Pulse

Good morning. Jackass

"What the fuck?"

          My eyes jerk up at the source of the voice. His husky, hoarse voice invades my ears. I can tell he is a native of Boston by his voice, he has that thick Boston accent. I watch a toned and colorful arm reach out towards the IV tubing, clasping around the plastic tubing.

      "No. No don't pull that. Leave it alone." My voice is soft, but authoritative. This is something I have said to patients numerous times. He stops pulling at the clear tubing at my command. I jump up and use my hand to pull him away from the tubing. Electricity jolts through my hand and radiates up my arm as I touch him. I jump back, surprised at the electricity. I look at Asher, confused by what just happened. I can tell by his expression and his eyes that he felt it too. Shit. I knew he was going to be waking up soon, but I didn't think it would be this soon. I was planning on leaving before he woke up. I didn't actually think about what would happen if he woke up while I was here.

Shit. Why did I stay? I should have left. I think to myself. I am mentally cursing myself and what I have gotten myself into. This is what you get Carson for being a stalker. He looks from my hand that was touching his arm a moment ago to my face, then he looks around the room. Confusion is written all over his face. I pull a chair right next to his bed, sitting next to him. My voice is soft. I understand the confusion he is feeling. I remember how frightened I was when I woke up with a concussion when I was twelve, only to learn my parents had passed.

"Do you remember what happened?"

He doesn't speak for several moments. 

"I was on patrol. There was an altercation... Being rushed to the emergency room." He pauses, his eyes moving from the window to my face. "You." He speaks slowly. "You're a nurse in the ER. You were there when I came in." 

I nod. "It was touch and go there for awhile. But you're okay now. You're in good care." I pause before continuing. "I've been coming to check on you. I wanted to make sure you were okay." 

      He looks at me closely, studying me. He does a quick sweep from my head to my toes, making me squirm. I don't like attention. I especially don't like and am not used to attention from beautiful men. And here is this stranger making me feel the most uncomfortable I've ever been. But he continues to stare at me, not looking away. It feels like hours pass before he finally speaks.

"Why are you here?"

      I look at him, confused. I just told him I came here to make sure he was okay. He knows I took care of him when he came in. Is he having short term memory loss? He must see the confusion on my face so he continues to speak, explaining his question. His voice is hoarse but full of certainty.

"You're not in scrubs. I don't see a bag containing scrubs so I know you aren't going into work. Seeing as it's 5:00 pm I know you just didn't get off work since you work the night shift. You have a coffee and your laptop. So you came in on your day off. Why?" 

Nervousness floods through me, realizing I've been caught. I can feel blood rush to my cheeks as I blush. My voice is shaky. I am not used to being analyzed. Embarrassment also floods me, knowing I have been caught.

"I was told they were taking you off the ventilator. I wanted to make sure you were okay." I admit, keeping my gaze down at the floor, not wanting to see his expression.

"How long have you been here?"

    My mouth goes dry at his question. I don't want to admit to him I've been sitting here staring at him for awhile. He speaks again when I don't answer.