Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 76436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
I lean against the door, staring at the sign as if it might change if I look hard enough. But it remains stubbornly the same.
Anatomy Lab Canceled
Another day without Jason. Another day without the excitement that his presence brings, without the sparks that fly whenever our eyes meet. The hallways seem gray and lifeless.
Is he avoiding me?
I can’t blame him, of course. I’m his student, and what happened with us…
But no. He’s not avoiding me. He wouldn’t punish his other students like that.
“You’re still here?” A voice startles me from my thoughts. It’s Tabitha.
I shrug. “I guess I was hoping the sign would change.”
She gives me a sympathetic smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “It won’t,” she says, setting her books on the floor and then leaning against the wall beside me. “But that’s surprising, coming from you.”
“I made a perfect cut yesterday,” I say.
“You did.” She smirks. “After much prodding. You sure you want to stick with psychiatry?”
“I’m sure.”
“Well, we’ve got over three years of med school before we have to decide on our internship rotations.” She gently punches my shoulder. “You may change your mind yet.”
“Maybe,” I say, though I already know I won’t. The study of the mind has always fascinated me. It’s a puzzle to solve, a mystery to unravel. And it doesn’t involve any cutting.
Not physically, at least.
Tabitha nudges me with her shoulder. “You never know. You might just find yourself falling in love with some other field. Maybe even surgery.”
I give her a small laugh. “Yeah, maybe if they invent bloodless surgery.”
Tabitha laughs along with me and picks up her books from the floor. “I’d better head to the library. I’m going to grab some snacks first and then get some studying done.”
As Tabitha fades down the hall, I reach for my own bag and start to turn away when a familiar figure catches my eye. Jason. He rounds the corner, looking harried. His eyes meet mine, but he quickly looks away.
He’s close enough now that I can hear his labored breathing, see the troubled tenseness in his jaw. Something is wrong.
“Jason?” I call out.
He stops in his tracks but doesn’t turn to face me.
“Are you okay?”
For a moment, I’m not sure he’s going to respond. Until finally—
He turns. “I’m fine.”
“Really?” I ask. “Because you canceled class. And you kind of look like shit.”
He winces at my bluntness but doesn’t argue. Instead, he leans against the wall, his breath still ragged.
“You canceled lab,” I repeat, “so why are you here?”
“I have a meeting, and I forgot my notes in the lab yesterday.” He unlocks the door to the classroom.
I follow him in without being invited.
The cadavers sit, covered, at our lab tables. The scent of formaldehyde greets us, familiar and nauseating all at once. Jason moves toward his desk at the front of the room, riffling through scattered papers.
“You look awful, Jason,” I say again as I walk up to his desk. “And you’re not acting like yourself.”
He stops and looks at me then, really looks at me. His eyes are bloodshot and tired. “What do you want from me, Angie?”
“I don’t know.” I sigh heavily and glance around the room. The stillness of it echoes my own confusion.
Jason turns back to his papers without responding. His shoulders are slumped. A silence grows between us, thick with words unspoken and feelings unexpressed.
“You should go,” he says as he picks up a few papers.
A sudden surge of anger hits me. “Well, if you’re going to be like that,” I snap, “then maybe I will.”
It’s an empty threat, and we both know it. But I also know that this isn’t the place or the time to push him. Jason needs something, but right now, he’s not willing to accept any help.
I turn and—
He yanks me back, my body slamming against his chest.
The faint smell of liquor emanates from his breath.
“Are you drunk?” I demand.
He scowls. “Of course not.”
“Then what do I smell?”
He looks down. “The remnants of my bender last night.”
Bender? He told me he doesn’t drink much. Or did he say that? Hell, I don’t remember. I was too enamored with him being at my home, wine in tow, looking like a dark god with piercing green eyes.
“Why?” I ask.
“None of your damned business.”
Then his mouth comes down on mine.
It’s a ruthless kiss, a desperate one, full of pent-up frustration and hurt. He pulls me closer, tangling his hand in my ponytail. He rips out the band, and my hair falls down my back. I can taste the bitterness of alcohol on his tongue.
His lips move against mine with an urgency that leaves me breathless. I push against him, trying to create some semblance of distance, but he’s relentless. He tightens his grip and pulls me closer until there’s no space left between us.
I should resist him. I should push him away. But I don’t. Instead, I kiss him back and clutch at his shirt.