Sweet Nothing (12 page)

“Yep,” he said, putting his hand on the small of my back as we walked toward the locker room.

He stopped just outside while I went in to retrieve my purse and wash my hands. When I came out, Ashton was standing in front of him, tears in her eyes.

“Really?” I said to Josh.

“Carissa, I don’t know how more clearly to say it. I’ve been saying it for four months.”

“Saying what? I don’t understand.”

“It happened once. If I’d known you couldn’t let it go, it wouldn’t have happened at all. I’m just going to say this one last time: I’m not interested in a relationship with you. Please stop contacting me.”

Ashton puffed out her chest again, taken aback. Her mouth trembled, and then she glared at me before stomping off.

Josh raised his eyebrows and then formed his mouth in an
O
shape before blowing out. “She’s different.”

“Sounds like you broke her heart.”

“I told her before we went to her place—which is filthy and smells like baba ganoush, by the way—that I wasn’t looking for a relationship. She said she wasn’t, either.”

“No one has accused Ashton of being rational.”

“You’re rational, and sensible, and selective … I kind of like that about you.”

I chuckled. “That sounds so boring.”

“Definitely not boring,” he said, opening the passenger side door.

He drove us to an apartment building just three blocks from mine. When he shut off the engine, I reached for the lever but hesitated. “Is this your place?” I asked.

“It is. I just need to grab my wallet. I was in a hurry.” He flashed what I was sure was his most charming grin, and then he pushed out of the car and jogged around to my side, opening my door. “You don’t have to come in if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Does your apartment smell like baba ganoush?” I asked.

He laughed. “No.”

He took my hand and held it until we reached the front stoop, seeming disappointed to let go. He started to use his key, but the door swung open.

“Oh!” a woman said. She wasn’t much younger than me, with a dirty blonde bob and thick glasses.

“Good timing,” Josh said.

“Who’s this?” she said, stepping aside so we could walk in.

“This,” Josh said, gesturing to me proudly, “is Avery Jacobs.”

“Nurse?” Cinda asked, pushing up her glasses.

Josh chuckled, looking down for a second. “Yes, she’s a nurse.”

Cinda nodded. “Nice to meet you. Your fur baby has been checked on thrice, walked, played with, and I’m sorry to report, he barfed in your kitchen.”

Josh made a face. “What did you feed him?”

“I cannot confirm nor deny that I am now out of Cajun-style deli meat.”

“Cinda, I told you he can’t handle that shit.”

She suppressed a giggle. “But he loves it so much! You can’t even tell. I bleached your entire floor and ventilated your apartment. I also did your dishes, because … gross.”

Josh seemed confused. “I didn’t have any dishes in the sink.”

She thought about it. “Maybe that was someone else’s dishes. You all run together. I’m heading out for work.”

“Babysitting the Ramsey twins still?”

“They haven’t killed me yet,” she said as she passed.

Josh shut the door and grabbed my hand again, leading me up two flights of stairs to the second door on the right. He grabbed the knob. “This is me.” He motioned across the hall. “That’s Cinda. I always know she’s home because of the kids screaming.”

“
Her
kids?” I asked, alarmed.

“No.” He chuckled. “No, Cinda is a professional babysitter. She’s always busy. If she’s home, she has somebody’s kids with her. Even at night. She makes a
killing
,” he said, pushing open his door. “She also sits for me because I’m gone so much. I probably shouldn’t have gotten a dog, but Quinn didn’t want him, and it seemed like a Good Samaritan thing to do at the time …” His voice trailed off as he opened the door to his apartment.

His apartment was blank like mine, just a ratty couch, recliner, and hutch in the living room. I breathed in, and instead of chicken vomit or baba ganoush, I smelled bleach, mint, and Josh’s cologne.

“Lived here long?” I asked.

“Nope. Just a few months. I had to find something quick so I could stop couch surfing.”

“And why is that?” I asked.

“Why was I couch surfing?”

I nodded.

“Because I’d just moved to town.”

“Why?”

“Damn.” He grinned. “Didn’t know this was going to turn into the Spanish Inquisition.”

I clutched my arms. The air conditioning was on full blast. “I’m alone with you in your apartment. I think I’m entitled to the basics.”

“You cold?” he asked.

“It feels like a meat locker in here.”

“I sleep better that way.”

“How do you afford the bill?” I asked.

Josh disappeared into a doorway and then came out holding a gray hoodie. He tossed it to me. “Put it on. It’s really warm.”

I looked down. “I don’t think you want it against my scrubs.”

“C’mon, like I don’t get lathered in bodily fluids all day? It’ll buff out. Put it on before you freeze.”

“
Buff out
? That’s an odd thing to say.”

He shrugged. “Like buffing a scratch from a car. My dad used to always say it for everything. We’re gearheads. I get elbow deep in grease on a regular basis. It relaxes me. Clears my head.”

I slipped the hoodie over my head. A green Adidas logo was stamped on the front, and it happened to be the softest thing I’d even worn. “God, this is amazing.”

“Isn’t it? It’s my favorite.”

The gesture wasn’t lost on me that he’d handed me his favorite sweatshirt to wear. “I’ll get it back to you after I wash it.”

