Chapter 11

 

 

 

 

 

Gia

 

My eyes slowly peel back only to be assaulted with the ferocious light of day streaming through my open window. I guess I forgot to close that last night when I got home. Home. That is where I am, right? Yes, that’s my window and those are my curtains and that’s my phone ringing on my bedside table.

My hand reaches out, slapping at the offending phone, screaming out the worst noise in the history of noises. It takes me two tries to pick it up, but once I do, I realize it’s my mother. “Crap,” I mutter. “Hi Mom,” I say after I accept the call. Oh god, my voice sounds like I swallowed gravel and my mouth tastes like I drank dishwater and then washed it all down with cotton.

“Gia, what time are you coming today, because I still haven’t gone out to the store and I have nothing in the house.”

My eyebrows furrow in confusion, but that doesn’t feel all that great so I stop and go with inwardly confused instead. It takes my foggy, alcohol-saturated brain exactly five full seconds to remember I did, in fact, promise my mother I would come out to visit her today and we’d have lunch. “What time is it?”

My mother sighs, clearly not all that impressed with me right now. “It’s seven-thirty, Gia. I wouldn’t have called this early, but you’re usually awake by now.”

She’s right. I’m typically an early riser. But that’s not the case after I spend a night drinking the way I did last night. Last night. Wow, I really can’t remember all that much.

“I’ll be there by noon. Is that okay?”

“Yes. That’s fine. I was going to make that salad you like. You know, the one with figs and goat cheese.”

My stomach rolls and I’m unable to stop my groan of nausea. My eyes close and I take two deep breathes which help to suppress the urge to vomit all over my area rug. “That’s fine. I have to go. I’ll see you later.”

I hit the end button and then set my phone back down. All I really want to do is curl back under the covers and close my eyes, but I have to pee and that seems to be winning right now. Stupid alcohol. This is why I don’t typically have more than two, three drinks max. But judging the level of hangover I’m sporting right now, I went way beyond that limit.

Not more than four though. Ophelia promised and she stuck to that.

Sitting up, I twist, planting my feet on the floor. I need a minute to sit here before I can move or even stand up. Looking down I realize I’m in a t-shirt and my panties. Nicely done, me. And there is even a glass of water on my nightstand. It’s full, which means I passed out before I drank any of it. That probably explains why I feel like I want to die about now.

Standing up on unsteady legs, I allow my body to sway, before trying to right myself.

Jesus, I really did a– “Morning beautiful.”

“Ahhhh!” I scream, spinning around far too quickly as it takes my brain another couple of seconds to stop. And when my brain does stop spinning, I see Finn Banner in my bed, pulling himself up into a sitting position, leaning against the fabric of my headboard, naked. At least he appears naked because the sheet is covering him from the waist down and he’s not wearing anything on top.

Which means his chest is exposed to the overabundance of daylight streaming in my window.

Holy mother of sin, his chest and arms are something else. Strong and smooth and muscular with just the perfect amount of light hair. His abs are another matter altogether. I’m going to confess that I’ve never actually seen a six-pack in the flesh. At least none of the other men I’ve ever been with have had one.

But Finnigan Banner most definitely does.

I realize I’ve been standing here staring at him, most likely drooling, for longer than I should have, because once my eyes manage to find their way back up to his face, he’s laughing at me.

“What are you doing here?” I’m so confused. I remember leaving the bar with him, but…

Now he just looks even more amused and that’s sort of pissing me off.

“You don’t remember?”

I shake my head. “Oh my god, we didn’t…” I trail off, unable to finish the end of that very obvious question.

“I’m hurt, Gia. Really hurt that you don’t remember our wild night together.” I’m going to be sick. And worse, I can’t tell if he’s messing with me or not.

“Finn?” I say his name very slowly and very clearly and with the distinct intonation of a question at the end of it.

“No. We did not have sex.” He scratches his lightly stubbled jaw line and the motion is very distracting. In fact, everything about him right now is distracting. “The only thing we did last night was talk while you drank yourself into oblivion and then I brought you home.”

“I remember some of that. I mean, I remember you showing up and us talking a little. I remember leaving the bar with you. But I don’t remember you staying.”

“That’s because you were pretty much asleep by the time we got back here. I had to practically carry you up. I only stayed because I was afraid you were going to vomit on your back in your sleep.”

