Him
‘Ki-Ki! Please!’ groaned Libby, chucking a bread roll at Kira’s head. ‘Can we not talk about my sex life. God.’
Kira rolled her eyes. ‘Libby, it’s not like I’ve been going through the dong-meets-foo-foo logistics or anything. I just think you guys should have a dirty weekend away. Maybe then you’d be a bit less vomit-worthy around us more sexually frustrated mortals. And you could do with a break. You know you could.’ Libby had only just recovered from a bout of pneumonia. There was real concern behind Kira’s teasing.
‘We are not vomit-worthy,’ Libby hissed in outrage.
‘Uh, Lib,’ Pav cut in. ‘That would hold a lot more water if Jamie hadn’t had his hand on your leg under the table for the last ten minutes, and if you hadn’t sent him a dirty text just now.’
Libby’s face flamed bright red as Jamie jerked both his hands onto the table-top and swept his phone up into his pocket. ‘I did not send him a dirty text,’ she hissed, and Pav rolled his eyes. ‘I didn’t, I just –’
‘Okay, maybe not dirty dirty but I bet there were a few emojis involved.’
‘Yeah,’ Kira said, sitting forward in her chair. ‘You probably sent a couple of aubergines and a crazy ghost. Am I right?’
‘Wh … what are you –’
‘Don’t act all innocent you frisky little minx. You know exactly what I’m talking about.’
Pav started laughing whilst Jamie’s eyes were dancing and his mouth was pressed into a firm line. The filthy look Libby shot Jamie as his shoulders started to shake only served to increase the volume of Pav’s merriment. He shook his head in his amusement and something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. She was standing completely still across the canteen, and her perfectly made-up face was staring straight at him. It was her expression that surprised him.
Just for that moment she didn’t have her standard uptight, aloof mask in place. Instead the corners of her mouth were tilted up ever so slightly and her eyes were warm. For some bizarre reason her expression seemed almost … longing. However it didn’t take long for her to notice his stare. Her face shut down again and her eyes slid away as she practically ran over to the new coffee stand.
‘Don’t you think, Pav? Pav?’
‘Er … what?’ Pav replied, keeping his gaze fixed on Dr Morrison’s rigid back. Kira huffed out a sigh.
‘Don’t you think they should be letting us babysit more? Hello? Earth to Pav?’ she said as she waved a hand in front of his face.
‘I’ll … um, just be a minute,’ Pav mumbled as he pushed away from the table to stand up. ‘Anybody want a coffee?’
There was a long pause. ‘Pav you’ve just had a coffee. One that I bought for you seeing as you don’t have the patience for it.’
‘Right, well, I’ve got a long list this afternoon, so a bit of a caffeine boost is in order. Ladies?’ Libby and Kira looked down at their barely touched cups and then back at Pav with identical frowns.
‘Wh –’ Libby started, but Pav didn’t catch the rest as he was already striding away.
‘An Americano, please.’ For some reason Dr Morrison’s soft voice ordering coffee gave Pav a weird buzz of excitement as he came up behind her.
‘A what, dear?’ Doreen was a lovely lady in her eighties who had served the teas and coffees for the last twenty years in aid of The League of Friends, a money-raising charity for the hospital. She and her cronies used to have a little hole in the wall with only tea bags and some milk. In a real pinch they would make you an instant coffee, but it would provoke a rather stern look. But a couple of months ago, since Costa had moved into the gym across the road, the management had decided to get The League of Friends up to speed with a state-of-the-art coffee machine that ground its own beans, frothed milk and made a massive assortment of coffees, all of which were listed above Doreen’s head and none of which she actually knew how to make. Apparently Doreen and co. had undergone ‘intensive training’, but this was certainly not evident in their customer service. After Pav had climbed over the counter, kissed a flustered Doreen on the cheek and made his own bloody latte last month, Jamie had banned him from any further coffee ordering.
‘She means black coffee, Doreen,’ Pav put in as he moved to stand inches from Dr Morrison with his hand nearly touching hers on the counter. He had just a brief moment to inhale the scent of her shampoo and some sort of expensive, subtle perfume before she took a startled step to the side away from him.
*****
Damn it, Millie thought as she studied the jar of cookies in front of her and smoothed a non-existent wrinkle in her skirt. She knew she should have stuck to the Nescafé in the radiology department, but the lure of the new machine and the smell of everyone else’s freshly ground coffees in the morning meeting had been too much for her. Generally she avoided the rest of the hospital as much as possible. She liked to stay on familiar ground. When she’d walked into the canteen and seen Him laughing with his friends, she’d actually been glad to have broken her normal routine. Whilst direct interaction with Him was stressful, being able to observe him from afar was one of her favourite things.
