You, Love

Chapter 4: Dance Dance

Fallyn was pretty sure that Alex only let her move in with him because he thought she was attractive. Actually, she was totally sure that was why he let her move in with him.

"A redhead," he'd said when she approached him about the apartment, sinking lower into his chair and looking her up and down. "Hot. Okay."

It was sleazy. He was sleazy. But Fallyn had a place to go back to every night— a real apartment, one that didn't get room service. And Alex hadn't tried to make a move on her past that first encounter, so it was fine. Good, even.

On their first morning together, Fallyn woke up an hour and a half before her alarm. She was nervous, but not chronic–headache–nervous, which was a win!

She tried to be as quiet as possible as she got ready. The bathroom was dirty and the kitchen was basically a pantry with a stove in it and peeling yellow wallpaper, but she didn't have room to complain. At least the stove worked— Fallyn was making herself a plate of eggs when Alex left his bedroom.

He emerged, groggy, looked her up and down as he so often did, and went into the bathroom, deciding it wasn't worth it. Fallyn went red— her only defense against being so obviously stared at— and sat down at the kitchen table with a crossword puzzle.

She did her best to eat quickly and wash up before Alex was done. And she did succeed—mostly. Fallyn was putting her plate in the dishwasher when he came out of the bathroom.

"Mornin'," he said. There was toothpaste on the side of his mouth.

Fallyn tried wiping at the side of her own mouth to see if he got the hint. It didn't work. She smiled tightly. "Good morning."

Alex said nothing more, and Fallyn was happy to stay in silence. She got the feeling he wasn't a morning person, which was a little weird for a surgeon. But she wouldn't call him out on it— she just grabbed her crossword puzzle from the kitchen table and made a beeline for her room. She shut the door tightly behind her.

All was well as she got ready for the day. Fallyn could hear Alex moving around the apartment— he wasn't quiet— and, miraculously, he was ready at the same time as her.

They left at the same time. But, while Alex walked out to his car, Fallyn took her cell phone out of her purse to call a cab.

Alex stopped and turned to her. "You don't have a car?"

"No." Fallyn shrugged. It wasn't worth it to drive in New York— she'd taken the bus everywhere. Her license was probably expired.

She half expected him to offer her a ride— they were going to the same place, and she would have offered one to him— but he didn't. He just shrugged and walked to his car: a ratty blue thing, right out of the 70s. Right out of the 70s. He didn't look back as he sped out of the parking lot.

Fallyn called a cab, feeling a little dejected but mostly relieved. It would've been awkward to sit in a car with him anyways. Still, it stung a little sitting in the backseat alone.

And it didn't matter anyways, since they arrived at the hospital at the same time anyways.

Fallyn thought there was no way, since Alex had left like a bat out of hell, while her cab driver had been very safe the whole way to the hospital. But, through some awful miracle, she ended up pulling right next to him.

They made awkward eye contact over Alex's car for just a second before Fallyn scurried around the front of the cab to pay the driver. When she was done, she found— thankfully— that Alex was gone. He was a large shape ambling towards the hospital, and she followed behind at a carefully slow pace. She would not get stuck in the elevator with him.