I look down. “Did you do this?” I ask, waving my hand in front of my short t-shirt. I think my panties are showing. I’m almost positive they are and I can’t remember if I’m wearing plain cotton or something pretty and sexy. Please let it be the latter. I don’t think I’ve ever been so grateful for getting waxed two days ago as I am right now.

He gives me an impish grin and shrugs. “I couldn’t let you sleep in your bed in your scrubs. That would have been nasty. Think of all the microbes I just saved your sheets from. But don’t worry, I was as much of a gentleman as I’m capable of being. I barely looked. Promise.”

“Barely?” I raise an eyebrow at that.

He returns my raised eyebrow, only his is accompanied by that damn sexy grin of his. And then he shrugs, not willing to clarify further.

Why don’t I care if he looked? I should care that he stripped me down and put me in only a t-shirt while I was wasted. But I don’t. What is wrong with me when it comes to this man? I’m no longer the girl who knows better. I’m the brainless schoolgirl who shamelessly throws herself at the boy she likes, hoping he’ll come around.

And he does. So freaking often. Maybe that’s why this is so difficult. Finn likes me. I know he does. Because I’m not that brainless schoolgirl. I know when a man is attracted to me. And Finn is more than attracted to me. Finn wants me just as much as I want him.

“How are you feeling?”

“That depends on what you’re referring to. Are you asking about how I feel after my night of too much alcohol or are you asking how I feel about waking up to find you in my bed?

“Both,” Finn chuckles. “Though I think I know how you feel about the second one since you told me you liked having me in your bed last night.”

Oh shit.

“Anything else regretful I should be aware of?”

“Probably, but those are for me to hold onto and for you to torture yourself over.”

“God.” I shake my head and immediately wish I hadn’t. “You really are an asshole.”

“Yup.” He grins even bigger now. “You said that last night too, but you called me a hot asshole, amongst other things, so I’ll keep the compliments.”

“I remember that one. And I’m sure I was being ironic when I said I liked having you in my bed. I mean, you basically invited yourself there.” He’s not at all bothered by my accusation. Plus, I think he knows I’m lying. How could he not? Alcohol is like my own version of truth serum. I don’t tend to hold back. It’s why I don’t usually drink that much.

And right now, with the way he’s looking at me, I wish I had kept my big mouth shut. Because I told him I liked him. I told him he was hot. I told him he was fucking with my head. And now that I focus on it, as the memories slowly trickle in, I vaguely remember remarking on how good he smelled before I fell asleep. Snuggling into him!

I am never drinking again. I realize everyone says that after a night of too much alcohol and bad decisions, but I absolutely mean it right now.

“I am going to pee and vomit and brush my teeth and when I come out, hopefully you’ll be dressed. And then after you’re dressed, you’re going to promise me that you’ll never ever tell anyone about anything that happened last night. Ever.”

“Does this mean I’m no longer your hero?” He gives me a cocky smirk. Asshole! Now he’s just messing with me. And enjoying the hell out of it. And he looks unbelievably hot and sexy in my bed. I can’t believe I called him my hero to his face. Jesus Christ. Could I have said anything cheesier to him? I hate everything right now.

“Jerk,” I mutter, walking around the bed and straight for my bathroom.

I slam the door behind me because I feel like that’s what I’m supposed to do, but the sound has me wincing. Once the throbbing subsides, I smile because Finn tried to make me feel better when I was sad and then stayed with me so I wouldn’t aspirate on my own vomit. You like me, Finn. I know you do. One day you’ll have to get over yourself and admit it.

Five minutes later, my face is washed and my teeth are brushed and I’m feeling a little better for it. When I exit the bathroom, Finn is indeed dressed in his scrubs and is now sitting on the edge of my made bed, doing something on his phone.

He made my bed.

“Hi,” I say, just a bit–or maybe a lot–embarrassed. I spent that whole five minutes in the bathroom trying to remember everything I said last night. I think I’ve gotten most of it. I hope I’ve gotten most of it.

Finn puts his phone down and peers up at me. “Feeling better?”

“A little.” I shift my weight. “I, uh, I just wanted you to know I don’t typically get drunk like that. It was just a really awful day.”
      He nods his head. “I know. You told me that too. I’m really am sorry about your patient. I wish I could tell you it gets easier, but it doesn’t. It always sucks.”

“Thanks,” I say, sitting down next to him, but making sure there is enough space between us. I’m in shorts now. I pulled a slightly dirty pair out of my hamper, but desperate times and all. At least my panties were of the sexy variety. “Have you ever had that? A patient die on you like that? So unexpected?”

