“If he can stand it, try hold this on his eye on and off for a few minutes at a time to try and reduce the swelling.”
Rocco winces as I help him place the small cool pack on his eye.
“One of the doctors will be with you in a moment, lovey,” the nurse says, before swaying her rounded hips out of the curtained area, leaving us alone.
We wait for at least twenty minutes, and still there’s no sign of anyone. Thank God Rocco has shut his mouth, because he was seriously doing my head in. He keeps looking at me strangely, so I keep scowling back.
“So here we are,” he pipes in with.
“Yeah, here we are.” I probably should say I’m sorry. If I did this to anyone else, I would have apologised profusely by now.
“I’m real sorry about this,” I say quietly. There, I said it. Now, let’s move on.
“Are you?” he asks, and folds his arms across his chest.
My eyebrows pull together, and I curse myself for thinking I could apologise and that he would react like a normal person. “Of course I am.”
“Okay, just checking.” He nods and smirks like an arse. I won’t react. He’s just baiting me.
I rub the sides of my temples and take in a deep breath, shaking as it fills my lungs. I look around, and there’s not a single soul at the nurses’ station. Where the hell is everyone?
“Seriously? They’re lucky you’re not bleeding to death,” I mutter. I’m lucky he’s not. How much blood do you need to lose before they have to do a blood transfusion?
“Chillax, Suds. I’m good. I’m sure I just need a couple of stitches and then we can piss off out of here.”
“You’re relaxed about needles? How can you be?” I hate that stuff. I’m the kind of girl that always has to look away when shit like this happens in movies. Needles. Blood. Gore. Not my cup of tea.
“Do you see my ink? Clearly I don’t have a problem with them.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
He lifts up his shirt and shows me the writing on his ribs.
“You see this tatt?”
“Yeah.”
He takes my hand and runs it over his ribcage. It’s an intricate script in a foreign language. Italian?
“What does it say?” I ask as I trace over the words Fratellino and La Famiglia.
“In great detail it describes my cock. Long, good girth, powerful …”
“Very funny arsehole. What does it really say?”
He chuckles. “It’s about family. La famiglia.”
“What does fratellino mean?”
“Little brother.”
“Oh.”
“This tattoo hurt like hell. It was like the needle was grinding its way into my bones, but at the end of the day, in comparison to being stabbed in the eye with a flying dildo, it was like a tickle, really. Piece of piss.”
“You dick,” I spit out, with a roll of my eyes.
“You’ve had dick,” he teases.
I remove my hand from his side, which was still there for some reason, and scrape my hands down my face. I’m strung out, exhausted, and at the end of my wits with Rocco. Just when I think he’s getting serious, sharing something of himself, it comes back to dick.
Men.
“I think you need someone to sedate you. I’ll call a nurse.”
Before I get a chance, the pale blue curtain is whisked open.
“Mr De Luca,” a familiar husky voice chimes.
My jaw drops, and I simply stare at Rocco. I consider commando rolling to the floor and hiding under the bed. Unfortunately, I’ve missed my chance, and instead I move my hair so that it kind of covers my face.
“I’m Dr Sainsbury. Let’s take a look at you.”
Rocco cocks his eyebrow and smirks at me. It’s as if he can sense the uneasiness pouring out of me. Of course, his stare draws the good doctor’s attention. Shit a brick.
“Sophie,” Bonnie gasps. I glance up to meet the confused expression on her face. She looks between us a few times, simply by moving her eyes, and then makes a ‘huh’ noise before looking at his chart.
If you looked up the definition of awkward, this is what you’d see. A first-class description of the whole lot of awkward that’s going on here. I know Bonnie works here, but that thought didn’t enter my mind. Not even for a second. I just drove on autopilot to the nearest hospital, to save Rocco from bleeding to death and me from emptying the contents of my stomach everywhere and making a right mess.
“What’s brought you here this evening?” she asks Rocco.
“Suds here threw her big dilly at me and knocked me out.”
Insert silent, hell-awkward pause here.
“O … kay.” She reaches for her white coat pocket and takes out a pen-light, then flashes it in each of his eyes in a side to side motion. “Were you unconscious for long?”
“Nah. I’m fine. Sometimes we get a bit rough, but that’s the way we like it, hey honey?” he says.
My palm makes a slapping noise as I bring it forcefully to my forehead. I am without words. The arsehole has rendered me speechless.
Damn you, De Loser!
With the snap of latex, Bonnie secures some white gloves and takes a look at the cut.
“If I had known there were beauties like this in the ER, I would have hurt myself long before now,” Rocco says, as he tries to look down her black and white-spotted blouse.
Really? One second he’s calling me honey, as if we’re together, and the next he’s trying to hook up with her? He truly has no filter, no idea how he comes across—or does he?
“What time do you finish?” His voice turns smooth, with a hint of mischief.
Boy, does this guy have some gall. Does anything besides his dick ever come to the forefront of his mind?
“Mr De Luca, I don’t date patients … or men,” she adds. She slowly turns her expressionless face towards me and then turns her attention back to him. “Sophie can attest to that.” Her tone is curt, intending to cut me. Why did she have to throw our failed relationship out there like that, and in front of him? I don’t need Rocco coming out with uncomfortable questions about us, and what we had.
“Wow,” Rocco says, through a chuckle. He bites his lip, as if he’s trying not to burst out laughing.
“I think with three stitches, you’ll be fine,” Bonnie says, back to business. “I’ll just get a suture kit.” She stands, takes off her gloves, tosses them in the waste bin beside the bed, and then leaves.
“Why did you do that?” I whisper-growl.
“What?”
“Make out like we’re together?”
He shrugs. The cocky bastard has nothing to say for himself?
“We’re never gonna hook up,” I tell him. I need that to be clear.
“And why’s that?” he challenges.
“I don’t do dick.”
“Ah, but you have done dick, something you’ve kept to yourself.”
“Correction, then. I will never do dick again.”
“Never say never.”
Oh my God.
“Can we drop this?”
I stand up and move outside the curtain. I jump when Bonnie appears right beside me. “Have you got a minute?” she asks with a jerk of her head in the direction behind her.
I huff. “Sure.”
Thankfully she moves a few steps away, with any luck out of Rocco’s earshot.
“What are you doing with this guy? Should I be concerned?” she asks in a hoarse whisper.
“No need for you to worry,” I scoff. “I’m fine.”
“Does he have a substance abuse problem?”
What? Where is this coming from? I narrow my eyes at her. I know he has a huge tequila problem, but from what I can tell he’s not into drugs. “Why the hell would you suggest that?”
“He looks like the type. Tattoos, piercings. He doesn’t exactly look healthy. The whites of his eyes aren’t exactly white.”
“Geez, way to judge, Bon.”
“Guys like him are here in hospital all the time, one OD after another. Don’t be disillusioned.”
“Do you hear yourself? Give the guy a break. You know nothing about him.”