It’s my soul that remembers seeing those eyes first.
Those eyes which are the rich, warm shade of dark chocolate—
They’re the kind that could make me write an instapoem at two in the morning with way too many hashtags and absolutely no shame, and those eyes alone are making me—
“How are you feeling?”
Is he asking me as a doctor? Or because he thinks I’m pretty? Or maybe he’s asking because his soul knows what I know, and that’s how we’re—
“Ms. McKenna?”
Oh, right, he was asking me about, um...
Right, right.
He wanted to know how I’m feeling, and I’m, um, feeling...
Good.
That was what I wanted to say. But because Dr. Collington’s fairytale good looks have completely caught me off guard, I end up croaking out something like “grwd”?
“No headaches or dizziness?”
But thankfully, he seems to have understood me all the same, with Dr. Collington only nodding as he makes a note on his chart.
“I’m glad to hear that.” He pulls a chair beside my bed and sits, and my heart starts to pound.
“I’ll need to do my rounds after this—”
A sound interrupts him, and I can feel my face turning red when I realize that it’s the heart monitor letting him know my heart rate has gone crazy.
Dr. Collington frowns. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
“I...um...”How do I get out of this?“I just...find myself thinking of something?”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
The heart monitor is making so much noise right now I feel like nurses are about to charge inside my room any second—
“Is it...is it okay if I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
And before I know it, the words simply come flying out—
“Are you, um, dating anyone?”
AAAAAAAAH.
I think I need another aneu—no, wait, God, that’s a joke, I’m sorry, I’m so glad to be alive again, thank You, it’s just—
“No.”
The nurses burst into my room.
“I’m not dating anyone.”
And that’s how Stanhope Vancouver’s first ever legend is born.