Constructing Us (New Adult Romance) (12 page)

She stayed quiet for a few more minutes, ducking her head against his shoulder, which half-shielded her face.
  She seemed a bit self-conscious all of a sudden.  Finally she said, “Well that was…intense.”

“Yeah,” Tragan agreed
with another sigh.  There was obviously no denying that.  “But intense is good…right?”  After a quiet moment, Andy responded with a soft “yes” and let her eyes drift shut.

By the time Brad finished listening to his voicemails, he was in a decidedly irritated mood.  Andy had made it clear that she was dropping out of Dr. Lassiter’s drug study, which, yes, was her right--but it was also extremely unhelpful.  The reason Brad had even thought of her for the study was because he’d heard Dr. Lassiter worrying over the fact that he needed at least twenty-five participants for the board to green-light the project, and he was short two.  That random eavesdropping moment a few months back had been fortuitous for Brad, because he’d been trying to find a way to get in Dr. Lassiter’s good graces for a while now.  Rumors were that he and Dr. Wellis--two of the hospitals
leading surgeons--were planning to break off from St. Catherine’s to start their own practice.  Brad was hungry to jump on that train; working directly with Lassiter and Wellis would mean more than just access to their wealth of patients, but it would also be a short cut to the kind of medical prestige it would normally take years to acquire. 

As a second-year resident, Brad knew he needed more credibility and experience to even be considered for a position with them.  But of course, a direct, personal rapport with Lassiter or Wellis would certainly expedite things.  A mutual respect--an appreciation.  Connections were what made careers, everyone knew that.  And doing Dr. Lassiter a favor, such as bringing in a much-needed person to participate in his CFS study, seemed like a great start to a good rapport.

Only now Andy was quitting mid-way, and so the favor wasn’t going to earn Brad much thanks, after all.  With a sigh, Brad slipped his phone back in his pocket, figuring he’d deal with Andy later.  They were supposed to get together after her nephew’s birthday party, but Brad hadn’t planned anything in particular.  Now he would, though.  When he saw her later, he’d have to step it up and put on his boyfriend A-game. 

The truth was, he and Andy had been drifting apart for a while now.  He hadn’t wanted to dwell on it--he was way too busy for that--and the timing hadn’t been right to break up with her.
  He’d talk to her tonight.  Obviously he couldn’t force her to continue with the drug study, but he’d do his best to convince her to keep going with it.  Yes, Brad did have his own motivations, but at the same time, he wasn’t trying to hurt Andy.  He cared about her and there was the
chance
that this new CFS drug could also help with Bronsteg Disorder.

Suddenly he felt his phone buzz.  Maybe it was Andy again
, he thought hopefully.  “Christ,” Brad muttered under his breath, as he read the screen.  This day just kept getting more annoying.  It was Sophia, the ER nurse he’d been hooking up with for the past few months, texting him about plans later.  It was a trap, he knew it.  She already knew he had plans with Andy, so obviously she was trying to bait him into an argument--the
same
argument. 

Are you coming over later?

No, I can’t.  I’m sorry.

Her again.  When are you finally going to break up with her?

I’ve told you.  If I break up with Andy now, she’ll quit the study out of spite.  As a doctor, I can’t let her do that.  Please try to understand.

I’m tired of waiting…

Please, Sophia.  I need you right now
.

He rolled his eyes as he typed that las
t part.  Sophia was hot, but she was suddenly clingy as hell, which was a major turnoff.  He had no intention of getting serious with her--but then, that had been the understanding from the beginning.  When they’d started their fling that first time in the on-call room, Sophia had been aggressive and seductive.  Only over the past couple months had she morphed into one of these
I-pretended-I-wanted-a-no-strings-physical-thing-but-really-I’m-trying-to-own-you
girls. 

He wouldn’t have minded giving her the brush-off, if it weren’t for the timing.  Since he wasn’t ready to break up with Andy yet, Sophia had to be managed.  Otherwise, out of jealousy, she might go off the deep end and contact Andy, blabbing everything like a clichéd “woman scorned.”  Obviously, Brad couldn’t have that.  Not only did he not want to hurt Andy, per se, but career-wise, Sophia going ballistic would only hurt
him.
  Andy would
definitely
drop Lassiter’s study in that case, and Brad would lose all pull there.  Thus, he had to tread carefully. 

Her next text appeared:
 
Ok,I’ll be patient
.

Thank you beautifu
l
, he typed back with another eye-roll.

