Awkward. Read online

  “I don’t work again until Thursday. I’ll be fine by then. Stop worrying, Dr. Darcy.”

  “Jack.”

  “Dr. Darcy,” she says with a wink. “Tell Allie I hope she feels better.”

  As if on cue, Allie rolls over. “What the hell happened to her?!”

  “Well...” I approach her bed, torn in half by the cute twinkle of blue in her eyes.

  She’s got the most innocent expression in the world when she wakes; it never lasts more than a few minutes, but those are some of the minutes I cherish most.

  “And me?” she adds. “What am I doing here? Again?”

  “Which part should I start with? The part where I accidentally nailed Caroline in the face with a kickball, or the part where you collapsed on her afterward?”

  “Er, yeah. Gee, we’re quite the team.” Allie pushes herself into a sitting position. Her face is quite miserable-looking. “I’m an idiot.”

  “No, I’m the idiot.”

  “Yeah,” Allie says, brushing a piece of hair out of her eyes. “I guess you are. Rule Number Five: No smoking pretty girls in the face with kickballs.”

  “I think that should go without saying.”

  “One would think,” she says with a shy smile. “Just tell me you didn’t aim for her face.”

  “Hell, no. I would never.”

  “I know. That brings me to Rule Number Six: Don’t play kickball with pretty girls if you can’t aim for shit.”

  “I will make a note of that.” I tap the pen tucked into the clipboard I’m still holding. I don’t know why I’m holding it—to give my hands something to do, I suppose, while Allie was out cold. “How do you feel?”

  “Embarrassed.”

  “I meant—”

  “I’m fine. How’s Caroline?”

  “She just walked out of here.” I thumb over my shoulder at the door. “Believe it or not, she looks better than you.”

  “That’s not saying much. She looks like a raccoon, poor thing. You really nailed her hard.”

  “Phrasing.”

  “You really kicked the ball hard,” she corrects with a light laugh. “Will she recover a hundred percent?”

  “Absolutely. Doctor said it was a slight break, but nothing to worry about. She’ll be good as new in no time.”

  “Well, I suppose that could make for a cute first date story.”

  “Allie...”

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll stop.” She hesitates, running a hand across her forehead as she sways slightly in bed. “I just want to see you happy. You asked me for help, and I want to make good on my promise.”

  I sit on the bed next to her and rest a hand on her knee. “I asked you for help learning how to date properly. The rest—happiness, love, whatever goes along with it—is up to me.”

  She thinks on this for a moment, her lips turning into a sweet little pout. Eventually, she nods and covers my hand with hers. “That’s pretty deep, Dr. Darcy.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Speaking of deep,” she continues, completely unaware that the way she’s resting her hand on mine is sending my pulse skyrocketing. “I hope I didn’t get you into too much trouble with Dr. Douchebag.”

  “Dr. Diamond?” I hide a smile, wondering if she’d read my mind. “No, it’s fine.”

  “That’s all you’ve got? That it’s fine?”

  “Why do you sound so surprised?”

  “I just thought...” She hesitates, her fingers squeezing on top of mine. “I thought I’d get a lecture. You know, this is why I keep business and pleasure separate,” she says, dropping her voice to a low register and imitating me. “I really am sorry I flew off the handle at him. He was just such a... such a....”

  “Jerk, I know,” I say. What comes next surprises both Allie and me. “Thank you.”

  Her eyes peek out from under those pretty lashes. “What’d you just say?”

  “I said thank you.” Again, this is alarming to both of us, and her eyebrow crooks upward as I continue. “I appreciate you watching my back.”

  I’d had it on the tip of my tongue to give her the very speech she’d anticipated, so this change in action has me wondering what’s come over me. A combination of things, I suppose. Mostly, the realization that Allie might be the only friend I have in this world who’d go to bat for me against Dr. Diamond.

  “I thought it was sweet,” I tell her, squeezing her hand back. “And I know everybody else is thinking he deserved it, too.”

  “It’s nothing you wouldn’t have done for me.”

