I think about that.
“It looked like it hurt for him to lay eyes on me,” I continue, my voice straining not to get too emotional. “You should’ve seen the way Vienna swarmed him after class on the first day.”
“Is that the one who flirts with every professor?” Regan says, suggesting she’s been paying attention to my muttering on shifts.
“That’s the one.” A dark thrill pulses in my stomach. “He acted like she was poison, but with me…he made me go to his office and then brought me to the property management company to make sure I had housing.”
“Sounds like he might not have gotten you out of his system,” Regan remarks casually.
“He looks too in control for that.” I join her at the window. “He told me something I will never get out of my brain,” I whisper. “He said he was scared at how much he still wanted me.”
“Heshouldbe scared!” Regan cries out and faces me. “He can get royally fucked if he touches you. By your dad, as your father and his boss. He’d lose his job and likely end any future teaching jobs at another school.”
I pace around the room, a thought hitting my brain. “I always wonder how a doctor ends up teaching.”
“Because in most other schools, the least qualified people end up being the professors?” Regan says sardonically.
“I really want to believe in the case of medicine that’s not true.” I bite a fingernail. “But I’ve been wondering how a UCLA grad, who was a surgeon, becomes a teacher.”
“Huh,” she says, digging into my jar of lollipops and unwrapping one.
“I looked him up,” I confess, heat crawling up my neck. “He was top of his class. Fellowships to three major programs. Pediatric surgery residency in Seattle. There were news articles, ‘brilliant young surgeon saves infant boy,’ stuff like that.”
Regan’s brows lift. “Hotandheroic. Nice.”
“Then he fell off the map.” I swallow. “For almost four years. No publications. No hospital affiliation. Nothing.”
Regan whistles. “Burnout?”
“That’s the only thing that makes sense. But I’m dying to know what happened.”
“No articles about a downfall?”
“I have to keep looking,” I say, shrugging. “I guess even if something happened, he clawed his way back to medicine. That’s what matters. I had to claw my way back, too. I like that we have that in common.”
“Have you heard from Pierce?” Regan asks the white elephant question that always hovers.
“No,” I say bitterly, circling back to the reason I’m in this apartment.
“Those types of guys don’t like to lose,” she says, hereyes reminding me of the domestic abuse calls we’d been on. “All they know is possession. Control.”
“I remember,” I whisper. “The Langstonsdocontrol everything medical in this country, but I haven’t talked to Pierce since I left. I hope he’s gotten the message. Or finds someone else to dominate.”
Regan exhales. “So stay off the radar.”
“That’s the plan.”
“Does any part of your plan include getting that professor back in your bed?”
“No!” I say, but then bite my lip. “Okay, maybe a little.”
Regan’s eyebrows shoot into her hairline. “Scarlett Ford is awakening her villain era!”
“You’re bad.” I throw a dishtowel at her.
But she’s right. It would be quite villainous of me to tempt Dr. O’Rourke into a fling. He made it clear he still wants me.
Regan sighs, and for a moment, life feels normal. Light. Manageable. And as I personalize the space with my items, this tiny apartment looks lived in, like it’s mine.