Apparently t
hat earned him a smiley face.  Brad sighed and slipped his phone back in his pocket.  Not to be arrogant, but it boggled his mind sometimes that a nurse thought she could outsmart him.  In any case, he’d worry about Sophia another time.  Now he had a surgery to assist on, and later he’d talk to Andy.

~

It felt like they’d barely even relaxed when Andy bolted upright.  Rubbing her forehead, she said, “Oh God, the party! I forgot--I have to finish frosting the cupcakes.”  She shirked off the comforter and shimmied off the bed, not looking at Tragan as she continued, “Then I need to shower and get changed.”  Hastily, she snatched a thin white shirt from her closet and slipped it on.  Sitting up slowly, Tragan watched her, confused.  He wasn’t sure what the point was of the shirt.  It barely reached her ass, and he’d already seen her naked anyway.  “Okay, what else?” she said awkwardly, looking around. 

He raised his eyebrows
, questioning--but that was pointless, because she seemed to be avoiding eye contact.  “What’s wrong?” he asked cautiously. 

“Nothing,” she yelped
.  “I just have so much to do.”  She was still fluttering around, picking clothes up off the floor.  With her pjs and panties bundled in one hand, she seemed frantic as she tossed Tragan his jeans.  Either she was still cold, and racing around was warming her up, or this was a modesty thing he wasn’t understanding? 

“Okay…w
ell, I really have to hurry before my mom comes,” she said suddenly.

“Andy, calm down,” Tragan said, climbing out of bed.  “You’re taking my car, remember?” 

“Oh!”  Again she brought her hand to her forehead.  “T
hat’s right!  I forgot.”  While he slipped on his boxer-briefs, she snapped her fingers.  “But I still need to call her and tell her not to come.  And then get ready.”  She took a breath, adding, “Plus the cupcakes!”

“Andy, why are you so nervous?”

She swallowed, seeming uncomfortable.  “I’m not--I’m sorry--um, I--this was nice,” she babbled on, inching toward her door.  “I’m, uh, glad we tried this.”

“
Damn
,” Tragan remarked with a brief, mostly humorless laugh.  “That’s a new one for me.”

“I just--come on, you know what I mean,” she said, braving a fleeting glance into his eyes--finally.  “Well, I’ll see you later.  I’m going to shower and you’re already late anyway.  Thanks again for your car--I mean, if I can still use it,” she amended quickly.  Which sort of pissed him off.

“Of
course
you can,” Tragan said, his voice edged with annoyance. 

“All right.  Thanks!”

The next thing he knew, she was gone.  He heard her bathroom door close and water start to run.

What the hell? Tragan thought on the way to his own room to get a shirt.  A
nd guys got flak for their morning-after behavior?  Andy went from hot to skittish in no time at all.  She was almost acting like…

L
ike she regretted what just happened.  But that couldn’t be right.  Could it?

Maybe h
e should have pressed harder, but he didn’t really know how to start a big heart-to-heart with her when she seemed halfway out the bedroom door already.  He supposed he’d just chalk it up to morning-after weirdness.  Considering they’d just taken their friendship from PG to X, maybe she needed a chance to adjust. 

Either way, t
here was no way this would be a one-time thing.  And it sure as hell was not a mistake.

Chapter Twenty-four

The rest of the day dragged on, hauling Pellican’s shit from one apartment to another--and funny, how did Tragan and Matt always end up doing the heavy lifting? After Pellican threw a pissy little fit because Tragan didn’t bring his car, he ended up borrowing his neighbor’s Subaru.  Tragan had to drive it, though, since no one else knew how to drive a stick-shift.  Pellican spent half the day reminding him to be extra careful, because his neighbor was “the type to sue.” All in all, a tedious, aggravating day--made much more so by the fact that Tragan still hadn’t heard from Andy. 

He’d called her that afternoon, but she hadn’t answered her phone.  And she hadn’t replied to his texts.  He sent her the first one
from the T, on his way to Pellican’s.  It read
:
Sorry we didn’t get to talk about what happened, but it was AMAZING.  I really care about u
.
 

No response. 

A few hours later, he’d texted her again, asking simply
:
How’s the party?

Nothing.

Now Tragan walked across Grove Street, heading toward his building, and wondered how he
still
could not have heard a word from her.  Jesus, nothing all day?  Really?  Was she honestly avoiding him after what happened?  It might have broken his heart if it didn’t piss him off so much instead. 