  “Maybe not, but still. I appreciate it. I also appreciate you warning me about the date for my mother’s award.”

  “Jack!” She sits up straighter, her eyes fixing on me. “Don’t tell me you thought I forgot!”

  “Forgot what?”

  “What were you going to tell me during the game? About you not being in town for it to matter?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing, Allie, we can talk about it later.” I shake my head, suddenly reluctant to tell her about the phone call I’d received today over my lunch break. “Let’s talk about it next week over Sunday dinner. It’s really not important, and—”

  “Jack William Darcy.” Whenever she uses my full name, it means she’s pulling out all the stops to get my attention. “Don’t you dare keep secrets from me.”

  She begins to withdraw her hand from mine, so I flip mine upside down and hold her palm tight. Her eyes follow the movement, her lips parting slightly as she catches sight of our locked fingers. She’s not the only one who’s caught off-guard by my movement, but it just feels right—especially with the news that’s about to follow.

  “I accepted a job interview today.”

  “That’s great! Where? When?” Allie shakes her head looking dazed. “When do you start? What will you be doing? I didn’t know you were looking. Are you keeping secrets from me? Don’t start keeping secrets from me. That’s how friendships start to fail. Before you know it, we’ll only be talking once per day, and then once per week, and then once per month, and then I’ll sink into a deep depression.”

  This is why we’re friends. For all of my logical, straightforward thinking, Allie is a bundle of feelings and emotions and heart. Where I would look at this information like a critical piece of news to process and digest, she reacts with gusto. Her fingers squeeze mine so hard I have to disentangle them before she puts me out of work for good.

  “I said a job interview.”

  “Yeah, but that’s a formality.” She gives the biggest eye roll of all time. “I mean, you’re Doctor Jack Darcy. Who wouldn’t hire you?”

  “Since when are you aware of my credentials?”

  “Come on, you’re the hottest doctor on the market!”

  I raise one eyebrow.

  “Come on, look at you!” Allie scowls. “I didn’t mean hot, hot, I meant...forget it.”

  “That’s not even remotely close to true, but—”

  “—everyone loves working with you, and—”

  “—how could you even know that?” I try not to sound quizzical, but I’m genuinely curious as to how Allie formulated her assessment. “You’ve never seen me work.”

  “I see how much people look up to you. I mean, even at the kickball game. Didn’t you notice that even though Dr. Douc—Dr. Diamond—claimed the captain spot for himself, everyone looked to you for the starting lineup?”

  “No.”

  “Come on, Jack. Dr. Douchebag might think he’s the captain, but it’s you who everyone respects. It’s you who everyone wants on their team.” She blinks, shakes her head, and gives a soft smile. “Any person, any hospital, any...what the hell did you apply for, anyway?”

  “I didn’t apply, they called me.”

  “Exactly.” She nods, as if this proves her point. “They want you because you’re the full package, and obviously word has spread throughout the state about you.”

  My chest constricts at this, at Allie’s unfounded yet unceasing belief in
me. Surely, she just said it to be nice and encouraging, yet the fact that she seems to mean it is the part that matters. I find it surprisingly difficult to breathe as I drop the other shoe.

  “They were calling to offer me a position as head of a new research department. A promotion, technically,” I tell her. “The hospital is in Florida.”

  “Florida?” She looks mystified, as if the very thought of Florida is a confusing one. “Florida?”

  “The 27th state? The peninsula at the bottom of our country? Home to Disney World?”

  “Florida?” The thought still seems to boggle her mind. “Are you seriously thinking of moving to Florida?”

  “Allie, it’s just—”

  “They say it’s crazy down there! There are alligators, and...bugs! Big bugs! And snowbirds, whatever the hell those are, and there are—”

  I frown. “People who spend winters in—”

  “Florida,” she gasps, and this time it’s a statement. “When do you start? Why didn’t you warn me? This is all so sudden. Who will eat Sunday night Chinese food with me? I’m going to die of starvation. Jack, you can’t do this to me!” She pauses, swallows, holding up a finger for me to stay quiet. “But, I’m very happy for you.”