Of course he was always handsome; but with his head thrown back and his deep, rich laugh filling the air around him, he was so beautiful it was almost painful to look at. Mr Martakis fascinated Millie. He was the most uninhibited, charming, outgoing and free person she had ever encountered in her life. The way he expressed himself with his hands, his extravagance of movement, his familiarity with everyone (except her, obviously; Millie wasn’t familiar with anyone apart from Donald, and he didn’t really count): it was almost … wild, and it thrilled and terrified her in equal measure. So when he’d caught her staring, those dark eyes focusing intently on hers and the laughter dying on his lips, she’d skipped thrilled and gone straight to terrified.
What she should have done was leave immediately, but that would have shown weakness. Millie might actually be weak, but that didn’t mean she had to show it. So, in spite of her heart beating practically out of her chest she’d made it to the coffee stand. Unfortunately Millie had not factored Doreen into the equation, but by the eighth time of giving her order she had seen the error of her ways.
And now He was right there. That was twice in one month she had been this close to him. Millie had only felt his body heat and seen his large hand next to hers before she heard his voice, but for some reason she’d known it was Him. Having put sufficient distance between them to keep control of her hammering heart, but not so much as to betray fear or weakness (she hoped), Millie resolved to try and ignore Him whilst Doreen bashed away at the coffee machine in slightly alarming fashion.
‘I’ll have a latte whilst you’re at it, Doreen,’ he said, smiling across at the flustered, white-haired lady.
‘You’ll get what your given, young man,’ she told him. ‘And stay on that side of the counter.’
Mr Martakis chuckled and the sound skittered over Millie’s skin, making her shiver.
‘You cold?’ he asked.
She could see him turn fully towards her out of the corner of her eye, and sucked in a startled breath.
‘No,’ she managed to squeeze out past her tight throat. It sounded rude and curt – exactly what he, and most other people, would expect from her. But for some reason this man was not put off. In fact he chuckled. Chuckled, in the face of her Nuclear Winter. Nobody chuckled at Nuclear Winter; they ignored her, they left her alone – she did not make them chuckle.
‘Well, I’ve been bloody freezing all day,’ he continued, as if they were having an actual conversation. ‘The theatre air-con is buggering about. Had to wear thermals to stop my hands shaking.’
‘Uh …’ Millie bit her lip, her eyes flicking from his tanned hand up to his thermal-clad arm. Something about the white material pulled tight over his muscular forearm caused the most weird sensation to sweep up from her stomach. Her heart actually felt like it had stopped for a moment, before it picked up double time.
‘It’s my Greek blood I guess,’ he said, and she blinked before taking another small step away. ‘Thanks, Doreen.’
It was then Millie realized that her coffee was in front of her and she had inadvertently moved away from the cash register. Oh God, he was paying for her coffee! She watched in horrified silence as Mr Martakis handed Doreen a tenner and was given a twenty and some loose change back. The most ridiculous argument ensued, culminating in him forcing another tenner on a confused Doreen, leaning right over the counter to kiss Doreen on the cheek, and refusing any change. Millie watched all this with her mouth slightly open. That was until he turned to her and started moving forward. She sucked in a breath and skittered back, catching her hip on the condiment counter.
‘Hey,’ Mr Martakis said softly, stopping his advance and holding his hands up. ‘Hey, you okay?’
‘I’m fine,’ she croaked, then cleared her throat. ‘You … you can’t pay for my coffee.’
Mr Martakis’ concerned frown melted away to be replaced by his wide, glamorous smile, showing his white teeth off against his olive skin. Millie’s heart skipped another beat as she focused on his mouth, before quickly dropping her gaze down to her feet.
‘I think I just did so … maybe you can get the next one?’
He was moving towards her again, and as her back was now pressed up against the counter, short of darting around him (which again would have revealed weakness and she had been weak enough around this man already) she had nowhere to go.
‘The … the next one?’ she muttered, frowning down at her coffee cup in confusion.
‘Yes,’ Pav said as he moved right into her personal space and put his hand gently on her back to propel her forward away from the counter. ‘The next one. Like, tomorrow? You sort of owe me after that stunt you pulled at the club. I had some explaining to do to Mr Steroids on the door.’
‘I … oh, you mean the … the bouncer? I just –’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Mr Martakis dismissed, waving the hand that was not at the small of her back. ‘I know Barry. We sorted it. Now, about that drink –’
‘Wh … what?’ she stammered, feeling the heat of his large hand on her back and moving faster to get away from it. That was until she couldn’t move any further. He’d manoeuvred her over to his table before she’d even realized what was happening.
‘Hi, Millie,’ Libby said gently, giving her an encouraging smile.
‘Hey,’ Jamie put in, giving her a brief nod before he turned to Mr Martakis and frowned, probably confused as to why he’d dragged her over here. That makes two of us, Millie thought in bewilderment.
‘Dr M.,’ Kira muttered, not bothering with an encouraging smile. Libby and Kira had both started as medical students at the hospital a few months ago and whilst Libby was kind, Millie was well aware how much Kira disliked her. Ironically, though, the feeling was not mutual at all. Millie thought Kira was hilarious and a little bit crazy. Unfortunately, when faced with big personalities and extreme extrovert behaviour, Millie tended to shut down. So any interaction she’d had with Kira in the past had been strained to say the least. The friendlier Kira was, the more dismissive Millie became and there was no way for her to stop it.
