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“All I’m saying is, you probably should have told herwhyshe shouldn’t drink so much,” Bear said. “But then again…”

They both looked down at Alex who, unsuccessful in her butterfly-catching attempt and bored of their conversation, was wiggling her eyebrows up and down over and over again, trying to raise one without the other. Why was it so difficult?

“… there’s nothing like first-hand experience,” Bear finished.

Six

Sometime later, Alex opened hereyes to a bright blue-coloured ceiling. She was lying on a bed under a crisp white sheet in the middle of a large, well-lit room.

“Hello?” she called out, sitting up.

“Ahh. You’re awake. Excellent.”

A man was walking towards her, clipboard in hand. He looked to be in his mid-forties, and he had a kind face with intelligent green eyes. There was a stethoscope draped around his neck, and his white lab coat had a pocket embroidered with the nameDr. Fletcher Montgomery.

“How are you feeling, Alex?” he asked, picking up her wrist to check her pulse.

“Okay,” she replied uncertainly. Her memories were hazy; she had no idea where she was, or how she’d arrived in the blue-ceilinged room. Itlookedlike she was in some kind of hospital—which only served to heighten her anxiety, since she’d always had an irrational fear of doctors.

He nodded and pulled out a silver instrument. “Follow the light, please.”

She blinked when he aimed the beam at her eyes and did as he asked.

“Your vitals are looking much better. I think you’ll be fine to go now.” He scribbled something onto the clipboard and started to walk away.

“Uh—Doctor Montgomery?” she called out, hoping the name was right.

He paused and turned back to her, his expression amused. “So formal, Alex? I’m hurt.”

She looked at him strangely. What was he talking about?

“After all,” he continued, “it was only an hour ago that you told me I was the nicest doctor you’d ever met and if I didn’t agree to marry you, then you had no reason to continue living.”

Um… What?

He grinned at her. “I’m flattered. Truly. But it would be completely unprofessional of me to accept your proposal. I hope you don’t take it personally? I know how difficult it must be, especially considering your thoughtful—and creative—love song.”

Alex felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She’d sung to him? How humiliating.

The doctor chuckled and sat down at the end of the bed. “If you think what you said to me was bad, just wait until you catch up with your friends again.”

Alex groaned, not sure she even wanted to know.

“What happened to me?” she asked. The last thing she could remember was eating lunch in the food court.

“Nothing too serious,” he answered. “Just a slight overdose of dillyberry juice. According to your friends, you had a few too many glasses, not knowing about the side-effects.”

“Side-effects?”

“Similar to those of someone under the influence of alcohol or narcotics,” he explained. “You were essentially on a sugar-high. Dillyberries contain large doses of glucosamine, with a glass of juice holding roughly the equivalent of a glass of sugar.”

Alex felt like slapping herself. Why hadn’t she listened to Jordan’s warning? “How did I end up in here?”

“You don’t remember?”

“I can’t rememberanything!”

“No need to shout,” he said with a calming gesture. “I’m not deaf.”