  “It’s just a phone interview.”

  “Hold on a second. Why didn’t you just say that?”

  “I did, but...” I trail off, thinking I probably shouldn’t have told Allie all of this just after she’d woken up from her second bout of unconsciousness in one day. She’s looking a little peaked, and I’m worried she’ll slip away into another dead faint if I don’t do something to assuage her fears.

  “Jack that’s...” She clears her throat, struggling to put on a smile. “That’s really great. I mean it.”

  “Look, I wasn’t out job hunting. I would’ve told you if I had been—you know that. I tell you everything.”

  Just about everything, I correct in my head. But I can’t tell her everything because if I did, she’d know that the feel of her hand in mine is so right—too right—it has me aching for more.

  “Well, I suppose that makes me feel better.” She glances up, and now that the news has had a few moments to sink in, the smile on her face is genuine. “Tell me more! I’m really excited for you, Jack. How do you feel?”

  “How do I feel?”

  “Has it seriously not occurred to you to think about how this makes you feel?”

  I give a subtle shake of my head. “It’s work—business. It doesn’t matter how I feel. It does matter that it’s a great opportunity. I’d be doing important research, and it—”

  “I thought you didn’t want to do research. I thought you got into medicine to help people.”

  “Research is helping people. It’s critically important to the advancement of medicine.”

  “I know, I understand that, I just thought you liked being hands-on with patients.”

  “I do, but this is a great opportunity.”

  “You really haven’t thought about your feelings,” she says with a half-smirk on her face. “Do you even want this job, Jack?”

  “I accepted the job interview.”

  “But is it what you want?”

  “It’s the natural next step in my career, and I think—”

  “That’s not what I asked. Your parents would want you to take it.” She squeezes my forearm as her fingers pull gently, sweetly over my skin. “Is it what you want?”

  “It’s a damn phone interview!” I stand up, shocking Allie with my outburst. “I am just telling you the facts. That’s it. I don’t know how I feel.”

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “I was just—”

  “It’s a good opportunity,” I say, emphatically. “I accepted the phone interview. That’s it. It doesn’t mean I’ve even got the job.”

  “Okay, okay, Dr. Psycho. I was just looking out for you.” She raises her hands in surrender. “It’s probably time for me to get going.”

  “Allie, wait—”

  She struggles to stand, her legs wobbling like a baby fawn searching for its first step. I stop my pacing and reach for her, sliding my arms around her waist as hers come up and around my neck.

  I slide my other arm under her legs, scooping her into an embrace across my chest before she can take another spill and crack her head against the ground for a third time today.

  The only problem is that her head rests against my chest, and her fingers inch tighter around my neck. I lean over the bed to drop her back on it, but she doesn’t let go of me, and short of my peeling her hands from behind my head, she’s stuck to me.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, gently. I already feel like I’ve taken over the role of Dr. Douchebag. “I’m sorry, Allie. It’s been a long day, and I have a lot to think about. I didn’t mean to snap.”

  The soft sound of a sniffle rises to my ears, and this stuns me. Allie is not a crier. I can count the number of times she’s cried in front of me on one hand. The first time was when her dog died when she was seven years old. The last time was when a student in her class had been diagnosed with cancer two years back. Needless to say, it takes a lot to make Allie cry.

  I sit on the bed, my heart breaking in half as I cradle her against me. Another sniff follows the first, and then the hot wetness of tears against my shirt signals that I’ve officially taken over the title of Dr. Douchebag.

  I’ve made Allie cry.

  I don’t think I’ve ever disliked myself more, and I have been in many painfully awkward and uncomfortable situations, particularly with women—yet this one takes the cake.

  “I am so sorry, Allie. I didn’t mean to make you cry. Please, please, stop crying. I don’t know what to do—”

  A big sniffle interrupts me as she clings to my chest. “Just let me hang out here for a minute,” she says in a warbly voice. “I’m emotionally sensitive today.”

