Page 4

Chapter 4

Jahmar

D espite running late, I still manage to slap on a bright smile as I pass Femi at reception. Last night’s shenanigans only left me a few hours of sleep, and I think I’d lose my head if it wasn’t screwed on.

Staring at the lift keypad, I swear the floors tick by slower than usual. As I burst out of the sliding doors, my steps stutter. I must be seeing things because Anders is leaving my apartment.

“Anders.” My voice reverberates down the long corridor.

He freezes, keeping his back to me while clutching the door handle.

I stomp towards him as he slowly swivels around, eyes like flying saucers.

“What were you doing?” I ask, unable to mask the suspicion in my tone.

I’m usually sweetness and light with my little lion, but I’m already in a rush, and his ashy face has my spidey senses twitching.

“I erm, f-fire,” he stammers. The apples of his cheeks beam with a pink blush.

“What? There was a fire in my apartment?”

Anders frantically shakes his head, scrambling for words. The clunky set of keys he’s holding crashes to the floor.

“No. Fire alarm, I mean.” He crouches to grab the keys, staying down longer than necessary like he can’t get his body to work. His usual air of indifference has slipped. Sucking in a shaky breath, he continues. “Your alarm was going off, it must’ve been faulty or something. I dunno. I fixed it; it’s good now.”

The tension in my shoulders melts, and I flash him my signature smile. I did come in a bit hot; no wonder he’s a mumbling mess.

“Ok, no worries, sweetheart. Thanks for sorting it out.” I wink at him out of habit. It usually gets a nice reaction out of him.

Anders rolls his eyes while huffing at his new pet name. There’s the little shit I know and love.

“You don’t like it when I call you that?” I innocently ask.

“You know I don’t, yet you persist.” A flicker of amusement dances in his ocean eyes.

“I have another nickname for you if that one isn’t cutting it?”

“Oh, bloody hell. What is it?”

He acts as if this conversation is a massive inconvenience, but I spot that one tiny dimple he’s trying to hide. It only comes out to play when I’m charming his socks off.

“Little lion.”

He audibly growls like a puppy tugging on a chew toy, eliciting a hearty chuckle from me.

“Is it because of the highlights? I knew I shouldn’t have got them,” he whines, crossing his arms and pouting that biteable bottom lip. What he doesn’t realise is how fucking endearing I find his petulance.

“That might have something to do with it, and you’re always growling at me. I can stick to sweetheart if you want, though. Little lion sounded much better in my head.”

“In your head?” Anders’ brows scrutinise me like he’s caught me out somehow. Like I care if he knows I think about him. It’s about time I upped the ante with my flirting if we’re ever going to get anywhere. I raise an eyebrow, challenging him to ask more.

“You think about me?” he eventually asks, blinking more times than necessary. Oh, Christ, I think I broke him.

“Hard not to,” I answer, honestly, for once.

I’m not sure what it is about this man. Maybe it’s his unpredictable temperament, lean body, or meaningful eyes that are always observing his surroundings. I have no fucking clue, but I clocked him from the very first day I moved into Emeralds. We’re like a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode and shred each other into tiny pieces.

Anders must like my reply because his lip curls, and that precious dimple makes itself known. My hand moves of its own accord. Sticking out my finger, I poke at it like a man possessed. His face falters, hiding that dimple that should belong to me.

“What the hell are you doing?” His eyes pop, and his chest heaves.

Oops, I should know better than to touch without asking. He has me all kinds of messed up. I drop my hand and create some space.

Sensing my uncertainty, he reaches for my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze before quickly releasing it. That’s the first time he’s ever initiated contact, and my fingers feel like a live wire. I kind of want to shove them in my mouth so I can at least say some part of my tongue has touched him.

“Maybe give me some warning the next time you decide to poke my face.”

He chuckles, although it’s forced. I can tell I make him nervous. It’s not my intention, but knowing I affect him in such a way mildly turns me on.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist. It’s not often you give that dimple to me. I got a little carried away.”

“Give it to you?”

Fuck, the dimple is back; I’m going to have to name it at some point.

“Yep, you’re usually all grumbly and ready to bite my head off like an angry cub, but occasionally, I pull a smile out of you, and that dimple pops so prettily.”

“I’m not,” he noticeably grumbles, bypassing the compliment. “Ok, maybe I am a little short with you. You always catch me off guard. I feel like I have to mentally prepare myself before you swan through reception and upend my day.”

The thrill of knowing I send his head spinning just like he does mine makes me feel even braver. Mission Swoon Anders is full steam ahead.

“It sounds like you have a crush on me,” I tease.

“You would think that.” He rolls his eyes so hard his irises almost disappear.

The crackle of Anders’ walkie-talkie makes us both flinch.

