road trips. Besides, it would suck for you to do it all by yourself.”
I try to think whether a trip like this could get back to Jen in any way. We’ll be getting in a car and driving to another state, so I don’t see how it could affect her, and it would be a huge help to me. Besides, I want his company. It would be amazing to have so much time with him, rather than the few snatched hours we get here and there.
“I would love it if you came,” I say, “but I don’t want you to feel like you have to or anyth—”
“Hannah.”
Shivers run down my spine at the way he says my name in that low, quiet way.
“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it.”
“Right, okay. I mean, thank you. That’s really generous of you.” My gaze drifts down over his snug blue jersey to where his thighs show beneath his shorts.
“Hannah.” He’s laughing.
I look up. “Huh?”
“I was asking what time we’re leaving on Friday.”
“Oh. The interview is at eleven, so I was thinking five o’clock. But if that’s too early…”
“If that’s when you want to leave, that’s when we’ll leave.”
And then he flashes me one of those drop-your-knickers smiles that I will never, ever get used to.
I head up to my room, and a little while later Audrey comes back.
I stick my head into the common room. “Want to go to the rugby match?”
“Um, I guess so. I haven’t been to one in a while.” She gives me one of her looks. “You’re going so you can creep on Casey, aren’t you?”
“Maybe, but I’m friends with Derek and Josh, too. It’ll be fun, as long as no one gets a concussion.”
“Oh my God, you’re too much.”
Audrey calls Jen, so the three of us end up going together. I forgot how fun going to a game—any game—can be. We buy hotdogs and caramel popcorn and yell every time our guys make a good play.
I have heart palpitations at the sight of Casey running down the field, his thighs churning. By the end he’s filthy and sweaty and smiling victoriously. If I had him all to myself, I’d throw him to the ground and climb on top of him.
I’m smiling as I glance over at Jen and Audrey. Audrey’s clapping and hooting like the normal fan she is, but Jen’s gaze is trained on Casey and she has an odd, pained look on her face.
“Want to get going?” I ask.
I don’t wait for an answer. Before they can say a word I’m already climbing down the stands and heading toward the gate, walking as fast as I can without actually running. I don’t slow down until I pass the concession stand.
I make myself breathe while I wait for Audrey and Jen.
Audrey looks annoyed when she reaches me. “What was that all about?”
“Nothing. I have a lot of work to do, that’s all.”
She doesn’t buy it, but she lets it go.
“We should do this more often,” Jen says.
Neither Audrey nor I say a word.
…
I see Casey at lunch on Monday as usual, but I don’t have a chance to talk to him. A couple of his friends eat with us and monopolize his attention, so I mostly talk to Trace and Josh. We’re so busy with midterms that we barely see each other the rest of the week. I’m at the library most nights, plus the high holidays fall this week.
I’ve always found the services comforting and familiar, but not this year. The Thursday before my interview is Yom Kippur, and I’m pretty sure I should be atoning for going behind Jen’s back. There’s no specific sin for fooling around with a guy your friend likes, but it definitely falls under lying.
I text Casey when I get home Thursday night to make sure he’s still up for the drive tomorrow. He writes back immediately. Of course! See you at 5.
A week ago, I was dreading everything about this trip, but now that he’s coming with me, I’m actually looking forward to it. I’m as prepared as I’ll ever be for my interview, and I get to spend the whole day with Casey. Granted, we’ll have our clothes on the whole time, but at least I don’t have to worry about other people seeing us.
It feels like the middle of the night when I knock on his door Friday morning. He answers looking like he woke up mere moments ago, his sleepy eyes lighting up at the steaming coffee I hold out to him.
“Thank God,” he says, looking at the cup with worshipful eyes.
“I have muffins, too.” I hold up the white paper bag. “Pumpkin chocolate chip and blueberry from Neil’s. Plus a couple of doughnuts.”
“You went all the way to the bakery?”
“It’s the least I can do. Ready to go?”
He ducks into his room, coming back with his wallet and black pea coat.
“All set.”
It’s dark and cold, and we shiver as we get into the Ford Focus I parked outside the dorm.
“I’ll take first shift,” I say, and he doesn’t argue.
Technically it should take only four hours to get to Baltimore if we don’t stop at all, but we’ll obviously need bathroom breaks, and on top of that we’ll be hitting rush hour traffic somewhere in Pennsylvania.
