Chapter 4
I cleared my throat and flipped open my notebook. "Your name?"
There was no reply.
Julian looked at me, silent and stubborn.
I looked up at him and shot him a cool, indifferent glance.
"Not gonna tell me, huh?" I said.
I pretended to put my pen down.
"Alright, I'll go change the dressings for the other beds first. Let's keep that IV drip hanging for now," I said.
"Julian Godwin!" he spat out finally, practically grinding his teeth.
"Age?"
"Twenty."
"What brought you to the hospital?" I asked, already knowing the answer, a smile tugging at my lips.
Julian closed his eyes, like he was psyching himself up for something huge.
After a long pause, he finally forced out through gritted teeth, "Acute appendicitis."
"Oh," I drawled, "Appendicitis, huh?
"I thought it was some rare disease or something."
I jotted it down, acting all considerate as I tried to "comfort" him. "Don't worry. It's just a minor surgery. We do these all the time in our department.
"Especially your surgeon, my mentor, Dr. Godwin. She's an authority in this field.
"So take it easy and focus on getting better, alright?"
With every word I said, Julian's expression grew darker.
He probably never thought he'd end up in front of me, letting me call all the shots.
Inside, I was absolutely thrilled, but on the outside, I kept it professional.
"So, have you pass any gas after your surgery yesterday?" I asked.
Julian's cheeks flushed bright red.
He turned his head away, mumbling under his breath, "No."
"How's your urination? Is everything working fine? What color is it, anyway?" I pressed, unable to stop my eyes from drifting toward the clear bag hanging by his side.
Julian's body went rigid.
He whipped his head around, shooting me a glare that could cut glass.
"Alyssa, don't push it!" he snapped.
"How am I pushing it?" I shot back, feigning innocence as I waved my notebook. "Julian, I'm just doing my job as the assigned intern.
"These are all important post-op indicators we have to monitor.
"Your recovery depends on these details, so I have to ask, document everything, and report it to my supervising doctor."
I played the "doctor's duty" card, leaving him completely speechless.
His chest was heaving. He was clearly pissed off.
But he couldn't come up with a single comeback because I was right about everything.
All he could do was glare at me, his eyes shooting daggers.
If looks could kill, he would've murdered me a thousand times over.
Watching him so frustrated and helpless made my day.
"Alright, next question. How's your incision feeling right now? Is it more of a sore, bloated kind of pain, or does it feel sharp and stabbing?" I asked, already starting to reach for his hospital gown.
"Don't touch me!" Julian snapped, his reaction almost over the top.
He grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight.
His palm was burning hot, and his grip was surprisingly strong. He was nothing like a patient fresh out of surgery.
I was stunned for a second by his grip.
After all these years, this was the first time we'd ever been this close physically.
I could feel the warmth of his palm and the slight roughness of his calluses.
His wrist bone was slightly raised from how tightly he held on.
My heart skipped a beat for no reason.
For a split second, the air between us went completely still.
Julian seemed to realize something was off, too.
He let go of my wrist like he'd touched a hot stove, jerking his hand away.
I instinctively pulled my hand back, hiding it behind my back, my fingertips still warm from his touch.
Julian muttered, his voice hoarse, "I'll do it myself."
With slow, cautious movements, he gently lifted the edge of his hospital gown and exposed the gauze-covered incision on his abdomen.
I gathered my focus and leaned in to take a careful look.
"Looks like there's no redness or swelling, and the stitches are nice and dry," I said.
I jotted down my observations in my notebook as I checked.
"Looks like you're healing up pretty well," I added.
I was close to him and caught the faint scent of disinfectant on him, mixed with a clean, soapy fragrance.
It wasn't the usual sharp hospital smell. Surprisingly, it was kind of pleasant.
I could even make out the fine lines of his skin on his neck, and watched his Adam's apple nervously bob up and down.
I steadied myself, telling myself to keep it professional.
"You're good. Nothing to worry about," I said.
I straightened up and snapped my notebook shut.
"Rest up, and ring the bell if you need me. I'll handle your IV," I added.
With that, I turned to slip away.
If I stayed any longer, I was afraid I'd let my professional facade slip.
As I reached the door, I heard his voice behind me, low and muffled. "Alyssa."