“Andeeers, mi need yuh,” Femi’s voice booms through the device.

Shit, my ID, this man is a fucking distraction, a welcome one, but still.

He responds to Femi in his usually unimpressed tone. I slip past him, grab my badge from the side table at the entrance and lock up. Anders makes his way towards the lift. I pick up the pace, wanting to catch the lift with him. Any excuse to be near him, I’ll take. When I reach it, he’s holding the door with a coy smile. He waited—cute.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” I joke, flashing my brows.

Anders huffs in response. This time, it’s not an annoyed huff; it’s more like ‘I give up and accept your ridiculous ways’.

We climb down a few floors in what I’m now calling ‘sexual silence’. The tension is so thick you couldn’t cut it with a knife; you’d need an axe.

He’s doing his best not to look at me from the corner of his eye, but I sense him. I always sense him. How he looks at me sometimes feels like sticky honey pouring over my skin. The sensation is so present you can’t not think about it.

I clip my badge onto my shirt, and he rapidly turns to face me.

“Oh, you forgot your badge?”

“Yep, I had to pop back and grab it, or I’d get an earful at the hospital for turning up without ID, although now I’ll get an earful for being late.” I humorlessly scoff.

“Ah, ok, that makes sense.”

“Hmm, you didn’t expect me to come back, did you? Were you hoping to have a little rummage through my knicker drawer?” I playfully nudge him with my shoulder, but his whole body stiffens, and his eyes shoot to the keypad like he’s praying for the floors to pass ten at a time.

“No,” he snaps, vein-popping at the side of his neck as blood pulses through it. I’d love to know what his blood pressure is right now.

He crosses his arms, releasing an agitated sigh. Well, that was a weird response to a flirty joke. Why is he so defensive?

“I’m only pissing around,” I say gently, trying to placate him.

All I hear are crickets. Ouch.

Floor three, two, one, ground.

“Yeah, that’s the problem with you, you’re always taking the piss. Let’s keep it professional from now on, alright?”

Before I can respond, he flies out of the lift, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

He’s not wrong. I do like to piss around, all smiles and banter, disguising what’s really eating at my insides. If you pretend for long enough, you can convince almost everyone you’re ok and happy. Convince them that one single event didn’t blacken your soul. If he wants to think I’m an arrogant jokester, so be it; better than him knowing what lurks beneath the surface of this fucked up facade.

As I drag my arse through the night shift, I can’t help feeling that Anders was up to something. He’s always slightly sheepish around me, but his overreaction to my teasing earlier had alarm bells ringing. I’m itching to get back to my apartment to see if everything is as it should be.

Thankfully, this morning, I managed to secure a storage unit on the outskirts of Leeds to store the trunk and leftover medical supplies. I paid with cash and wore a mask—thank you, COVID, for making it socially acceptable to hide my face while I commit heinous crimes.

I ensured the trunk and surgical instruments were scrubbed to death and locked up; even if the guy who owns the unit decides to be a nosey bastard, he’ll be out of luck.

I feel like I could collapse from exhaustion, but I need to scout out a new location after work. I have four days until my next job, which should be enough time to find somewhere discreet.

“You know you’ve been looking at that chart for ten minutes. Need some help?” Leo, the head nurse, asks.

Since I started doing locum shifts, I’ve tried to keep my friendships to a minimum, but this doe-eyed guy wants to wiggle his way into my life.

“I’m all good,” I reply, plastering on a smile.

“You doing much this weekend?”

Great, here comes the small talk—something I’ve mastered; acting engaged without giving too much information about myself. Leo, on the other hand, is an open book. He’ll tell you what he had for breakfast three days ago if you’re willing to listen. He’s harmless, though, and radiates pure energy. I used to be like him, carefree and a little naive.

“Not a lot. I’ll be working here again tomorrow, and then I’ll probably hit the gym and catch up on sleep.”

“If you’re looking for a workout buddy, it’s an open weekend at my gym just around the corner; we could hit it together.” He beams, nudging my shoulder with his fist like we’re bros.

I’m not sure if he’s ever stepped foot in a gym. He’s about six-foot with long limbs, no muscle, and hardly any body fat. His deep brown eyes, which have dark rings, are a strong contrast against his almost translucent skin, plead with me to say yes.

Damn, I’m probably going to regret this.

“Ok, sure.”

“Wh-what?” Leo stutters, thoroughly mystified by my response.

“Sounds good. We can be gym buddies.” I force another smile, and he laps it up.

“Oh, ok, cool, amazing.”

Jesus Christ, I think I just made his Christmas and New Year.

“Anyways, I better get on,” I say, snatching the chart off the reception desk and retreating.

Shit, I really wish he wasn’t such a genuine guy because I’ll inevitably feel guilty for stealing his key card later.