enemy to doctor - the hating game

1 - waking up

Cold. Something cool and wet is being pressed against my forehead soothing the heat that has started developing over my whole entire body.
A drop runs down the side of my face down to my chin. Then it is gone. Brushed away by a rough skinned finger that most certainly does not belong to me.
I open my eyes.

"Hey."

Josh. Out of all goddamn people, Josh goddamn Templeman is sitting next to me.

"You were out for about an hour. Passed out right after leaving the bus and kissed the concrete."

His eyes flash to the left side of my forehead from where I can feel a low thumping pain spreading across my head. Fuck.

"Everybody freaked out and Rosie was about to call an ambulance but I told her that I'd take care of you. Took me five minutes to ensure her that I was not going to dump you underneath the next bridge and instead take you straight to an ER."
I look around.

"Doesn't seem like one to me. Where the hell am I?" I try to sound demanding and lift my head to sit up but the sharp pain only leaves me with a wince. Pathetic.

"You're in my apartment. On my couch. And believe me it would be better for you to lay back down. You most likely have a concussion."
He lifts his hand to my shoulder and softly pushes me back down onto a big fluffy cushion. My eyes widen, waiting for further explanations.

"You are hurt and obviously sick but not sick enough to immediately receive help from a doc on a Saturday evening in an ER. Believe me, the waiting rooms in every single hospital are packed right now. I called to check and the waiting time is estimated around three hours. So I figured that it would be easier and faster to just take care of this myself."

I'm confused. So utterly confused. Why would he out of all people care whether I'm rotting in a waiting room waiting for someone to probably just patch me up and send me back home? Sounds rather like something he'd enjoy hearing about next Monday at work. In a normal situation I would probably use my braincells and reveal none of my confusion but well, that's not the case right now. So I ask.

"Why do you care. And what are you even gonna do about it? It's not like you have a hidden identity as a doctor or something."

He grins. He actually grins at my words. My confusion reaches a limit. Not only am I laying on my nemesis' couch but he also behaves like a totally normal person who doesn't make fun out of everything I say. Am I dreaming?

"You know Lucy, before I started working for the book industry I actually went to medschool. Four years. So no, I might not have a diploma but I got some years of experience and a family consisting of surgeons."
I'm shocked. I had literally no fucking idea. And he seems amused by that.

"Listen, if you want me to take you to a hospital that's fine, I'll do it immediately. But you're already here and I have enough experience and stuff here at my place. If necessary I can even stitch you up right here and now."
I swallow at the thought of a needle being pushed through my skin but quickly banish that thought from my mind. I'm too drained, too exhausted to ask more questions and to be honest I'm in pain. My whole body is aching and certain parts feel like they're about to burst into a million pieces so I just nod.

"Will you let me help you?"
His eyes travel across my face trying to find something approving of his offer but there's also something else. Something that looks hella lot like worry.

Almost automatically I say "Yes."
As if I would have a different option, I think to myself. But deep down inside of me I like the fact that Joshua is offering me his help. Because I sure as hell need it right now.

"Okay, I'm just gonna get some water and some stuff to examine you. Until then, lay calm. When I lifted you out of my car the motion of lifting your head made you nauseous and you threw up."

Oh god.

"Did I.. I mean-"
He interrupts me before I have a chance to ask. And I'm happy about it.

"No, no don't worry," he smirks "just some bushes. Not my car or me or you. It's a normal effect of a concussion so I was prepared for it to happen. Here."
He lifts a kitchen bowl from the ground and sets it next to me on the couch. It's a nice couch. Shaped in a U and big enough to fit another person next to where I'm laying.

"If you feel nauseous again, just use this and call for me. I'll be right back, I just need to get some stuff out of my room and my car."

"Okay" I whisper, not being able to excel more strength into my words.

"Hang tight, Shortcake." He brushes a strand of hair out of my face and smirks.

Then he gets up and I let the weight that is pushing onto my eyelids take over.

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I promise I still have a good amount of drama and plot twists to come... ;)