Cassidy’s arm hung dangerously close to Jon’s, and tremors ran up and down his fingers as he contemplated holding her hand. She was a hand talker, so he knew he didn’t have much time to think about it.
The whole evening had been spun on its head as soon as they started talking. Jon had no idea the time, nor did he care, and he barely remembered there had been other people at the party.
Just as he was about to grab her hand, she lifted it to her eye, rubbing furiously. “Oy, these things.”
He shook away his disappointment and pulled open the door to the pizza place for her. Yeah, he was a pizza junkie, and he wouldn’t mind another slice or five.
“You all right, there?” he asked.
She pinched one eye shut, her lashes wet and mascara gathering underneath. “I don’t normally wear contacts.”
“Can’t handle things in your eye?” he teased as she passed. The glass door shut rather quickly, smacking his elbow.
“A couple of hours is fine, but…” She rubbed at it, blowing out a frustrated sigh. “In my defense, I thought I’d be home by now.”
“So this is my fault?” He laughed.
“One hundred percent.” She pointed to the menu, her left eye now a watery, red mess. “Get me a fully loaded slice? Or two? I’ll be right back.”
“You need help?”
“Just the thought of you getting near my eyeball has me freaking.” She waved off her situation, but her lashes were starting to clump together. He hoped she’d hidden a pair of glasses in that costume of hers. “I got it.”
“Okay.” He almost blurted that he was a doctor, but he wasn’t sure if she’d figured that out. She certainly wasn’t treating him like he was her boss, and he wanted to keep it that way.
She disappeared into the ladies room, and he ordered a medium fully loaded pizza, finding it was cheaper to do that than order four slices. He’d most likely put away more than two, anyway.
She was still in the bathroom when the guy handed over the box, and Jon leaned against the wall opposite the ladies room door. The scent of sausage and pepperoni and ham and bacon and cheese and sauce was going to put him in a drooling state. She’d come out and find him with a puddle at his feet.
He scratched at his mask, wondering if it was about time he took it off. He’d be a whole lot more comfortable, but then she’d definitely know who he was.
A muffled curse sounded through the bathroom door, and he laughed to himself. “Everything okay?” he called out.
“These are devil-made!” she shouted back, and his grin turned up to eleven, his heart pounding hard and frantic. It would take all his power not to kiss her the moment she came out of the bathroom, puffy eye and all.
He wiped his palm on his costume, not knowing if it was getting hot because of the pizza box or because he was suddenly back in high school on a hot date, or a combination of both.
“Hey… uh… Dread Pirate Roberts?” she said, then poked her head out. Her hand was over her eye. “Any advice on how to get a contact out with these things?” She wiggled her fingers, her fake nails clicking against the door.
He chuckled and set the pizza down on an empty table. “How’d you get them in there?”
“On a wing and a prayer.” She frowned and pulled the door open wide. “Help?”
Yeah, she had to know he was a doctor—or at least assume so. Who asked just anyone to stick their fingers into their eye?
He settled a palm on her hip, gently coaxing her into the bathroom and next to the sink. He ran the water, soaping up like he was about to perform a c-section and not a contact removal.
“How long you been wearing contacts?”
“I tried them when I was in… eighth grade, maybe?” She boosted herself up on the counter, still holding her left eye. “By last period my eyes were so red and crusted that I never attempted them for more than an hour or two after that.”
“What’d your optometrist say?”
She pressed her lips together, holding back what looked like a laugh.
“What?” he asked, shutting the water off and sticking his hands under the dryer.
“You definitely work in the medical field.”
He snorted. “So do you.”
“In the billing department. I don’t know all this mumbo jumbo. Unless it’s in code.”
“And what code would this be?”
She tilted her head, hand still over her eye. “I don’t know. I work in the OB clinic.”
“Not much call for eye issues.”
“Our codes are usually much more south.”
He shook his head, quiet laughter in his chest. Once his hands were dry, he settled in front of her, nearly placing his palms against her knees, hooking them and pulling her to the edge of the counter. But he’d have to wash all over again.
“Scoot closer?” he asked, and her smile turned nervous, a small whine floating out as her legs straddled his hips.
“It’s pretty disgusting,” she warned.