“Any req
uests?” I ask as I plug my phone in.
“Anything but death metal.”
He dozes off almost immediately, leaving me to run through the many possible interview questions and answers in my head. It’s an easy enough drive into New York at this hour, so I pretty much cruise along in my own head. An hour in we make a pit stop and I buy us more coffee.
Even a second cup doesn’t keep Casey awake, though. He zonks out again, coming to a little while later during someone’s rage-filled honking on route 83.
“This is pleasant.”
“I know, right? Nothing but a barrel of laughs with me.”
He pulls out his phone and looks at the traffic app. “Red line for another couple miles.”
I reach into the back seat and grab the bakery bag. “Eating will make it all better.” I savor my chocolate chip muffin as traffic inches forward. “Can you imagine if this was your commute every morning?”
“That’s one good thing about working at Fortify. It’s an easy commute on BART.”
“I’ve been trying to imagine what your dad’s like, and I keep coming up with a corporate guy in a gray suit who eats underlings for breakfast.”
He laughs. “If he was really like that, I wouldn’t mind disappointing him. Unfortunately, he’s pretty great.”
“Couldn’t you talk to him, then?”
“Believe me, I’ve thought about it.” He sighs. “I can’t help thinking that I could break my dad’s heart and then not even get into an architecture program.”
“I guess that could happen. But even if you didn’t get in at first, you could keep trying.”
“Fortify is a sure thing, though, and the work is really cool. It’s just that it feels like my whole life is planned out for me, and it’s not my plan.”
“What about your mom? Does she know you don’t want to join the company?”
“She asked me once or twice in high school if it’s what I really wanted, but ever since I started college it’s been assumed, and I haven’t done anything to make them think I changed my mind.”
“Do you have any brothers or sisters who’d step in?”
“My sister worked there for a couple of summers, but she hated it. She’s planning on becoming a marine biologist.” He sounds proud, and a little wistful, too. “If she’d wanted to work with my dad, I’d have come clean.”
I shouldn’t be asking about this when he’s trapped in a car with me. I probably shouldn’t be asking at all, seeing as how it always bums him out. But it seems odd that he would double major in architecture—which makes his life so much harder—if he’s not going to do anything with it. He’s preparing for a life he’ll never get to have.
“I was always jealous of kids who had brothers and sisters,” I say, redirecting the conversation. “You all have a built-in friend for life.”
“If you’re lucky. Plenty of people hate their siblings. When we were younger, I wanted a brother and she complained about not having a sister.”
“But you like her now, right?”
“Yeah. She’s a pain in the butt, but we’re cool.”
I look over and see him smiling to himself. “What?”
“I was just remembering how we finally stopped picking on each other after I caught her going at it with Sara Kennedy.”
“When you say going at it…”
“Like making out on the living room couch when she thought no one was home. Sara took off before I could say anything, and my sister was so upset she cried and begged me not to tell anyone. Poor kid.”
“What did you do?”
“At first, I stood there like an idiot. She almost never cried, so it kind of freaked me out. The whole thing did, to be honest. I mean, who wants to see their sister kissing someone? But I gave her a hug and she calmed down.” He pauses, like he’s remembering. “I just didn’t want anyone giving her a hard time.”
“Did they?”
“Nah. We live in Berkeley. When she finally came out her senior year, no one did much of anything.”
“I could have used a brother like you,” I say. I can feel him looking at me, but I keep my eyes on the road.
Thirty-six minutes and two agonizing miles later I pull into a rest stop, where we take a bathroom break and switch places. Back in the car I look at Google maps. “It looks pretty good from here on out. I think we’re through the worst of it.”
He backs the car out of our spot. “From your lips to God’s ears.”
“You sound like my mother.”
He gives me a look of fake horror, and then we’re back on the highway, heading south toward what may or may not become my home for the next four years.
We arrive at the medical campus in east Baltimore with an hour to kill and find a metered spot not too far from the School of Medicine. We climb out of the car, both of us stretching after the long drive.
“Where to?” Casey asks.
“Um, let’s see.” I open Yelp and do a quick scan. “There’s not a ton around here, but there’s a coffee shop a few blocks away.”
“Sounds perfect.”
