“I’m not asking you to commit murder or anything, just keep up the dating façade while we are at the hospital.”  Desperation colored Riley’s plea as he drove Vanessa to the nearest hospital.

“After your accusations that I was Charles’s sex buddy, how could I possibly pretend to even like you, much less date you?  I don’t lie, Mr. Tate.  I needed a place to stay, and he added the apartment to the offer.”

“What was the rest of that offer, Dr. Taylor?”  Riley snipped.

Vanessa closed her eyes and clutched the shirt wrapped around her arm tighter.  “I’m not at liberty to discuss it.  But it had nothing to do with sleeping with Charles Pickney.”  She shuddered.  “Grody.”

He smirked.  “Did you just say ‘grody’?”

“When you accuse me of sleeping with Charles, yeah, I say grody.  I only had a strictly professional relationship with him.”

“I think we can both agree that you treating me is off the table permanently, so I think you can disclose the deal now.  If you agreed to something that has to do with me, I think it gives me the right to know,” he urged.

“You already know everything in our deal that concerns you,” she stated matter-of-factly.  “Pretend to date you in public.  Get you to agree to therapy.  Not tell anyone the true nature of our relationship.  Minus telling you about the apartment, I have lived up to my end of the agreement.  And if he wanted me to remain silent about that fact, he should have discussed my eviction before carrying it through.  Other than that, I’m true to my word.”

“So then, you will remain true now? You will pretend?”

“I think it’s safe to agree with you that our working relationship is dead in the water.  Why shouldn’t our pretend personal one be, too?”  She winced at the pain in her right shoulder.  The burning was getting increasingly worse.  “Just drop me off at the hospital.  I’ll call a friend or something.”

“How will it look if I just left you there?” he asked incredulously.  He shook his head.  “No.  I’m going in there with you and making sure you are okay.  Then I will find you a place to stay until Friday and you can go home as planned.”  He drove into the hospital ER parking lot.  “We don’t have to see each other after tonight.  I’m just asking that you help me out, please.”  He threw the car in park and turned her direction and leaned across the center console.  “Dr. Taylor, this could really ruin me.”  His piercing, pleading eyes fully engaged hers.

As he sat six inches away from her face, she could see how his eyes started dark around the edges and got lighter toward his pupils.  She lost herself for a moment staring at the very tiny gold streaks dancing off the lights from the parking lot as he awaited her answer.  She blinked and sobered.  “Alright.”

           

***

 

“Ankle isn’t broken, Dr. Taylor,”  Dr. Raji explained.  “It’s just very badly sprained.  Ice it for thirty minutes every two hours.  You will need to take the antibiotics for ten days for that cut on your arm.  We cleaned it out pretty well, but I feel the antibiotic is necessary as a precaution.  I see the nurse already gave you your first dose.”  He noted something on her chart.  “I have also prescribed something for pain.  Keep the ankle elevated and stay off of it as much as possible for the next twenty-four hours, and avoid getting your arm wet until tomorrow to make sure the liquid sutures are set.  Once the nurse comes in with your discharge papers, you are free to leave.”  He shook both Riley’s and Vanessa’s hands and left the room. 

An awkward silence filled the room.  Riley walked closer to the bed and handed her the crutches the nurse brought in earlier.  “Are you going to be comfortable using these?  Is your arm ok to use them? I’m also worried about you trying them in those shoes.”

She sat up, woozily.  “I hope so.  I haven’t tried.”  She closed her eyes, trying to shake off the dizziness.

“Are you okay?” Riley asked.

She looked at him, focusing on his face.  “I’m just tired I think.”  She adjusted the crutches and hopped down on her left foot and lost her balance.  She fell forward into Riley who wrapped his arms around her to steady her.  “Damn, I never fall.  I don’t understand.  Three times in two days.  I am not ever this klutzy, I swear.”

“Three times in three days.  It’s after two a.m.”  Riley smiled.  “So you just fall for me, Dr. Taylor?”  He teased. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, Mr. Tate,” Vanessa replied sharply.  Okay, maybe I am.  And why am I  still in his arms?

“Lover’s spat?” the cranky, large nurse asked from the doorway. 

Before Vanessa could turn toward the nurse, Riley ran his hands up her arms tenderly to her face.  He held her head firmly and bent down toward her, his eyes searching her soul again.  His lips softly swept across hers once, twice, and she didn’t stop herself from responding.  Her knees buckled, but his firm grip on her kept her from becoming a puddle on the floor.

“No,” he said, smiling down at Vanessa.  “I think we’re good.”  Acting.  That’s all.  Acting for Ratched’s benefit.  Not real.  Don’t like it so much.  Not real.  No meaning. 

“Good.  Here are the pain pills and antibiotics,” she handed the two bottles to Riley.  Vanessa became extremely annoyed that the nurse only spoke to him, just like Drakena did the day before, but was too tired, and a little too stunned that Riley just kissed her, to say anything.  “Take one antibiotic twice a day for ten days.  She can’t have another pain pill for at least four hours, and then one every six hours after that as needed.  These are her discharge papers.  Please sign. . .”

“Wait,” Vanessa interrupted.  “Another pain pill?  I already had one?”

“Yes, when I gave you the antibiotic, I also gave you a pain pill.”

“What are they?”

“Percocet.  Anyway, you should . . .”

Vanessa did not hear the rest of the nurse’s instructions.  She signed the paper and handed it back to the nurse.  The woozy and dizzy feelings were now explained.  She had never taken anything stronger than an Advil in her life, and now she was hopped up on a pretty strong narcotic, but too affected by it to get upset.

