T h i r s t

t w e n t y o n e

Moving as conspicuously as possible, I reached my hands up high and into my hair to undo the barrette and let my hair flow. It was shorter now but hopefully had the same effect. I counted the seconds.

He was behind me by 6 thousand. Sat in front of me by 7 thousand.

"Wanna share?" He asked, pushing the huge bowl of ice cream between us.

"Sure." I shrugged and grabbed the spoon.

"I'll go get another spoon--" He breathed, pushing his chair back to get up.

"I don't mind." I shrugged, easing a dollop into my mouth.

Sweet Gandalf balls.

It was orgasmic.

"You sure?"

"For God sakes, Ryan. I've had your dick in my mouth." I rolled my eyes, and earned a shy smile from him.

"Do you mind?" I asked, handing the thoroughly licked pink plastic spoon back to him.

"No." He smiled slightly, digging in. "I've had your dick in my mouth too."

I chuckled, watching him ease the spoon into his mouth. "Oh, yeah, that's good." He moaned, and to be honest I had to cross my legs.

"Ease up, big guy. We're in public." I said, opening my salad.

"So you wouldn't mind the moaning if we were alone? Copy that."

"Moaning? You sound like a wounded bear." I laughed at my own joke, and he did too.

"A bear and a kitten. Who would've thought?"

"It can't be someone smart because look how well that turned out." I breathed, nibbling on the steamed chicken. Ew. I wanted ice cream. He'd never care if I grew fat. If anything, he'd welcome it.

"We had a good run, didn't we?" He asked, gently brushing the back of my hand with his finger.

It made me smile. "I guess."

Suddenly, we were too shy to look at each other. So I looked at his hands, at the same watch he wore, when I noticed something.

"You have blood on your shirt." I said, pointing to his shirt's rolled up sleeve.

"Gary's." He sighed, rubbing it between his fingers and staring off.

"So what happened?"

"He was being a stupid son of a bitch." He smiled without humor. "He was chasing this group of armed druggies and he should have waited for back up but . . ." he sighed and played with the spoon.

"The important thing is that he's going to be fine. I know the wound looks big and gruesome but . . . It looks worse than it really is." I nodded and gripped his forearm, squeezing it comfortingly. He stilled and stared at my hand until I released him.

"Anyway, I could get you a spare shirt." I mumbled and dug into the ice cream sundae.

"I don't know why, but I'm getting this strange sense of déjà vu."

We chuckled.

"Don't worry, this won't be anything like that."

"Because of Henry?"

I paused with the spoon halfway in my mouth. Damn, I almost forgot about my made-up boyfriend.

"Precisely." I said and handed him the spoon.

"I wonder what he does."

"He's a telemarketer, actually."

His dimples made another show. "Really?" He was so amused for some reason.

"For what company?"

"Why? Are you gonna hunt him down?"

"Can't hunt down someone who isn't real."

"Not that I have anything to prove to you, but he is real. And for one, he doesn't make me cry." I said, nursing the cold dessert in my mouth and it took me a long while to notice that he'd gone silent.

"I really am sorry about that, Lo." He said in a very morose tone, his head down. Crap, I should stop bringing that up.

"It's ok." I pacified, gripping his forearm again. "It's in the past, right?"

"Right." He nodded and touched my hand hesitantly, looking up at me with hopeful eyes. I flashed a weak smile and withdrew my hand.

"So how are you doing? I can't help but notice you've lost weight."

"You mean when you were spying on me like a creep?"

"It's in the past, man. Move on!"

He chuckled, handing me back the spoon.

"I took your advice. Cut back on the beer and quit smoking cold turkey. I'm still struggling with sugars, though."

I smiled, touched by his words. "That's great progress, Ryan. I'm proud of you."

"You should see me naked. I have abs and everything."

I tittered.

"What about you? How are you doing? Other than making up fake boyfriends, of course. Don't get me wrong, it's pathetic but it's cute."

I chuckled, not even correcting him. "I'm doing good. Finished my residency, as you can see."

"Yeah, clearly. Do you miss wearing scrubs all day covered in body fluids and pulling 36 hour shifts? Oh, wait a minute."

I smiled. "Hey, I actually get to operate now. And I have my own office."

He grinned to the fullest. "I know. And I'm proud of you, baby--" He stopped abruptly and sighed. "I'm proud of you."

"Thank you." I smiled back, trying to ignore how good being called that had felt.

"Oh, and I finally watched pulp fiction!"

He perked up. "And?"

"You were right. Best movie ever."

He pressed his head to the table and flung his arms in the air victoriously. "Yes!"

I chuckled and formed my two fingers into the barrel of a gun and risked the prospect for being made fun of for my Tim Roth impression.

"All right, everybody be cool, this is a robbery!"

"How are you Pumpkin?" He was wheeze laughing, throwing his head back and clutching his belly. I loved those laughs. They made the skin around his closed eyes crinkle and his dimples dent.

"Are you implying I'm the psychotic one?"

"They're both a little psychotic. It's their thing. Like dark humor is ours."

"Dark humor was not our thing." I protested, scooping into the already melting sundae.

"Sure it was. We made jokes about . . . dark stuff." She shrugged.

I raised an eyebrow and he sighed and conceded. I smiled and looked into my salad, which was practically dissing me.

"If anything, sex was our thing." I mumbled, and didn't look up even when he shifted. He slid closer so out knees were touching under the table.

"We were pretty good at that."

"We were." I agreed, looking up to hold his eyes and I slowly slid my knee between his legs. He straightened up in a smile, and leaned closer. Then, as I had his attention, I eased the spoonful of ice cream into my mouth and licked my lips.

"Excuse me, Dr. Meyers?"

"God!" I shuddered, knocking my knees to the bottom of the table and momentarily encountering freshly stuck gum. I used the opportunity to lean away from him and he did the same.

"Yes, Kathy?"

She grinned hesitantly, her eyes darting between us.

"He's conscious." She said, and we looked at each other, before rushing to our feet with Kathy trailing behind us.

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