Bird-Dogging: an Academy Fan Fiction [on hold indefinitely]

Chapter Nineteen

          Well, he's hot. I knew it. I knew he'd be hot. Curse you, fate, or destiny, or possibly karma!

          How did I know this guy? He seemed so familiar, yet I couldn't seem to place him. I was hoping he wasn't someone I should know. I didn't have a name or even a frame of reference. Maybe he was in one of my classes? Or maybe he was last year? Did he come into the diner? Oh gosh, had I turned him down before? No, that's not it. I think I would remember someone who looked like that asking me out.

          Brownish red hair, not quite auburn, and serious blue eyes that seemed to be slightly confused—or surprised. He had a light smile on his mouth. His skin was tanned nicely, and I wondered how he managed that being a redhead. He was tall. And built like a tank. A gray tee shirt was stretched tight over his muscular upper body, and I was worried the stitching would give out any second. Worried for me, that is. I was sure to embarrass myself if this guy's shirt was suddenly ripped off his body. I could see the definition in the muscles of his arms which were held in front of his body while he held his right hand in his left. When I saw a drop of blood fall from his hands, I remembered what I was supposed to be doing.

          I came around the desk with the first aid kit. "Sorry."

          "It's no big deal." He shrugged. No way was this not a big deal. If you're dripping blood, it's a big deal. Tough guy.

          I turned to the kit and pulled out a pair of gloves. I used some disinfectant on my hands before pulling the gloves on. I motioned for him to come closer as I pulled out what I thought I might need to fix whatever was wrong. Or at least patch it up until he could have a doctor check it out. I felt, rather than saw, him sidle up next to me.

         "Let me see," I said, turning to him. He looked down at me, watching for my reaction as he released his hand to show me the damage. A long gash split the skin on the back of his right hand. Definitely deep enough for stitches. I swallowed hard before nodding. I've dealt with similar patching myself up. "Right. Ok. Right."

          "Don't be such a girl." He laughed as he reached past me for the peroxide. I smacked his hand, which was covered in his blood, away and scowled.

        "I am a girl."

          He rolled his eyes as he said, "You know what I mean." He had a playful smirk on his lips, and I could tell he was teasing me.

          I grabbed the peroxide and some paper towels. I laid the paper towels out on the countertop and motioned for him to put his hand over it. Once he was there, I gave him an innocent look as I began to slowly pour peroxide over his hand, washing away the blood and cleaning the wound. I had expected him to react to the sting, but he didn't flinch. He did lift an eyebrow at me though. He's on to me, I thought.

          "So, does everyone who comes in here get the welcome I got?" he asked cheekily.

          I blushed. His teasing made me feel bold however. "No, we usually bend over backwards for our clients."

          He barked out a laugh, and I joined him with my own chuckle.

          "I'm Nathan." He looked like a Nathan. Or well, from now on I couldn't imagine ever meeting a Nathan and not holding them to the gold standard of manliness that was before me now. I had finished cleaning the wound, and he'd been right. It really wasn't as bad as it had looked. He'd need stitches, but probably only three or four.

          "Sang," I introduced myself. I applied some antibiotic ointment then turned to see if there were any butterfly thingies I could use to close the wound.