“I’ve seen my fair share of disgusting things.” He nearly touched her again, wanting to put his hand on her elbow, his fingers against her forearm. He took a deep breath, calming himself down and gaining control of his thoughts.
The corners of her mouth dropped into an adorable frown, and she slowly pulled her hand away from her eye. Her cheek was mascara streaked, her lid red and swollen from all that rubbing. Jon carefully leaned in, focusing on where that contact was. Hopefully it was still resting on her iris.
His lip curled up, noticing how unique her eye color was. From a distance, it was obvious she was a brown-eyed girl, but up close, there were hints of green and blue dancing with each other.
“You have pretty eyes,” he said, settling his middle finger on the apple of her cheek.
“Oh yes. Red and puffy is definitely a turn-on.”
He grinned, spotting the edge of the contact lens. “Don’t worry,” he said, “my nails aren’t nearly as long.”
“Or as fake.”
Water leaked from her tear ducts—both of them. Her right eye blinked like mad, and he was sure her left would be doing the same if he weren’t holding it open. He put his free hand on her slender neck, smoothing his thumb up and down in what he hoped were soothing strokes, but her pulse jumped, and her breath grew shallow and quick.
“You have your glasses?” he asked, hoping to distract her. When dealing with a nervous patient, always divert their attention, even when you’re literally poking them in the eye.
“If I did, that would mean I’m a well put-together person.” She let out a small laugh. “And that would go against everything I believe in.”
“Does that mean I’ll be leading you around the rest of the night?”
“Most definitely. But that will be better than this fresh hell I’m experiencing right now.”
He smirked, pinched the lens, and pulled it free. “One down.”
Cassidy blew out a calming breath, and he let her shake out her nerves before attempting the other eye, which thankfully, hadn’t been irritating her as much.
“You’re so calm,” she said as he propped the right eye open. “How in the world can you touch an eyeball and not gag?”
“I’ve touched a lot worse.”
She jerked away. “Don’t tell me that!”
“I washed! You were witness to my frantic scrubbing.”
“I don’t know how often you do that,” she teased, leaning forward again and looking up at the ceiling.
“Yeah, everyone always scrubs up to their elbows.”
“I do!”
He didn’t doubt that. Almost everyone who worked around patients got a good case of hypochondria.
He shook his head, holding her neck still, wishing he could prolong the moment, but knowing that she wouldn’t have that. Her heart was practically beating out of her throat.
The second contact came out much easier, and he plopped it on the counter next to its twin.
“All done.”
“Praise Thor.” She hopped off the counter, her body bumping into his. He fought the urge to keep her there… trap her against the counter. She was still blinking furiously, and he wondered if he had some artificial tears in the first aid kit in his glove box.
“You want to keep these?” he asked, nodding to the contacts while she grabbed a paper towel and wet it.
“Torch them,” she said with a laugh. “I think it’ll be years before I ever let contacts near my eyes again.”
He plucked them up, squinting at the left one as something caught his eye.
“So… how expired is your contact solution?” he asked, twisting the contact to examine the tiny crystal that had formed on the edge.
She turned toward him, the cutest clueless look on her face. “It expires?”
He held back a laugh and tucked in close to her, holding up the crystalized contact lens. “When these suckers sit in expired contact solution for an extended amount of time, they get these little crystals in them, and they scratch the hell out of your eye.”
Her little mouth dropped open, and she nodded. “Truly devil-made.”
“Absolutely.”
He flicked it into the trash, and she continued cleaning off the makeup from her cheeks. Her eye was still red, but it was a lot less wet. She’d be okay, but Jon was getting worried that this little event had put a chink into their evening. Every time they were in close proximity, he was in a blinking danger zone of kissing her, and she seemed about as far from that train of thought as a person could be.
Then again, she did have a puffy eye.
“Did you get the pizza?” she asked, squinting up at him.
“Yep… unless someone stole it while we were in here.”
She gasped and grabbed his hand, and Jon was pretty sure his heart flew right out and flopped onto the floor between them. Cassidy tugged him behind her like she had at the party, but unlike then, Jon found the courage to lace his fingers between hers, and a victorious grin lifted the corners of his mouth when she didn’t let go.