🌻Hey, gorgeous! You can read this episode and much more of DOCTOR-PATIENT CONFIDENTIALITY and other sizzling web series from Emended Hearts at www.EmendedHearts.com or click the external link at the bottom of the page.🌻
💗💗💗
The mingled, inharmonious sounds of over-enthusiastic claps, whistles, and general cheers burst throughout the reserved hall, signaling the end of the latest "dance to it" song by the sketchy looking band on stage. I can't stop myself from rolling my eyes for the fifth time since we walked through the doors.
Cheap, festive decor drape the walls and stage, and brown and orange tapestry lace the long table behind me. The floor is covered with a mix of red, orange, and brown leaves, and there are some sort of triangular hay structures—whose purpose completely eludes me—that are randomly set up throughout the area. Carved pumpkins of varying sizes are dispersed all over, some with lit candles inside them, adding a deeper, warmer glow to the sharp indoor lighting. Unfortunately, they do absolutely nothing to help remedy the fact that I'm pretty much freezing my ass off in here. It's less than ten degrees outside and apparently the damn heater is broken.
Just fucking perfect.
Drake and I have only been here twenty minutes and I already want to disappear into thin air. Hell, I want to gouge my rolling eyes out and intentionally destroy my eardrums if it would mean not having to see and hear this painful hot mess called a Thanksgiving dance play out in front of me. That's probably the only thing I'd be thankful for at this point.
So much for this year being 'the best one yet'.
They've even dubbed it "The University's Holiday Formal" this time around to give it more legitimacy.
Yeah, right. More like "Holiday Horror: The Winter Formal where human gratitude comes to die every year".
I stay on the sidelines, my feet firmly planted in a corner as far away from the dancefloor as humanly possible while I continue to look around the large open room. My eyes search for some sort of solace, some saving grace that can justify why I came to this shit fest in the first place. I don't know what it is about these formals. They just never sit well with me. But I agreed to come so I'm just going to have to suck it up and pretend to have a good time for Drake's sake. The last thing I want is to make him feel bad for being thoughtful and bringing me out to have some fun.
Speaking of the devil—er, angel—himself, he walks up to me with two red cups and hands one to me.
"They just ran out of punch so I got us some eggnog," he says.
My expression turns incredulous as I take the plastic cup from him.
"Eggnog? Isn't it a little early for that?"
He shrugs playfully in that laidback, carefree way he always does. "Never hurts to get an early start when alcohol's involved," he jokes.
I just smile and shake my head. "Thank you," I say, holding up my cup to my lips.
"Wait, hold on," he says, putting out his hand in a halting gesture before I can take a sip. "You're not going to drink without 'clinking' first, are you?"
"Drake, these cups are plastic. They don't have the ability to 'clink'," I tease with a playful grin, raising my eyebrow for sarcastic effect.
He cocks his head to the side, as if he's trying to take a better look at me. His smile parts his lips, showing off his great teeth. "Didn't realize you were such a smartass, Roni," he says, his eyes turning slightly mischievous, their whiskey hue glinting in a playful way. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was being flirty. But, thankfully, I do know better.
YOU ARE READING
Doctor-Patient Confidentiality: New Adult Enemies-to-Lovers Romance
Romance"That's it, baby," he continues, his tone almost soothing, despite the filth spilling from his lips. "Take my cock. Take all of it." Baby. My belly flutters, my heart soaring like a fool even though I know it's a runaway utterance. A thoughtless spi...