  “Is it—”

  “Don’t you dare ask if I’m on my period, Jack Darcy,” she snaps. “I just learned that my best friend, my oldest friend, my Chinese-food-eating-partner-in-crime might be moving to the penis of America. I am allowed a few tears.”

  I don’t know where to start, or what to say about that. I personally have no problems with the state of Florida, and I’m pretty sure that Allie doesn’t either—save for the fact that she sees it as the place on earth that’s stealing me away from her.

  So, I let her cling to me, and I let her tears fall against my chest. Thankfully, it’s not one of those shoulder-heaving, wear-her-eye-sockets-out sort of cry. It’s more of an angry sniffle, and this gives me hope that I’ll be able to pull her out of it.

  “I swear, it’s just a phone interview, Allie. I think you might be overreacting. I haven’t even been offered a job yet, let alone accepted it.”

  “So, you might not go?”

  “I probably won’t go. There are a lot of logistics to be worked out before that’s even an option.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like a series of interviews that’s likely to take months. It’s a new position they’re looking to create, not one they’re rushing to backfill. I wouldn’t even start until October, and that’s if everyone likes me, and if I’m qualified.”

  “Of course people will like you. Of course you’re qualified,” she retorts. “You’re Jack Darcy.”

  “All I meant when I said I wouldn’t be around for my mother’s awards ceremony is that I may have interviews that week or be out of town—”

  “—looking for places to live in your new stupid state.”

  “Allie.”

  “Sorry,” she says, finally calming her breathing and wiggling from my arms. Once she’s sitting on the bed, she wipes her eyes and forces her gaze to meet mine. “I’m just surprised you’re looking.”

  “I told you, I wasn’t—”

  “You wouldn’t have accepted the interview if you weren’t interested,” she says with a sardonic smile. “Over the last twenty-seven years, if I’ve learned one thing, it’s that Jack Dar
cy doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do.”

  I tilt my head to the side, the pressure on my chest lifting slightly at the sight of the smile on her face. “It’s a good business decision to go through with the interview. It’s a fantastic opportunity.”

  “Why?” She shakes her head, her eyes sparkling from leftover tears. “What makes you want to leave all of this?”

  Her arms spread wide, and I survey the hospital around me. I know she doesn’t mean this room, this facility, this salary and career. She means this life—everything I’ve built up for the last thirty-two years.

  “It’s not that I want to leave this,” I say, leaning on the last word heavily. “Or you. But I’ve been here for all of my career so far. I’m good at my job. If I want to advance—”

  “You could advance right here if you wanted to,” she says. “I know it’s a great opportunity, but what else is there for you?”

  “I don’t know, Allie,” I tell her, struggling to keep my voice even. It rises slightly, and I’m well aware she’s pushing my buttons. “New opportunities. New experiences. A new place to live—I’ve always been here, in our little bubble.”

  “Is our little bubble not good enough?”

  Her voice is a quiet search, her eyes watching mine for an answer. I can’t give her one. Not an honest, satisfactory answer. Anything I tell her will be a lie.

  The truth is that I’ve come to suspect my dating issues stem partly from my relationship with Allie. Not because she’s doing anything to sabotage them, but because she’s too freaking incredible.

  She’s smart, and she’s hilarious, and she’s the kindest soul this world has ever seen. Not only does she care about me, and her students, and her family, but she exists in this world like every day might be her last.

  She laughs louder than anyone I’ve ever known, and though she doesn’t cry often, when she does, it’s as if the world is coming to an end. Unlike me, she feels things, even the smallest of things, straight to her heart.

  How the hell can I find someone out there who’ll impress me more than she already has?

  “The truth is...” I begin, but then I pause.

  If I were being honest, I’d tell her the truth is that I’m already in love with someone, and it’s her. She’s told me multiple times that she’s not interested in me, and I’m beginning to realize that since I can’t have her, I might need some breathing room. Some space away from Allie to think, to regroup, to get my life back in order to the way things were before she flipped everything upside down. A new opportunity—new surroundings, new friends—might be the answer.