What I see of the neighborhood as we head there leaves me discouraged. All the medical facilities are on campus, and outside of that the area seems pretty rundown.
“My mom was worried about me living around here. I guess maybe it is kind of sketchy. Then again, I’d pretty much be on campus every minute of my life, so maybe that doesn’t matter.”
“I guess.” He doesn’t look convinced. “Where else did you apply?”
“University of San Francisco, UCLA, and Harvard. They all have great internist programs.”
“If your San Francisco interview’s over winter break, let me know. You could stay with me in Berkeley and I’ll show you around the city.”
I’m so floored by his casual offer I don’t say anything, but he’s too busy looking for the coffee shop to notice.
Casey gets a coffee and bagel, but I’m too nervous to eat. I’m also way over-caffeinated, so I get a juice and grab us a table.
“When will you find out if you get in?” he asks as we sit.
“It could be any time after January.” Anxiety knots my stomach at the thought of all I have to get through before my life is settled. “Do you mind if I review my notes?”
“Go for it,” he says, pulling out his phone.
“I really appreciate you doing this for me.”
“I don’t mind not talking.”
“I mean getting up at the crack of dawn just to sit around and wait for me.”
“I like hanging out with you.” His gaze is clear and direct, and for a second it seems like he’ll say more.
I look down at my notes, and the moment passes.
As usual when Casey’s around, I have trouble concentrating on anything other than him. Luckily, I really do know all this stuff. It’s not like I have to memorize formulas, after all. I’m supposed to be sharing my own thoughts and views, my reasons for applying. I’m not about to forget those things, and I’ve prepared to within an inch of my life.
At ten thirty I close my notebook and look up. “I guess I should head over. I’d like to be a little early.”
“I’ll walk you.”
“You don’t have to do that. It’s not far.”
“Still.”
Funny, this is the first time I’ve seen this set look of his. I kind of like it.
“Okay, sure.”
We take the long way to school to see more of the campus, passing the Children’s Center and School of Nursing, the School of Public Health. I’ve been dreaming and planning for this for so long, I can’t believe I’m really here. I made it happen. Now I just need to take it the rest of the way.
“You ready?” Casey asks, squinting in the sun as we reach my building.
“As I’ll ever be.”
“
I’m going to walk around a bit. Text me when you’re done.”
I nod, my throat too tight to get words out.
“Hey, you’re gonna kill this thing. Who’s better than you?”
It may be the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.
I give him a jaunty salute. “See you on the other side.”
As soon as I walk away, I realize what a calming influence he was having on me, because now my heartbeat increases with every step I take, and my stomach roils. Typical fight-or-flight response. A civilized interview is not quite as threatening as a bear chasing me, but my body doesn’t know the difference.
I tell myself that’s it’s only my nerve endings releasing norepinephrine, making my heart beat faster and my breathing fast and shallow. As usual, thinking it through rationally calms me, and by the time I get inside and find the admissions office I’m more in control of myself. My voice is almost normal when I give my name to the receptionist, who tells me to take a seat and asks if I want any water.
I stop off at the bathroom, where I reapply my blush and smooth my hair out. I’m the only one in the waiting area, a gray-carpeted lounge with the same magazines you’d find in a doctor’s office—Time, National Geographic, Entertainment Weekly. Sitting there in the silent room, I try to wipe my mind of anything but how much I want to be a doctor. I imagine myself as a resident in a white coat by a patient’s bedside and walking the halls of a hospital. A montage of me getting everything I’m hoping for.
“Ms. Bloom?” The receptionist is standing in front of me. “They’re ready for you. Come with me.”
My stomach churns as I follow her down the hallway and into a small conference room. Three men and two women smile at me from their seats at a long table and take turns introducing themselves. Four of them are on the faculty, and one of the men is from admissions.
Most of their questions are ones I’ve prepared for, and they’re all good ones and worth thinking about. I was prepared for an interrogation, but it’s more like the conversations I’ve had with my professors and advisors, only a bit more specific and directed.
They want to know where I’m coming from, what I’m looking for out of a medical career. They’re trying to judge if I have what it takes to get through four insanely demanding years. They smile and nod and take notes and ask me more questions. A few are about ethics and are a bit trickier, but I expected that, and I think I do okay. At the end I ask a few questions about internships and research opportunities. When we’re done, they all shake my hand and wish me a good trip back.
