The waiting room reeked of antiseptic and floor cleaner, the toxic-smelling fumes strong enough to make me wrinkle my nose. I glanced around the space and wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans. Why wasn’t anyone else bothered by the smell?

The receptionist bustled around behind a large desk, answering phones in a too-enthusiastic voice and typing so hard on her computer I was surprised she hadn’t put a hole in her keyboard. A young guy to my right lounged in his chair, his thumb flicking over the screen of his phone. Neither seemed bothered by the complete lack of air in the small room, while all I could taste was the bitter tang on my tongue.

I didn’t notice my leg twitching until Reese placed her hand on my thigh and squeezed. She didn’t speak, but the calming weight of her hand made me want more. I wanted to pull her into my lap and bury my face in her neck. Or better yet, pick her up and get the hell out of this stuffy room. But since I couldn’t do either of those things, I settled for letting my arm rest across her shoulders. I pulled her close and in one fluid movement the whole side of her body lined up with mine. She didn’t move her hand, even when the spasm in my leg stopped.

This wasn’t even testing day, just an appointment to meet the doctor and talk things out, but here I was, verging on a panic attack and planning escape routes. I didn’t want to talk. I knew what I’d done and what my odds were. The HIV antibodies were probably circling in my blood right now, their numbers growing higher with each passing day. It was just a waiting game until they’d be high enough to show as a positive test.

Reese squeezed my thigh again, and when I glanced over at her, she smiled. That smile stopped everything. Stopped my shallow breaths and slowed my over-stressed brain. Her smile said she knew I was freaking out, but she was here. She was in this, and we were a team. How had I thought I could do this without her? Her touch grounded me in a way I hadn’t expected. I breathed through my nose, and my chest inflated with air again, but this time, I almost didn’t notice the obnoxious antiseptic smell. My nose filled with Reese’s strawberry scent instead, and the familiar smell of her calmed the crushing pressure on my lungs. I couldn’t keep running from this, not if I wanted her.

With my mind less overwhelmed, I noticed the patterns Reese was massaging on my leg with her thumb. Two hard presses into the muscle, followed by a gentler drag before she inched over and started the pattern again. Damn, it felt good, even through the thick fabric of my jeans. It’d been weeks since that night in the alley, so a pat on the head would feel good right now.

“Low Smith?” the receptionist called.

“Dammit,” Reese whispered. “I thought you might have registered under your proper name.”

I chuckled as we both stood. I’d forgotten all about our pact not to reveal our real names until we ‘knew each other better.’

“Not knowing is killing you, isn’t it?”

She grinned up at me and winked. “Maybe.”

We followed the receptionist’s directions, down a long hall with many doors, until we found the one we were looking for. A label on the door read Dr. M. Sloane.

“Oh my God, it’s Mark Sloane!” Reese giggled.

“Who’s Mark Sloane?” The giggling intrigued me. Reese wasn’t a giggler. At all. But I liked it. I made a mental note to try to make her giggle on a regular basis. It was adorable.

Reese slapped me on the arm as her mouth dropped open. “Mark Sloane! You know, McSteamy?”

“Mc what?” I had no idea what she was talking about.

“Mc Steamy! Grey’s Anatomy?”

“I don’t watch it.”

She shook her head sadly at me. “You poor, deprived little chicken. First The Notebook, now Grey’s. Though you lied about The Notebook, didn’t you? Does that make you a closet Grey’s lover as well?”

This was the weirdest conversation to be having in the hallway outside a HIV testing office. I wondered if nerves had her babbling.

She seemed to come to the same conclusion as I had, a blush creeping up her cheeks. She shook her head. “Never mind. Come on, let’s do this.” She grabbed my hand, threading her fingers between mine, and rapped on the closed door with her other hand.

A female voice called us in and nerves churned in my gut again. The tiny office had open windows and fresh spring air slapped me in the face. I sucked in greedy lungfuls.

“Low?”

Dr. Sloane smiled as we moved toward her. She had fine lines around her mouth and eyes that made me think she had to be in her mid-forties. I hoped they were smile lines. If she was a friendly, smiley sort of doctor, maybe she wouldn’t hold it against me when I puked all over her dark-stained desk. The nerves in my gut crawled up and strangled my throat, making it impossible to speak. I couldn’t even open my mouth. So I nodded instead.

“I’m Reese.” Reese introduced herself and offered a hand across the desk.

The doctor shook it firmly.

“Lovely to meet you, Reese. It’s great you came along today to support Low.”

We sat down in two straight-backed chairs that faced the desk. I kept my grip on Reese’s hand as if I were a man drowning and she was my only way out of the waves pounding on my head.

“So, Low, what can I help you with today?”

Her question caught me by surprise. Wasn’t it obvious why I was here? “I...um...” I coughed to clear my throat. “My GP thought I should come.”

She smiled at me. I wished she’d take pity on me and help me out with some words. I felt like the Sahara Desert had blown in and my brain was short circuiting.

I must have looked at her blankly for long enough to make her uncomfortable because she opened my file and flipped through it.

“So you had unprotected sex on the twenty-third? And you were tested that week? You only had unprotected sex on that date?”

I nodded.

“No other time throughout your sexual history?”

I shook my head. “No, just the once.”

She nodded, making notes with her pen. “Sounds like you don’t need the safe sex lecture then. You knew what you needed to do. You just didn’t do it.” She didn’t sound judgemental. She was just stating facts, but her words made me squirm as remorse mixed with guilt ate at me.

“I’m not sure why your GP bothered to have you tested at that point. HIV, even if you have it, wouldn’t show up in a test that quickly. It takes a few weeks. That’s why we do a repeat test. That should give us a definite answer one way or the other. Do you have your test booked in?”

I shook my head. “No, not yet.”

She scooted her chair over a little and looked at her computer screen. “I can fit you in tomorrow if that suits you?”

My stomach clenched as panic made my heart thump. “Tomorrow? I thought it would still be a few more weeks? My doctor said three months.”

“Eight weeks is normally enough, and you’re close enough to that now. We’ll do another test at six months if this one comes back negative, though. Just to be sure.”

I knew the doctor was waiting for me to respond, but words wouldn’t form. I’d prepared myself for a few more weeks of not knowing. I wasn’t sure I was ready to let that go just yet. Cold, hard fear rushed in. It flooded my brain and took control of my actions, leaving me helpless. I froze. I wasn’t ready for this.

But then Reese’s soft voice broke through the fear wall. “Only the positive, remember, Low?” She tugged at my hand, drawing my gaze to her. “Better to get this over and done with, don’t you think?” She sounded tentative, like I was a bomb that needed to be handled delicately.

Her eyes were big and full of hope. I couldn’t keep stringing this along. It wasn’t fair on her, and I was being a pussy. I needed to sort my shit out.

“Tomorrow is fine,” I found myself agreeing. Reese and I both had to work, but I’d find someone to cover.

Dr. Sloane looked pleased. “Good decision. I can fit you in at four. You’ll get the results almost straight away. It takes about an hour to process everything, but I’d prefer you to hang around if you can.”

I nodded. Reese spoke to the doctor again, but their voices faded. I heard nothing as I stared at a picture above the doctor’s head. By 5:00 p.m. tomorrow, I’d know my fate. In twenty-four hours I’d either get to keep the woman I was falling for, or give up the best thing that had ever happened to me.

I wanted to vomit again.