RISK & REWARD ✔️

13 | 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴

I get inside, I close the door, and, stupid as it may be, a little shiver of flustered excitement runs up my spine.

Slade said she's coming tomorrow. She's never said that. She's making a point to come in tomorrow. She's planning her day and she's planning to come in.

Does she usually? Probably. Does it make me feel special that she's confirming that she's coming in, to me, verbally? Yes. Yes it does.

I practically bounce up the steps to my floor, stupid blushy smile on my face, and the minute I get out of the stairwell I'm immediately met with pale, watery-gray eyes practically on top of mine.

My first thought is the drunk. In less than a second, my brain tears that idea apart; why would he be in my apartment complex? How would he be in my apartment complex? How would he know it's my apartment complex?

The eyes squint, and combined with the dark, thin brow, I recognize Dr. Kensington.

"So that's where you were," she says, tone almost scolding as she looks me over. "Spending half your night with a boy, hmm?"

"What?" My eyes go wide; hers only narrow as she laughs victoriously.

"You are!" Her voice rises slightly. "Caught you red-handed, m-hm — I wondered why you weren't coming home 'till this late — knew it, I did. I did."

"What? Spending — no, no, it's not that!" On one hand, I find it funny that she thinks Slade is a boy. On the other hand, her tone implies that we're...up to something, and considering that she's quite the gossip I do not need that catching the wind. "It's nothing like that, Doctor, really!"

"There's nothing to be ashamed of! Really, dear, it's normal — I used to do it too, you see — so many fresh young faces on the field, and when I wasn't stitching someone up I—!"

"Okay, okay! I don't need to hear all the details!" I have my back to the wall as I try to slink past her, but I have no such luck. She carries on, eagerly recounting her experience on the field.

"They were fine boys, fine boys — always so cocky and charming and such flirts, really — oh, I miss that rush of sneaking out of the tent late at night and going over to the barracks." She laughs at that, practically vibrating at this point. "Tell me! What's his name? What's he like — oh, I do hope you aren't going for one of those mean boys, the ones that Darcy used to — poor Darcy, got her heart broke half a dozen times over — if he ever shouts at you, you leave him, dear, you don't let him..."

"It's not a guy! It's just," and I take a deep breath, well aware that I'm radiating embarrassed heat off of my body at this point, "just a friend, just a friend. That's all."

Dr. Kensington widens her eyes at me, adopting the stance of a sassy pregnant mother. "Just a friend?" she repeats, raising one thinly-arched brow. "I might be old, dear, but I never beamed ear-to-ear like that after staying out late with 'just a friend.'"

"I'm being serious! There's nothing going on, I swear — I just had to stay late, and..."

"It's alright if it's a boyfriend, dear! I've been waiting for someone to get on you, you're—!"

"It's not a boyfriend!" I want to bury my face in my hands as her words spur memories from earlier tonight into my head and set a new edge to them. "It's a friend. That's all. We're just friends. Please, I — I'm so tired, I had to stay at the restaurant late, and..."

Her face softens at that, smile going from triumphantly excited to gently, grandmother-ly reassuring.

"I see. Go get some sleep, dear. Wouldn't want you getting too tired — not good for you, not at all — goodnight, goodnight." She pats my shoulder, grinning as she does. "Bring him inside next time, I want to meet the boy who's keeping my dear up—!"