Owning Corey (14 page)

“What is it, Ben?” When he sees me, his eyes go dark for a moment, and his face colors. He looks embarrassed to be discovered passed out half naked on my couch. We must have had a wild night, but I don’t have time to think about that right now.

“Do you feel like helping me teach a CPR class in twenty-five minutes?”

He rubs his eyes and runs his hands through his hair. “Sure. Sign me up.”

“Alright, I’m getting a quick shower and brushing my teeth. Run get ready and meet me back here in ten minutes. I’m putting you on a cup of coffee now. And drink some water.” I feel like a master coordinator right now; I’m on fire.

He jogs to the pool house in his skivvies, and I grab my coffee and start his brewing. Then I hop into the shower. Five minutes of vigorous scrubbing, brushing the alcohol and heaven knows what out of my mouth from the night before, and I’m fresh as a daisy. Well, fresh as a daisy with a slight hangover.

When I return to the living room, Corey is drinking his coffee, looking unfairly attractive in his scrubs and damp hair.

“You look good for a hung-over guy,” he says to me.

“Funny, that’s exactly what I was just thinking about you. And I feel surprisingly good. How about you?”

“I’m fine after that speed shower. Adrenaline’s pumping, got some caffeine in my system…”

“Let’s go, then.” I lead the way to the car and drive the short distance to the hospital. We’re only one minute later than I promised, so I consider it a victory. It could’ve been so much worse.

“Sorry to keep you all waiting.” I bluster purposefully into the room. “We’ll make sure you get your money’s worth, though.” Most everyone nods or laughs. All but three of the students are female, so that’s a good sign. Between the two of us, we should be able to charm our way back into their good graces.

Five seats at one end of the long table are free. Corey takes a seat next to Julie, and I sit on the corner of the table. Julie pokes Corey in the shoulder, whispers something in his ear, and giggles quietly. “Kids…” I clear my throat and shoot them a hard look until they stop talking.

Class goes very well, considering it almost wasn’t. Somehow I’m only marginally hung over. Corey proves to be a great assistant, especially since he has such a natural adroitness where CPR is concerned. He’s doing the physical demonstrations for me, and all the women are panting as he performs chest compressions and mouth-to-mouth with a barrier device on our CPR dummy, Annie.

A group of four women approach me and request personal instruction. “Since you’re a doctor,” their leader explains.

Julie looks like she’s going to die laughing. “Not only is he handsome, he’s also an excellent doctor, ladies.” She puts her hand on my shoulder. “He’s Chief of Staff here, you know. You girls are so lucky you signed up for today. He rarely teaches this class.”

The women all widen their eyes and nod. Julie knows exactly what she’s doing, and judging from the look she’s giving me, she also knows I hate it.

“I’ll get you for this,” I whisper in her ear, and she laughs.

I look toward the other side of the room where Corey is working his magic on Annie, and he’s looking at me, watching me interact with the growing group of women around me. He smiles, but it’s only half-hearted, and I wonder if he’s more hung over than I thought. I don’t remember how much he drank last night, or much of anything else for that matter. With the drama this morning, I haven’t had much of a chance to think about it. I’m only glad I don’t feel worse than I do, and that I was able to make it to teach this class.

I was bitching at Corey yesterday about jeopardizing my job, and I almost did it myself by forgetting I’d promised to do this. I make a mental note to thank Julie for saving my ass.

“What is your number one tip for CPR, Dr. Hardy?” one of the women asks.

“I’d have to say the most important thing is that when you’re doing chest compressions, you want to get the full compression and full recoil. Remember, you’re physically pumping the blood for the heart. If you’re not pumping, it ain’t moving.”

“What if we’re not strong enough, being women and all?” another asks.

“Just give it your best effort. You’re stronger than you think, especially in times of stress. But please use correct hand placement and don’t break the xiphoid process. You could lacerate or puncture the diaphragm, or worse, the liver. You don’t want your patient to bleed out from a liver puncture.”

