I couldn’t take it a second longer. I craned my neck, our lips inches apart.
The door to the doctor’s office opened. “All right,” the doc said, “I have the—oh.”
Matt backed away from me, rearranging himself, and returned to the far corner.
I colored bright red and tucked my hair behind my ears, cursing the tank top that was too small and the fact that my damn nipples had betrayed me.
“I have your results,” the doctor said. “Your X-rays. Unless you two need a moment to talk?”
“No,” I said quickly, then measured my tone. “No. We’re fine. I mean, as fine as I can be depending on what you say next.”
“Right.” The doctor walked over to a screen on the wall, clicked a switch and backlit it. He put up the X-rays. “You’re looking at your ankle, here, see? It appears that you’ve bruised the bone. So, you’re going to have to take it easy for a little while and apply some ice to the area, but there’s no need for an ankle brace or the like.”
“Oh, that’s good news,” I said, exhaling. “Better than I expected.”
“You’re on bed rest for the next two days, foot elevated, and I’ll prescribe you some painkillers to help you out,” the doctor said. He swept the X-rays off the screen, put them in an envelope, and handed them over. “I’ll write you a prescription.”
“Wait a second,” I said, my stomach sinking. “Did you say bed rest?”
“Correct.”
“I can’t do bed rest. I have to teach people how to dance for a wedding.”
The doctor paused, pressing his glasses up his slightly hooked nose. “Then I’m afraid you’ll have to find someone to replace you. Dancing now would be excruciating and would only lengthen the healing process.”
“But…” What could I say? These were doctor’s orders. But I needed the money from the dance lessons for my tuition to acting school in LA. “I can’t do that.”
“Then I’ll see you in a few days and give you an ankle brace for the resulting injury,” the doc said.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
This couldn’t be happening. But it was.
It was as if everything that could go wrong had decided to. It would have been funny if I hadn’t effectively lost my sense of humor thanks to the pain. I had to deal with my weird feelings for Matt, hide them from Em, and somehow save up for the school I hadn’t even been accepted into. At thirty. Thirty!
“Summer?”
“Yeah, OK,” I said. “Prescribe me the meds. I’ll rest.” Even if it meant killing my dreams and hating every second of the next two days. At least it would give me the opportunity to avoid Matt and all the confusion that came along with him.
Chapter Ten
Matt
I helped her back into the car, the top of her head brushing the underside of my chin, and buckled her in, forcing myself not to turn my head. If I did, I’d take the kiss that I’d been obsessing over since I’d first carried her off the sand.
Get your shit together.
But I didn’t want to. It would be so much easier to give in to temptation with Summer. She made me weak. And I couldn’t abide weakness.
I shut the door for her then crossed around to my side of the car and got in. “Are you OK?” I asked, placing my hands on the wheel.
“Huh?”
“Are you OK?” I repeated.
Summer turned her head and speared me with a glare. “Just because I’m on meds doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten.”
“Forgotten what?”
She kept one eyebrow raised.
“Summer? I was talking about your ankle.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Then what were you talking about?”
“You. Me. Everything.” She exhaled slowly, shifted herself and winced. “Why did you bring me out here?”
“To the doctor?”
“No, to the moon.”
“Oof, someone’s snappy.”
“I wonder why,” she said, gesturing to her foot. “I wonder why that could be.”
“Don’t worry,” I replied. “You’ll be back on your feet in no time.”
“That’s not what this is about.”
I slid my hands over the wheel and let them rest at the bottom. “Enlighten me.”
“If you don’t know then I can’t tell you.”
“Come on, Summer, I’m not here to play games.”
She dragged her tongue over her bottom lip—it was a quick, angry gesture. Still, she was beautiful. “I’m not playing games, I’m just stating the obvious here. And I don’t want to have to do that. I mean, we slept together.”
“And that’s why you’re angry?” I asked. “Clearly, I didn’t do my job right.”
“This is not a laughing matter.” Summer folded her arms and stared at me. “We haven’t spoken about anything real, Matt.”
“What do you want to talk about?” But I had a hunch already. She wanted to rehash the past.
“I think you know. We can’t pretend that nothing’s going on. We’re going to wind up hurting Emmy,” she replied.
“We’re not doing anything now,” I replied gruffly. This was the last thing we needed to talk about or that I wanted to talk about. “There are no emotions involved. There’s nothing between us.” I let that hang in the air. It was a question veiled as a statement.