Page 7

CHAPTER 7

Ben

I leave the university campus with a swirl of emotions clouding my thoughts. Max… there’s something about him that tugs at me, a mix of intrigue and a strange familiarity that I can’t quite place. Just like the night of the accident, this feeling just won’t go away. Doing my best to shrug it off, I slide behind the wheel of my car. The image of his smile lingers in my mind, sparking a warmth that contrasts sharply with the clinical detachment I usually maintain, even at the detriment of most of my relationships.

I start the car and close my eyes, a Whitney Houston song from the early 1990’s is playing. Closing my eyes, I listen and smile at her perfect pitch, beautifully held notes that suck me into the feelings of love. Overcome by the feeling that there’s something more between Max and I, goosebumps spread across my arms making me smile. No way was this simply a fledgling attraction, physical and nothing else.

Again, Max’s smile pops into my mind and I think about how his biceps bulged as he pulled that girl to safety. There’s now an uncomfortable tightness in the crotch of my pants. Reaching between my legs, I adjust my raging boner and shift in the seat until I’m comfortable once again.

I’m sure he feels for me the same as I do for him; the electricity in the air whenever we’re together can't just be my imagination. Yet, there’s this nagging sensation at the back of my mind, a piece of the puzzle that’s missing, something important about him that I should remember, but can’t. Fuck this is driving me crazy. Is it a red flag I should be aware of?

With a sigh, I pull away from the parking area and onto the chaotic streets of the city. Now, driving away from the campus, I decide on a detour to the mall. Maybe getting him a small gift for our next meet-up will help me clarify my feelings, make sense of this undefined connection. Would that be weird?

Nah, I can always simply say I was thinking about him when I came across it. The mall comes up quickly on the left, and I pull into the congested parking lot. As I find an empty space and park, my mind drifts back to one of my patients I worked on last evening. She had a strange scar on her abdomen, looked very well-healed, but it also appeared like it was carved into her. I get out of the car and shut the door, locking it with my keyfob.

A honk behind me makes me jump. I turn and see an older gentleman in his white Mercedes mere inches from my back. He’s waving and agitated. Looking down, I realize I’d walked right in front of him, in the middle of the lane. Damn, I’m distracted. I offer him a pained expression and mouth, ‘ sorry ’, before moving over to the right so he can pass.

I enter the mall, the hum of busy shoppers a stark contrast to the solitude of my car. I try to focus on the task at hand, but my senses are inexplicably heightened. I keep looking over my shoulder, a prickling sensation on the back of my neck making me feel like I’m being watched. I scan the crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of anyone who might be following me, but there’s nothing concrete—just fleeting shadows and faces that blend into the sea of people.

I wander through several stores, picking up various items only to put them back. Nothing seems right. What do you buy for someone who has just entered your life? I barely know the guy, after all. A book? A piece of art? Each option feels too personal for this undefined stage of our acquaintance.

I place the latest Maegan Beaumont thriller back onto the shelf, making a mental note to buy a copy for myself once I finish her other book. Then, that feeling of being watched grows stronger as I move deeper into the mall. I stop, close my eyes, and take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. When I open them, I catch a reflection in a store window—a figure lurking a few shops back. I focus, trying to make out details, but when I turn, they’re gone. My heart starts to race, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

I decide to leave the mall, the gift forgotten. Maybe next time. As I make my way to the exit, I check my reflection in the glass doors, scanning the background for the mysterious follower. Nothing. Still, I can’t shake off the unease that clings to me like a second skin.

Outside, the warm air hits me, and I walk briskly towards my car, my head turning at every sound. The simple act of clicking the unlock button on my key fob feels like a herculean task as my hands tremble slightly. I get in quickly, lock the doors, and sit back, taking deep breaths to calm down. Never in my life have I felt like this. I’ve never been followed or hunted down… that I know of.

Why now? What the fuck is going on?

I start the engine and pull out of the parking space, glancing in the rearview mirror. For a moment, I think I see someone standing near where my car was parked, watching. I blink, and they’re gone. Was it just my imagination? The stress of the past couple of days? Or is there really someone out there? Following me. I shiver and stomp on the gas.

As I drive away, my thoughts turn back to Max. The emotional turmoil of the day makes the memory of our brief interaction at the university seem like a distant dream. The warmth of his smile, the sound of his laughter, they feel like anchors in the strange sea of fear and confusion I find myself adrift in.

But that nagging feeling about him doesn’t go away. Why does he seem so familiar, not just from our recent encounters but from somewhere deep in my past? It’s frustrating and intriguing in equal measure. As a surgeon, I’ve seen countless faces on the operating table, lives hanging in a delicate balance. Could Max have been one of them? The thought is both absurd and off-putting. What would be the chances?

Whatever connection lies between us, I’m not ready to uncover it just yet. Maybe it’s fear of discovering something that could change everything. Or maybe it’s the hope that whatever it is, it’s a bridge to something profound and meaningful between us. I push the thought aside as I focus on the road ahead.

As I park my car in my garage, the safety of the enclosed space finally allows my heart rate to settle. I lean back in the seat, letting out a long breath. Today has left me with more questions than answers, both about my feelings for Max and the eerie sensation of being followed.

But one thing is clear: I need to see Max again. There’s something between us that’s worth exploring, regardless of the shadows that might lurk behind the obvious attraction. Maybe next time, I’ll find the courage to ask him about his past, and maybe then, I’ll remember why he seems so familiar. Until then, I’ll need to work on my relaxation techniques. Whatever is bothering me seems to have made me a bit paranoid.

I laugh at myself as I get out of the car and step into my house, my sanctuary. No one has ever accused me of being dramatic, but thankfully no one is around at the moment to see me acting this way. That being said, it was wine time.