“Any questions?” the nurse asked.

“Nope.  I just wanna go home.”  Realizing she didn’t have a home, Vanessa burst into tears.

 

***

 

After her short ride in a wheelchair, Riley lifted a very loopy Vanessa into the car and got her settled, reaching slowly across her to attach her seatbelt.  He walked around the back of the car, positioned himself into the driver’s seat and headed out of the parking lot.

“I promised I would find you somewhere to stay.  Where do you want me to take you, Dr. Taylor?”

“Wait, I wanna talk abo’ what happen’ back der.”

“It’s okay.  Crying is cathartic in this situation.”

“No.”  She blinked slowly, feeling the effect of the drug pulling her under.  “You s’kiss me.”  Vanessa tried hard to stay conscious and vaguely knew she was not speaking clearly.  She fought the urge to close her eyes.

Riley smiled.  “Yes.  The nurse thought we were fighting.  I had to do something.  I’m so sorry.”

She closed her eyes.  “I’m not...”  And she swore she heard chuckling as her world faded into blackness. 

           

***

 

Vanessa awoke the next morning, at least she assumed it was morning, to achy muscles and a burning right arm.  The room was too bright to focus on where she was just yet, so she tried to assess her immediate surroundings slowly.  She was covered with a white comforter and sheets, velvety soft and high dollar.  Pillows surrounded her head.  The very large bed felt like a cloud.  All seemed undisturbed, which meant she didn’t move much throughout the night.  She felt her body to see what she was wearing relieved, then disappointed, that she was still in her dress from last night.  She performed a quick scan around the room: no Riley.  Did he dump me in a hotel somewhere?  It doesn’t seem his style, but I deserve it if he did. 

Further investigation indicated she was indeed not in a hotel.  She noticed the clothes Riley wore on their date neatly folded over a chair across the room.  Pictures on the dresser of an older woman who, from this distance, looked vaguely familiar.  Crap, the picture on his mantle.  This is the same woman, Riley’s mother.  I’m in Riley’s room.  Holy friggin’ shit!  I slept in Riley Tate’s bed!

Then she remembered.

She flew up to a seated position, throwing back the covers in the process.   Through the haze, she tried hard to remember every stinking detail from the night before, up until right before she passed out.

Oh my God, how embarrassing!  I cried?  Just explain it.  He’ll get it.  Not too terrible.  He’s a reasonable guy.  He’ll understand. You were under the influence.  Wait!  Holy shit, Riley Tate kissed me.  And worse, I think I liked it.  What the fuck, of course I liked it.  No, Nessa.  This is wrong.  Can’t happen.  So what happened after I passed out? 

She wasn’t sure how her last sentence came out before she lost consciousness; what she meant to say was, “I’m not mad,” but the uneasy feeling she felt told her otherwise. 

Panic attack.  Full on.  Hitting hard.  She jumped up to pace to expel some energy while she breathed through it, but the right ankle forced a blazing reminder of why she couldn’t do that.  She fell back on the bed.

The door opened slowly.  Oh, shit, no!  Not now!     

“I thought I heard you,” Riley said from the doorway.  “How do you feel this morning?”

She took two very deep breaths with her eyes closed before answering.  “Groggy.”  Two more breaths.  “What time is it?”

“Eleven.  And I think some protein will make you feel better.  I’ve started breakfast, if you are interested.”

“I could really use a toothbrush and a shower.”  She rubbed the back of her neck.  “My stuff… Did it…?” she asked, eyes still closed.

“Yes, most of it’s upstairs.  I have a brand-new toothbrush from my last dentist check up on the counter in the bathroom.  Can the shower wait until after breakfast?”

“Yeah.  I guess so.”

“Do you need any help getting…”

“No, I think I’m good, thanks.”

She opened her eyes and focused on Riley.  Subtle confidence wrapped in an uber-sexy, cool expression was too hard for Vanessa to read.  Questions swirled around her head way too quickly in her semi-dazed state to even think of one to ask.  At this point, personal hygiene took precedence over anything.  Wordlessly, she grabbed one crutch and hobbled to the bathroom noticing the pain was not terribly unbearable. 

Knowing she was a mess, she avoided the mirror for a minute.  Bladder emptied and teeth cleaned, she braved a peek.  Wow.  Mascara caked around both eyes and black streaks faintly lead down both cheeks.  Holy shit, Nessa.  You will never make crack-whore sheik a thing.  There, next to the sink, was a fresh washcloth and a travel bar of facial soap. 

Did Riley do this?  Thoughtful. 

Asshole. 

Why can’t he just be awful? 

Stop falling for the nice-guy act, even if it’s probably not an act, Nessa.  Very bad idea. 

She remembered how just two days ago she wondered what Riley Tate’s bathroom looked like.  Now that she was in it, she couldn’t bring herself to look around.  She quickly lathered up and began scrubbing her eyes.

Thoughts of the kiss and all the sensations around it came back to her.  His gentle hands sliding up her arms and neck to her face.  His thumbs caressing her cheeks.  His musky, clean scent.  His eyes and the way they danced and mesmerized her.  His feather-light kiss lasting just a moment, not nearly long enough.  Electricity filled her stomach at the memory.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!  “NO!”  

“Everything okay?” Riley called from the other side of the bathroom door.

“Yes.  Almost done.  Just a minute.”

Alright, Nessa.  Nut up.  No hiding.  No fooling yourself.  He’s off limits.  Breakfast, shower, then get the hell outta here.  FAST!