“Huh? Xiphoid what?” Most of the women look confused.

“Let’s show them,” Julie says, and there’s a bit of mischief in her eyes that I’m not so sure I like.

Before I know what’s going on, she’s hopped up onto the table, reclined onto her back, and pulled her scrub top up to just below her bra.

I’m shocked, and I look around like I’m going to get in trouble. The other males in the room must have a sixth sense or eyes in the back of their heads, because suddenly it seems like they’re all watching. Corey’s eyebrows shoot up, and he almost knocks his dummy onto the floor.

I look back down at Julie and clear my throat. Her belly is slightly rounded, soft and feminine. It looks like she gets in the tanning bed on occasion, because she’s got a golden glow even beneath her shirt. A pale yellow belly ring twinkles above her navel. She’s a very attractive girl, but to me she just looks like a sexual harassment lawsuit waiting to happen.

“Um… this is the xiphoid process, ladies, as seen on a real person rather than a dummy.” I touch her skin just below the sternum and press down lightly to highlight the location of the sternal notch. “I’m going to let you feel one by one, but press gently. You will notice that the bottom of the sternum extends slightly beyond the spot where the bottom ribs meet.”

The ladies take turns feeling Julie’s sternum and nodding, and I notice the three young men have now joined our group and copped their feels.

“It’s even more of a danger when you’re performing the Heimlich Maneuver,” I explain, “since the correct hand placement is just below the sternal notch. Just be sure when you do chest compressions that you place the heel of your hand higher on the sternum between the nipples.” I glance at Julie’s face, and she looks content, not shy at all. “Do you mind if I demonstrate proper hand placement on you, Julie?”

She shakes her head, her eyes soft and compliant. “Be my guest, Doctor. I’m yours to command.”

I clear my throat and place my hands on her sternum in the proper spot. “It can seem different when you’re looking at a real person rather than a dummy. And truthfully, a person’s weight and build can affect your perception as well.”

I pull Julie’s shirt down and take her hand to help her up. When she stands, she lifts onto her tiptoes and speaks quietly, close to my ear. “That was fun. Would you like to demonstrate mouth-to-mouth on me? I’ll bet everyone in here would pay good money to see that.”

And just like that, my world comes crashing down.

I’m sure everyone in this bar would pay good money to see the three of us play a game of spin the bottle.

Allie’s words reverberate through my head, and suddenly I’m remembering the bar, the drinks, the game, the kiss… I’m in a trance, staring at the wall, images from the night before superimposed on it like a movie screen.

The kiss. Jesus Christ on a cracker, Corey kissed me in that bar last night, right in front of everyone. In front of the daughter of one of my patients, for heaven’s sake. And it wasn’t just a little token kiss, either. It was the hottest, raunchiest, most sexual kiss I’ve ever received in my entire life. I think he licked my soul with that kiss.

The worst part is that I started it. I was being an asshole with my stupid magic trick, and he was just calling my bluff. Why would I even have done such a thing to him? Shame grips me tightly, squeezing the air from my lungs.

He was angry with me, I think. But he helped me home. How did I get to bed?

My face heats as I half remember asking Corey to stay with me in my bed.
Did I really do that?
Had he crawled into my bed with me when I was wearing nothing but my underwear?

He was sleeping on the sofa this morning. Maybe I’m imagining things. My brain is so damn foggy I can’t remember any details of what happened, but I do know one thing for sure. Something doesn’t feel right. There’s a memory lurking just beyond my mind’s grasp, taunting me, and it’s not pretty. It makes me feel like I want to run away, and I don’t even know what it is.

I physically shake the images from my head and look around. The ladies are talking among themselves, and Julie is talking too, but she keeps glancing at me with a concerned expression. I probably look like I’ve seen a ghost.

When I dare to glance in Corey’s direction, he’s looking at me again, and now I realize why he keeps watching me. He’s been waiting for me to remember, checking for a reaction. Suddenly I can’t breathe in here anymore, and I think I’m going to pass out.