On the other hand…he couldn’t
bring himself to believe it.  He and Andy had something.  There was no way he’d imagined their smoking hot chemistry in bed, or the way it always felt when they were together.  So why had she gone dark like that? 

The
rest of the guys had gone out after the move, but Tragan passed.  Told them he was too tired, but obviously he wanted to see Andy and clear the air.  Last he’d heard, Bardo convinced them to hit The Bubble Bar, because it was usually flooded with girls. 

As he climbed the stairs to his apartment, he thought again about that morning--and about what Andy would say to him tonight.  He would definitely kiss her if she didn’t kiss him first.  He turned the key and shoved the door open, hoping she was home by now, but instead finding the most unwelcome sight he could imagine. 

“Brad,” Tragan blurted, recognizing the guy’s mannequin profile immediately--as he sat on
his
couch, watching
his
TV.

“Hey,” Brad said, sparing him a casual glance over his shoulder.  “I’m just waiting for Andy.  She must be running late.”

Still glaring at him, Tragan processed the words.  So had Brad not talked to her, either?  Obviously if he had, he would know if she was running late or not.

“Is she expecting you?” Tragan asked, hoping like hell he’d say no, that this was a surprise, that she had no idea he was coming tonight.

“Yes, we have plans.”

Fuck.

“Uh…I didn’t realize you had a key,” Tragan stated, keeping his anger in check.  Technically this guy hadn’t done anything wrong, so there was no reason for Tragan to want to kick his ass.  And yet he did. 

B
rad clicked the remote to turn off the TV, as he came to his feet and nodded.  “Yes, Andy gave me a key, in case of an emergency.   I hope you don’t mind.”

Tragan didn’t bother responding to that last part.  Instead he asked, “By the way, have you talked to her today?  I…was just wondering how the party went,” he improvised.

“I’ve been at the hospital, in and out of surgeries all day,” Brad answered vaguely, then came around the sofa to stand in front of Tragan.  “Listen, can I talk to you, man to man?”

“Sure,” Tragan managed, watching him through guarded eyes.

“I’l
l be honest,” Brad began, “I had my apprehensions when Andy told me she was going to move into this apartment.  It’s understandable that I would be a little concerned.  But she seems very happy here.  In fact, she told me that she considers you a good friend.”  A sour taste filled Tragan’s mouth.  He didn’t want to be her goddamn
good friend
.  “I want to thank you for that,” Brad finished, smiling smoothly as he extended his hand.

“No problem,” Tragan replied tightly,
reluctantly accepting the handshake.

“As her friend, you’ve probably noticed that Andy’s been a little off lately.  She hasn’t been herself; I th
ink she’s been distracted.  And, of course, I’ve been so busy at the hospital.  Saving lives is a bitch,” Brad threw in and chuckled at his own remark.  Then straightened the thick shiny watch on his wrist.  “In any case, I’m going to make it up to her tonight.  Take her out for a special romantic night.  She deserves it, you know?”

Tragan swallowed down a bitter, painful shard of jealousy, while his chest suddenly felt
constricted, like his heart was in a vice.  With the way Brad was talking, it was like he hoped Tragan--as Andy’s
friend
--would put in a good word for him or something.  Did he think that Andy stayed up fretting and confiding about how Brad worked too much?  Please, she barely talked about the guy.  And this morning her so-called boyfriend seemed to be the
last
thing on her mind.

As Brad went on about the romantic dinner he had planned in the North End, followed by a wine festival in
Cambridge, Tragan’s blood began to boil.  Was Andy seriously still sticking with this guy?

Swearing
under his breath, Tragan turned and walked toward the door.  He had to get out of there.  No way was he going to stand here when Andy showed up and tried to act like their steamy encounter in her bedroom had never happened.  No way was he politely going to endure Brad’s “hi, gorgeous” bit and their whole perfect couple act. 

I
t was all so obvious now.  Earlier, Andy had gotten caught up in the moment.  Sex with Tragan had been a fun diversion, but obviously not a game changer. 
That
was why she’d acted so distant afterward, like she was immediately trying to put space between them.  She wasn’t serious about him--not the way he was about her. 

“I’m actually headed out myself,” Tragan explained
brusquely over his shoulder.  Hell, he had to say
something
; he’d just turned around while Brad was in mid-sentence and stalked off.  “I only stopped home to get something,” he lied.

“Oh, okay,” Brad called to his back.  “W
ell, you have a good night.” 

“Right,” was Tragan’s gruff reply before the door banged shut
behind him.