"Communication is so much better when people are vulnerable."- A. J. McLean
I knew something was wrong.Utterly wrong.
Sugar held her phone in her hand. Mouth gaping open; her tongue ran over her chapped lips – plumped and swollen. Her knuckles tightened around the device. I gradually made my way over.
If I move too quick. She might run.
As if she was a squirrel contemplating whether to cross the road. Any slight movement could terrify her.
Sugar stood still.
I waved at two camera people as I walked over to her. A squinty smile that nearly tore my face in half.
Thank God for cover up.
The highly dishonest wrinkles would be on full display. However, I made eye contact and small gestures, non-pattern hand waves, to distract my discomfort.
Smile gone. I stood next to Sugar. Usually in the close proximity she'd adjust her position to mine. Elbows by her waist, she met my face forward. In this current circumstance she stared ahead, her eyes focused on the ceiling. Those extra iridescent heart-shape decorations twisted and twirled.
Her shortness of breath, empty gaze, and shaky hands provided further evidence that something was wrong.
"Sugar?"
No response.
Worse possibilities seeped in my mind. Thought after thought like water droplets that crawl down on a window, one right after the other.
Is someone hurt? Or worse dead? Any patients?
I wiped my hands on my jeans.
I tried to recall any recollection in small talk or text message to provide any clues from our conversations.
A friend? A family member?
I frowned.
Does Sugar have any friends?
I paused.
I have no clue.
I knew Sugar gave me the bare minimum when it came to her personal life. I acknowledged and respected her wishes (although I pushed and teased my way through text messages to get a sugar-cookie crumble of information). However, in this instance, a sensation overwhelmed my whole body; as if an enormous chasm stretched out in between Sugar and me. I stood on an unstable, rocky edge where Sugar stood on the other side of the chasm. Underneath my feet, the rocks fell into the trench. I moved back.
How do I reach you, Sugar?
My eyes traced her face. First eyeing her forehead, her eyelashes and eyes, and then down to her lips.
YOU ARE READING
Fake It | ✔️
ChickLitSugar McKenzie and August Wakefield couldn't be more different - Sugar, a meticulous, caring, but lonely paramedic and August, a charming former reality star still chasing his dream. But they've both closed themselves off emotionally from others...t...