“Excuse me,” I mumble, rushing to the door as fast as I can without alarming the students.

The hallway is empty, and I lean against the wall and slide down into a deep squat, resting my head in my hands. Julie follows immediately, with Corey on her heels.

“Dr. Hardy, are you okay?” She touches my forehead as if checking for a fever. “I hope I didn’t offend you about the mouth-to-mouth. I was just joking around, that’s all.”

“It’s fine, Julie.” I wave her away without looking up. “It’s not you.”

“Dr. Hardy is just a little under the weather today,” Corey tells her. “We’ve covered everything in there, anyway. Can you please excuse the class so I can take him home? We’ll do something to repay you for helping out.”

“Sure.” Her voice is shaky with worry. “Feel better, Dr. Hardy, okay?”

I hear the classroom door swing closed as she goes back in, and Corey kneels down beside me. He’s so big and so close, I can feel the heat coming off of his body. His nearness comforts me even when I know he’s the reason I’m feeling so bad.

“Come on, Ben.” He pulls me to my feet with little effort. “Let’s get out of here before that mob comes through the door.” He leads me down the hall and into the parking lot. “Mind if I drive?”

Without a word, I toss him the keys and drop into the passenger seat, wishing I could just fall asleep and get away from the way I’m feeling. It’s a lot like mourning, this emotion that’s weighing me down. It’s so deep I can’t even fathom it, like loss and regret and shame all rolled into one. After the fact as always, I realize I’ve been manic for days, but I can never see it until I crash.

We ride all the way home in silence, and thankfully he doesn’t try to turn on the radio like so many people would. For me silence can be cathartic, as if the negative space can pull off some of what’s bothering me. When the space around me is full of noise, there’s nowhere for it to go, so it just stays inside, roiling and festering and making me miserable.

Once we’re inside my garage, Corey moves quickly to the passenger side and opens the door before I can bring myself to do it. He follows me all the way inside the house and to my bedroom.

“You need more sleep,” he says. “Hangovers are a bitch, and there’s nothing like sleep to cure one.”

“I’m not hung over.” I unconsciously straighten the covers of my unmade bed. “Not much, anyway.”

“Oh.” Corey lurks in the doorway, fiddling with the drawstring on his scrub pants and not looking at me.

I sit down on the bed. “Would you like to come in?”

Why do I feel so sad?

He sits on the opposite edge of the bed, still not looking at me. “How much do you remember, Ben?”

The fact that he feels the need to ask me that question fills me with dread.

“I remember you… kissing me in the bar, that’s all. But I feel like there’s more… as if that’s not enough.” There’s a perpetual sinking feeling in my stomach that, like a Shepard scale or an old-fashioned barber pole, keeps going down and down but never hits bottom. “
It’s like something bad has happened, and I can’t remember. Don’t want to remember.
”

Corey keeps quiet, his dark brows drawn low and lips thinned to nothing.

“Your silence is making this worse for me, you know. I think you remember more than I do, and you’re keeping something from me.”

He taps his thumb rhythmically against his thigh and takes a deep, wavering breath. “What do you want from me, man? There’s nothing, okay? What could there possibly be? You got wasted. You acted like an asshole at the bar with your goddamn rigged coin toss, and I called you on it. Yeah, I kissed you. Big fucking deal. It’s nothing you weren’t asking for.”

He stands up, looking impossibly tall and oddly calm. His hand twitches slightly, and I realize that there are some powerful emotions behind his cool facade, and he’s barely got them reined in. God help the person who’s on the receiving end when he can no longer contain them. At the moment, that person is potentially me, and I’m a little bit scared. But just when I think he’s about to cut loose on me, his shoulders slump, and he walks out of the room, closing the door gently behind him.

I have the urge to scramble across the bed and run after him, but instead I lie down on top of the covers and use the remote to close the blackouts. Sleep is where I need to escape to right now, into the cool black nothingness where time doesn’t exist.