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| Loose Id |
A
while back I set out to write a story about an accidental meeting between two
men. What better way to have them meet than...an accident? A collision between
a runner and a novice rollerblader made a nice premise, especially if the guy
who you'd expect to cause the accident was in fact the collide. Even better if
one guy was a doctor.
Welcome
to the world of Dr. Remy Marshall and massage therapist Jamie Sullivan.
Here's
an excerpt in Jamie's point of view:
THIS
COULDN’T BE happening.
It
just didn’t get more humiliating than this. In the park, on a cloudless day,
being carried to a stranger’s car—no, to Dr. Marshall’s car—by the doctor and a
female Good Samaritan. And he still had on the damn rollerblades because the MD
suspected a fracture. Jamie had to admit, the intense throbbing in his left
ankle tended to make him agree. At least going by private car was cheaper than
an ambulance. Another group of kids, all giving him unabashed stares. Jamie closed
his eyes. Nightmare.
“Almost
there, Jamie.” Dr. Marshall spoke next to Jamie’s ear. At least he was cute.
Jamie opened his eyes.
Oh no. Cupid, thy name is cruelty. Wending toward them, body moving
sinuously in time with the music on his MP3 player, was the object of Jamie’s
worship from afar: Cute Rollerblade Guy, fiery ponytail gleaming in the sun.
Please
don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Skate right on by—
Cutie
halted next to Dr. Marshall. “Hey. Need some help?”
Jamie’s
rescue team paused, and he tried to sit up straighter. Hanging between two
people, parked on the seat formed by their forearms—dignity really wasn’t
possible. He smiled through clenched teeth.
“We
got it,” said the woman. Her tone dared the guy to challenge her capability to
haul injured men through the park.
“Big
oops, huh?” Cutie pointed at Jamie’s scraped leg and throbbing ankle. “Looks
bad.”
“Rollerblading
injury,” Dr. Marshall snapped. No mistaking the disapproval in those words.
“Did
you fall?” Cutie leaned forward, hands on knees. Tawny eyes met Jamie’s.
The
man had dreamy peepers. “N-no, more of a collision.”
“You
ran into someone?”
“Sh—sheesh,
no. Someone ran into me.”
Dr.
Marshall cleared his throat and looked away. “We’ve got to get going, get him
to the ER for X-rays.”
The
rescuers bounced Jamie up, resettling him in the two-person carry, and resumed
their shuffling progress toward the parking lot.
Cutie
tagged along, rolling next to the rescue team. “Hope you’ll be okay.”
Jamie
tried, but an authentic grin wasn’t possible. “Sure.”
Flashing
another stunning smile, Cutie executed a one-eighty and bladed off. Jamie
attempted to enjoy the view of Cutie’s spandex-clad ass, but pain got in the
way. He closed his eyes. Well, now he’d met Cute Rollerblade Guy. Only had to
sacrifice an ankle to do it.
Mission
accomplished.
~*~
