“All right… Let’s pair off for some role-playing exercises.”
Nope. That was where Jon drew the line. Thank heavens he’d sat in the back. As soon as people started shuffling around, he was outta there.
The hallway outside the classroom smelled of popcorn, and Jon’s stomach growled, and his nose pulled him toward the source. It’d been a day, that was for damn sure. Thankfully it was the final day of classes, but they’d saved the most torturous for last. The bedside manner class he just sneaked out of was group project hell, and he wasn’t keen on revisiting the worst part of every school he’d ever been to just to get a participation award.
He sniffed his way to another hallway where the hotel and conference center staff was setting up long tables and prepping for snack time. He had to give them props for at least that; the food had been pretty darn good this week.
Maybe he could sneak in and grab something before the rush. There had to be only fifteen or twenty minutes left for that session before the last couple of classes—groan. He slowly moved toward the tables, hoping he came off innocent and not like a rebel skipping class.
The guy on the end glanced his way, his hands busy arranging drinks in a large ice bin. He gave Jon a head nod and held up a bottle of Coke. Jon nodded back and jumped as the guy tossed it his way. The cold drink slipped through his fingers and bounced near his feet. This was why he never went out for football.
“You want another?” the guy asked through stifled laughter, eyeing the fizz rolling around in the Coke.
“This is fine.” He bent for it. “Thanks.” He’d just wait a few before cracking the seal. The guy went back to his job, and Jon leaned against the wall, tapping a tune against the cap. Could he get away with grabbing Cassidy some food before the rush, without seeming too interested? He would only be saving her a line. Completely innocent.
To an outsider’s perspective anyhow.
He pushed off the wall as the popcorn machine rolled out, his mouth watering like a dog in heat. Lunch was way too long ago.
Muffled voices filtered in from the hallway he’d just come from, and Jon swiveled and pricked his ears.
“…I had a head count. Maybe someone is in the bathroom?”
“Well, hopefully all the docs get that exercise done. They could certainly use it.”
Dammit, they were looking for him. His eyes shot around the hallway, hoping and praying for an escape route. His fingers frantically ran down the wall until they hit a doorknob. He twisted it and ducked inside before the owners of those voices turned the corner.
Something hard hit his elbow, and he jerked away from the movement.
“Hello?” he whispered into the darkness, squinting as his eyes adjusted. A broom slid down the back wall and clattered against the floor next to a pair of red high tops.
“I thought this was a bathroom, I swear,” a voice he’d recognize anywhere answered in the blackness. A small breath of relief escaped him, and he reached for his phone and clicked the flashlight.
Cassidy flinched against the light, her nose wrinkling and her hand coming up to block it. He lowered the phone and let out a hushed laugh.
“Funny seeing you here.”
“Poaching my hiding spot, I see.” Her lips spread wide, and Jon’s heartbeat tripled in intensity, the scent of popcorn disappearing, replaced by her vanilla and sugar cookie perfume. Her face was inches away, and his fingers twitched against the drink in his hand, itching to stroke her cheek.
“What class are you ditching?” he asked.
“Respecting your coworkers.” She made a face. “It wasn’t so bad… until they made us pair off. I said goodbye to stuff like that the second I graduated.”
“I guess we’re two peas in a pod.”
“You too?”
“Bedside manner class.”
Her shoulders shook with silent laughter. “Just a few more hours.” She sighed, checking behind her before plopping down on an upturned bucket. Jon set his phone on a rack next to bottles of glass cleaner and leaned against the door. He couldn’t tell if it was the bad lighting or what, but her eyes drooped, her demeanor a little less enthusiastic than what he was used to from her.
“You gonna make it?” he asked.
She lifted a shoulder. “Probably not. I got maybe three hours last night.”
“Been there.” He shuffled, stuffing a hand into his pocket. Her gaze turned to the Coke, and he lifted it toward her. “Want it?”
“Yes.”
He smirked at her honesty. “Go for it. I can grab another.”
“Or we could share,” she said, the weight of the bottle leaving his hand. “I can’t guarantee I’ll leave you a… ahhh!”
A kshhhh sounded through the room, followed by a splash. The smell of Coke filled the room, and something soaked through his pants. Jon jumped back, swearing.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said through curses and laughter. “I forgot it was—”
“Boobytrapped!” she squealed, and he crouched, pressing against her lips to keep her quiet, but he was laughing pretty hard, so she put a hand up against his mouth, too.
“Hypocrite,” she said around his fingers. Her breath warmed his skin and set the hairs on his arms on end. Their eyes met, and he wondered if she was sent back to the party night just like he was. She had sat on the counter of that bathroom and let him take her contact out for her. Their laughter drifted away, and he slid his thumb down her bottom lip and rested it on her chin for the briefest of moments.
Her brows pulled in slightly, and she dropped her hand from his mouth and let it linger near his collar. His breath stole away, and he desperately wanted to ask her what he’d done, why had she run that night. Why had she not brought it up since? Was it because of his status in the office? He hadn’t read a rule about it, but it was taboo, and not just because of their age difference. Maybe it was against her own personal rules.
The dark circles under her eyes spoke volumes, and he didn’t want to take advantage of the close quarters; a tired person was close to a drunk person, at least that was what one of his instructors said to him during a surgery simulation in his first year.
“So, Marvel Girl,” he said, straightening and searching for something to clean her up with. Good thing they were in a janitor’s closet. “The offer to use my suite still stands.” He snatched up a roll of paper towels and spun off a few squares.
“Huh?” she said, her eyes flicking over him as he cleaned her Coke stained arms, her brain seemingly trying to catch up to his train of thought.
“I know you’ve got a roommate. Maybe you need a few hours by yourself. Get some sleep?”
She blinked and shook her head, watching him smooth the paper towel down her forearm. “What are you gonna do?”
“Hang around the lobby. Make a few calls. Get plastered at the bar.”
She snorted. “Are you a fun drunk?”
“Depends on your definition of fun.”
Her tongue snaked out and wet her lips. “Maybe I’d rather do that with you.”
He was tempted to lock eyes with her again, but refrained, opting to start cleaning the floor instead.
She sighed. “Unfortunately, I can’t sleep or drink tonight. I have to figure out this missing money thing.”
He frowned; she’d better be getting paid double time for the hours she was putting in. “You can use my room for that, too, if you like.”
“Really?” Her brown eyes met his, and before he fell under their spell, he cast his gaze to the much less attractive mop bucket. “Because I really could use a quiet space. The lobby will be packed with conference goers, and Julie always plans drinks and room service on the last night here with the other girls.”
“Really.” He reached for his wallet and retrieved one of the keys. “Message me when you’re done.”
“Life saver.” She tapped the key against her palm. “And I can order Ant-Man?”
He smirked. “Go for it. But you’ll owe me fourteen bucks.”