‘Dr Morrison and I have been grappling with Doreen for the last ten minutes,’ Mr Martakis explained smoothly whilst he pulled out a chair and gestured for Millie to sit down. Millie looked at his hand and up to his thermal-covered forearm before she glanced at his face, still sporting that wide glamorous smile. ‘Take a seat.’
Her mouth dropped open and she blinked once. There was no way in hell she was sitting down.
‘I think you’re making Dr Morrison uncomfortable, Pav,’ Kira said, her voice uncharacteristically flat and unwelcoming.
‘I … I’m not …’ Millie took a step back and watched as Mr Martakis shot Kira an annoyed look before he skirted his chair to move towards her, causing it to scrape along the linoleum.
‘Ta-ta, Dr M.,’ Kira said with a fake smile and a small wave. ‘Great chat, as always.’
Millie took another step back but came to an abrupt halt as her back hit a solid wall of flesh. The coffee she was holding spilled over the edges of the cup and onto her hand. She barely registered the scalding pain.
‘Shi – I mean, sorry, Dr Morrison,’ the large ODP (operating department practitioner) that worked with Jamie and with whom Millie had just collided said.
‘It’s fine,’ she said. ‘I … sorry …’ She trailed off and turned on her heel to leave. As she weaved through the tables she put down her coffee cup; it was only half full now anyway and she couldn’t exactly run back to the radiology department with it sloshing all over the place. Her hand started to throb as she rounded the double doors of the canteen and strode down the corridor at speed. Once in the safety of her office, she leaned up against the door and closed her eyes.
Donald was on leave today. It was bad timing. She needed him here. Shaking her head in an attempt to clear it, she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Needing Don was a bad idea. Needing anyone was a bad idea. Millie knew she had to rely on herself. Her hand throbbed again and she rolled her eyes. If she hadn’t scuttled backwards like a terrified rabbit she wouldn’t have run into that ODP and she wouldn’t have burnt her hand. She moved away from the door, and was just about to start running some cold water into the small sink in the corner when a loud staccato knock caused her to jump about a foot in the air.
She knew who it was before his head appeared around the frame. That knock could only belong to someone as larger-than-life as Him. She contemplated hiding under her desk (it wouldn’t have been the first time – she’d tucked herself in behind the front panel more than once before to avoid people) but there just wasn’t time to sufficiently squash herself into the available space, and the thought of how ludicrous she would look if caught made her break out in a cold sweat.
‘Hey,’ Mr Martakis said as he stepped into the office as if it was his own. Millie would never enter someone else’s space unless specifically invited. She marvelled at how confident, pushy and … and rude this man could be. Then, after entering her office without permission, he proceeded to casually stroll up to her, stand way too close and take both her hands gently in his. ‘Ah, bugger,’ he muttered as he moved her right hand into the light to see the red burn marks over the back and fingers. ‘Let’s get this under some cold water.’
He propelled her forward to the sink by her elbow, turned on the faucet and then held her hand under the flow. Millie’s whole body had gone rigid with shock as soon as he put his hands on her. And now, with her back to his front and his arms around her to hold her hand under the tap, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. There was the instinctive fear she had when in physical contact with anyone, but this was mixed with a far more worrying and foreign feeling, almost like flying; kind of what she imagined it would be like to take drugs. Her ears were ringing and her heart was hammering in her chest.
‘It’s pretty red but hopefully it won’t blister,’ he murmured behind her ear, and she could feel his breath on her cheek. ‘Jesus, what are all these bruises?’ Her sleeves had ridden up and the inner surface of her forearms were showing. ‘What the –’
Millie had dropped down and ducked under his arm, then dashed across the room, putting her office chair between them. He spun around to face her with a bemused expression on his face. She gripped the back of the chair and kept her eyes focused on her desk.
‘Dr M.?’ he called, and she flinched. ‘Okay, I’m going to move away from the sink now, all right,’ he told her as he started walking backwards to the other side of the room and Don’s desk. ‘I’m sorry I crowded you but can you please put your hand back under the water?’
Millie blinked down at her hand, which started throbbing again as her adrenaline receded. She glanced at Mr Martakis out of the corner of her eye; then, with as much dignity as possible under the circumstances, she walked to the sink.
‘Will you keep it under the water?’
Millie never cried. Tears did not work for her when she was a child. Instead of crying her throat would close over almost completely, making it impossible to speak. Thus, a distressed Millie was always, always an entirely silent one. So, with no other option, all she could do was nod her head whilst she stayed focused on her hand under the running water.
‘I’m going to go now, okay?’ he said cautiously, and she nodded again.
After the door closed behind him, part of her was weak with relief, but the other part, the part that had experienced that rush when he was near her, that part felt such an acute sense of loss it was almost painful.