“Yes. I have. I work in the ED, remember? Your dad was one of those people.”

“Really?” I say, my eyebrows raised.

“Yeah. He came in and was in such rough shape, but we managed to get him back and off to the cath lab. I was really hopeful. Especially after I saw you come in.” He shifts his position, angling himself so he’s facing more of me. His bright-blue eyes dance all around my face. “You looked so distraught and I knew by your black gown, it was graduation day for you. All I could think of when I saw you was, not her. I didn’t want you to lose your father like that on a day that’s supposed to be one of the best of your life.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I’m overwhelmed by it. By him.

I just know I need to kiss him.

My eyes lock with his and I lean in ever so slightly. Just enough to let him know exactly what my intention is. Finn blinks, his eyes dropping down to my lips and then back up to mine. My stomach coils with anticipation. With want. He leans in too, tilting his head, and even smiling a little. Just as our lips are about to meet in what I know will be the best kiss of my life, his phone rings in his lap.

But instead of silencing it or chucking it across the room and devouring my mouth, he pulls back and checks it. And then after he does that, he answers it with, “Dr. Banner.”

This is what I meant when I said to him two steps forward and one step back. When I forced myself to believe I was done.

Every time we get somewhere, he puts the brakes on. Every time I think, yes, this is the moment–it’s not. I’m so very tired of it. I don’t do well with in-between. I think I told him that. Indecision and I have never been friends.

And we’re certainly not about to become them now. I don’t care how good he looks with his shirt off. Or the fact that he comforted me, brought me home and kept me safe. Or that he saved my life and stitched up my arm. Or even the fact he made my fucking bed.

I do not care.

I’ve had enough.

I. Am. Not. That. Brainless. Girl!

Finn continues his conversation which really isn’t all that important. I can hear what they’re saying. They’re asking if he can come in a little early for his shift and he’s saying yes. That’s it. That’s what broke up our potential first kiss. An inconsequential phone call. Something that could have been managed over a text.

But in the back of my mind, I know he did it on purpose.

I realize he didn’t have someone call him at that precise moment, but I bet he was relieved it came. Finn has been pushing me off this thing between us since the very start. We’re talking months here, if I don’t count our initial meeting.

It’s time I take the goddamn hint.

I get up off my bed and move away from him. I stand over by my bedroom door and I wait for him to finish his call. It doesn’t take long. As I said, it wasn’t all that important.

“That was work,” he says after he ends it, like I needed him to actually tell me that. “I need to get going.”

I nod. I’m pissed off. Completely exasperated. “Sounds like it.”

Finn rises, watching me like he’s not sure what to do with me now. I solve his dilemma for him. Spinning around, I march out of my bedroom and over to my front door, fully expecting him to follow me. He does, but it takes him a second or two.

“Have a good shift,” I say as he approaches. “Thanks again for last night.”

I open the door, but he stops in front of me, peering down at me in silence. He’s conflicted. Like he’s waging some sort of inner battle with himself. Only I don’t think there are any winners in this case. I think no matter what, I lose. Because if he kisses me, he’ll regret it. And if he doesn’t…well, then he doesn’t, and I end up feeling the same way I feel whenever he’s blown through me like the tornado he is.

But his eyes right now. God, I don’t know what to do with them. I’m desperate to look away or shift or something because he’s intimidating me with their intensity. But I don’t do any of that. I hold that stare, daring him to do…something. Do something, Finn.

But all he does is sigh and shake his head, once again finding his resolve as he says, “See you around, Gia.”

And then he leaves. He doesn’t even turn around or look back. I know because I watch him until he disappears around the corner on my floor. I wait to shut the door until I hear the ding of the elevator.

“Goodbye Finn,” I say to myself as I lock the door. I flip the deadbolt and latch the chain because I’m just that angry.

I’ve never met a more frustrating man. Every guy I’ve ever gone out with, other than in high school or middle school where they’re just too immature to get out of their own way, has been direct. Either they want you or they don’t. Either they kiss you or they make it clear they’re not feeling it.

And sure, they might do the whole, I don’t want a relationship thing. They might say they only want something casual. Like Colin. He did that and I was cool with it because I knew where we stood and I was in the same mindset.

But I want Finn Banner.

And I know Finn Banner wants me.

So just what the absolute fuck is his problem?