[MJ Fanfiction] Collide

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - THE COME BACK

"What? Who?" I asked, playing dumb.

"Duh? Jackson!" he hissed, so that no one could hear. "You have a massive crush on him, it's so obvious!" he laughed, and I told him to shut up. I rolled my eyes, and walked away. I didn't even try to tell him he was wrong, because I just found he was being childish. "Come on, Brit, wait!" he called after me, and grabbed my arm, which stopped my walking. "I was just messing with you."

"You can be a real pain in the ass at times, you know that, right?"

"I know, but that's how people like me," he smirked, and I rolled my eyes again, this time with a faint smile on my lips. "How does a cup of coffee sound before you start consults?"

"Are you planning on being an ass?" I asked with an eyebrow raised, which made him laugh.

"I won't be an ass, I promise," he smiled again, and I gave in.

"Meet me at the cafeteria in five," I told him before disappearing in the locker room. As usual, I changed my clothes for my working clothes and my smock on top of them and put my stethoscope around my neck once I was done.

I exhaled loudly as nervousness kept on invading me. Whenever I had a few minutes for myself, the only thing that would come to my mind was Michael. I couldn't wait to meet him again, but I was afraid of how it would happen. Was this supposed to be the day everything started between the two of us? I couldn't answer that question, but I surely felt it in my guts.

"You're fine, Hale. You wanted this," I encouraged myself in a barely audible whisper, and closed my locker with yet another sigh. I shook my head from side to side, and finally I left the locker rooms, passing some nurses that worked with me on my way out.

I took a look at my watch, and saw that I had ten minutes left before starting my tour. I joined Carl in the cafeteria which was half empty, and spotted him on the table by the window. When I noticed he took my coffee along with his, I smiled at his nice gesture, and finally sat down in front of him.

"Rough night?" he asked, and I looked from my cup of coffee to his eyes. "You seem tired."

"I didn't sleep quite much, but I'm alright," I reassured him, putting my cup back on the table. "And how are you? It's like you're always here these days."

"I have a lot of work," he simply shrugged, and I squinted my eyes at him. "What?"

"I know you're lying, Meyers. What's the matter?"

"Nothing, I—," he stopped, and sighed heavily, brushing his hands over his face. "I just feel more comfortable here."

When I saw the distress in his eyes, something let me know that he was going through a hard time, and as his friend, I wasn't going to ignore it. "Why?" I asked, and he shook his head. I took his hand in mine on top of the table, and he looked at me with those sad eyes of his, "You can talk to me."