“No rush … There you are!” he said, grabbing his wallet off the hutch and stuffing it into his back pocket.

“Now we can go. Sorry about that.” He called his dog, reaching down to pet him.

“That’s an awful name. Sounds like a serial killer,” I said.

Josh feigned offense. “You don’t like it? Okay, you name him, then.”

“What? No. I just meant …”

Josh stood, crossing his arms. “I’m serious. Give him a better name if you don’t like it.”

“Like a nickname?”

“Yeah. I’m still calling him …” Tiny whimpers came from the floor, and I bent over to run my fingers through coarse black and brown hair. “Didi,” I said. “That’s close enough to what he’s used to, so I don’t confuse him.”

Josh wrinkled his nose. “He’s a boy, Avery.”

“Fine, just Dee, then.”

“Dee it is,” Josh said, bending over to ruffle the hair on Dee’s head. “I’ll be back later.”

Dee whined when we approached the door.

My mouth curved down. He looked so lonely, and I knew exactly how that felt. “You just got home. Maybe we should stay here?”

“You sure?” he asked.

“Yeah, we can have JayWok deliver and watch a movie.”

Josh shook his head. “No movies. I’m kind of enjoying the inquisition.” He jogged back to the door, opened it, and then grabbed his phone. The dog wiggled its butt against Josh’s ankles again, and then ran over to me. I picked him up and sat on the couch.

“Hey, it’s Josh.”

I smiled. Josh called them as much as I did. “The same for me, and Avery’s over here. Yeah, chicken fried rice and low-sodium soy.” He gestured to me, making sure that was all right. I nodded. “Delivery. Thanks, Coco.”

“If I still had a car,” I said, “I’d ask you to teach me to change my oil. That would save me a ton of money.”

He shrugged. “I can do it. I don’t mind.”

I looked at him, unimpressed. “I need you to teach me, that way I can do it on my own when you tell me you’re not interested in a relationship.”

He looked around his apartment and then walked over to me, sitting on the cushion next to me. “Hadn’t crossed my mind, actually.”

“Right,” I deadpanned.

I wasn’t about to feign naïvety just to make Josh feel better. I had to at least protect my dignity, if not my pride. Knowing what the other nurses were thinking, seeing us chatting and making plans when he delivered patients to the ER, was hard enough. I had been one of those nurses once, making bets with Deb on how many drinks it would take Josh to get a particular nurse into bed, and how many days she would cry after.

Work would be easier later if I played this right.

“I thought we weren’t going to do that,” he said, unhappy.

“Do what?”

“Play games.”

“I recall you saying play
nice
. Technically, that’s playing something.”

“That’s not what I meant. You know,” he said, shifting uncomfortably. “Like you said, let’s be brave. Balls out. No back and forth, no anticipation of the other person’s next move. Let’s cut through all the bullshit and just be honest without worrying we sound too … anything.”

“Okay,” I said, unsure.

“I like you,” he admitted. “A lot. I was attracted to you before the accident, but since, everything’s changed. I want to get to know you better, but I’ve been sort of a dick since I got here, and I’m fairly certain you don’t believe a word that comes out of my mouth.”

“No, but you oversharing is mildly entertaining. Tell me more.”

He smiled. “You look exceptionally beautiful in my hoodie. Avery?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Um, sure.” I cringed at how awkward I sounded.

He raked his fingers gently into my hair at the nape of my neck and leaned in. I closed my eyes, and then I heard whimpering. Dee jumped up, licking and nibbling my chin.

I squealed, leaning back and wiping my chin with the hoodie sleeve.

“C’mon!” Josh said, chuckling while he set the wirehaired dog on the floor.

“He missed you,” I said.

He shook his head, pointing to the ball of fur. “No, no,” he said, trying not to laugh. He turned to me. “Ask me something.”

“Anything?”

“Almost anything.”

“What can’t I ask?”

“Oh, c’mon!”

“You said to ask you something! At least answer that.”

“I don’t like talking a lot about my past.”

“Join the club.”

“Oh, sweet Avery Jacobs has skeletons?” He smirked.

“Everyone has skeletons. So, pretty much everything is off the table with you.”

“Ask me. I can’t promise I’ll answer now, but I promise to answer later.”

I thought for a minute. “Why did you move to Philly?”

“My grandfather got me a job at LifeNet here.”

I nodded. “Does your grandfather live here?”

“He did when he first married Granny. They moved to Abbottstown when she found out she was pregnant. He had some connections here and said it would be good for me.”

“Why?”

Josh squirmed. “Later.”

I nodded. “Were you always so … charismatic?”

“That’s a nice way to say it. Y’know, it never occurred to me to be embarrassed about it, but sitting with you at the moment, I kind of am.”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s not like I’m a virgin.”

“You’re not?” I couldn’t discern the look on his face.

My shoulders fell, and I looked at him as if I were bored with his question. “Please. I’m twenty-four. Do you know anyone our age who’s a virgin?”

“Just you.”

I cackled.

He shifted in his seat. “How many?”

“Are you fucking kidding me with that? You don’t ask a woman how many people she’s slept with on the second date.”

“If this were a date, I’d be ashamed of myself. We’re hanging out … getting to know each other. So far, I’ve learned I love it when you curse. It’s hot.”