“But ‘just friends’ don't look at each other like that.”

'~~~~|~~~~'

"Hey, Atticus, can you uh— do me a favor?" I take some of the pile of paperwork in his hand and he stands straighter at the lighter load.

"Anything for you, Mrs. Sievers," Atticus's lips curved in a smile as he looked at me.

I waited until he placed the files on the desk and turned to face me. I handed him a card, "Could you figure out if this person is um—" My throat dried up, "Alive? And if so, where he lives?"

He takes it and reads the name, "Mm," He hums. "Of course, not a problem," He smiles.

I return it, "Thanks, Atticus."

Just as I turn around to leave, I run into Titus, and his face contorts into confusion, "What are you doing here?"

I look back at Atticus, and before I can blubber, he speaks up after taking a file from the desk, "Mrs. Sievers just dropped off this file you left at home. Good thing you did because you need it for your next meeting."

Titus looked skeptical as he stared at the both of us but didn't question it, and instead, as people walked by, he kissed my cheek and rubbed my forearm.

As he brought me closer to his body, he whispered in my ear, "Now you get your ass back home."

I took a step back and looked into his eyes defiantly, just as Lillian, daughter of Beatrice who I had seen at the last charity event I went to and who had a thing for Titus.

"Oh, hey, Demiah," She says sweetly as she stands next to Titus, "Anyway, here you go Titus," She hands him a flash drive that he takes with a sly, flirtatious smile on his face.

I grip onto my purse, "I'll be leaving now," I say as I turn and wave at Titus.

I leave without another word as I step onto the elevator. As I face them once again, I see Lillian whisper in Titus' ear before he follows after her as she leaves, her slender body styling down the hallway in poise.

That was the last thing I saw as the elevator closed before me.

'~~~~|~~~~'

I walked slowly into the room, looking at the elderly people around me, wheelchairs being pushed around by orderlies.

As I came to stand at room 106, I took a deep breath before knocking three times, hearing a gruff, unhappy voice grant me entrance into the room.

As I took slow steps into the room, my eyes land upon an elderly man with a pair of spectacles placed low on his nose in a wheelchair with a newspaper in his hand.

Upon my arrival, he looked up and stared for a while, jaw slightly lowered. He slowly removed the glasses from his face, "Well I'll be damned."

He threw the newspaper to the side, chewing on his gum in the process. With a groggy voice, he continued, "If it isn't Demiah Sallows. Are should I say, Demiah Sievers?"

I hold my head up higher as I walk further into the room.

"What's it been, about 10 years?" He said humourlessly. He kept quiet after that, waiting for me to speak, "Nothing to say, hm?" He reached back for his glasses and placed them over his eyes once again, looking away from my presence uninterestedly.

"Coming in here with your designer clothes, head up high like a peacock," He chided. "Not at all like the girl who shattered my boy's heart and walked right over here."

I clutched my bag tighter, my stance unmoving. He stared at me for a long moment, as if he was studying me, "Why after all these years have you come here, hm?" It was more as if he was speaking to himself, judging from the way he rubbed his finger against his nose.

When I don't reply again, and after staring at me for quite a while, am an expression overcomes his features, one of recognition, or more so, realization.

"Both of you met again," It wasn't a question. From how my neutral reaction faltered, he knew he was right, "But you're here for more than that, aren't you? You want me to yell at you, bring you down, call you every name in the book, and give you every reason to run off again," A deep, hoarse chuckle follows afterward.

"Well I have and news for you, Sallow, the next time you leave my boy again, it'll be on your terms again, don't come here looking for me to give you any excuse for you to do what you're gonna do," He retrieved the newspaper from his side again and straightened it out harshly, letting me know that he had said all that needed to be said.

As he ignores my presence, I walk up to him and slowly bend down to place a kiss on his cheek, speaking for the first time, "It was nice to see you too, Papa."

He answered with a mere gruff as I left the room.

'~~~~|~~~~'

As I entered the hospital, my nerves spiked and my palms sweating, I was beyond scared. I didn't know what my life would be liked if I had breast cancer. My mother seemed to be getting along well, but I knew most of it was just a show.

I suppose that I didn't have much to live for anyway.

I reached the front desk and told the nurse of my name. She perked up and escorted me herself toward where I'd be having my test. After explaining to me the procedure, she left me alone in the room with different attire to change into.

I looked at the machine and scowled, as if it were the reason for all of my problems. Craning my head backwards and staring directly at the ceiling, I take two deep breaths, trying to calm my erratic breathing. 

Just as I was looking and observing the large room, the door opens causing me to crane my head in the direction. I snap my head forward, my eyes squeezing tightly in annoyance and disbelief. Just when I got my heartbeat to go normal again, Enrique must enter the room?

"It's nice to see you again, Mrs. Sievers," Enrique speaks as he pulls a chair with wheels from the table and situates it in front of me, taking a seat in the process. Although his words were professional, his voice held amusement and had a teasing nature, a complete contrast to my first visit.

"Please," I stressed. "Call me, Demiah," I no longer felt extremely nervous or that I was walking on eggshells as I spoke to Enrique. Since the last time I saw him when he was fixing my car, it was clear that he held no hostile feelings against me, though he seemed to have an agenda since he seemed to love watching me squirm.

"With pleasure," He mumbled. "So," He perked up. "I took it Nurse Natalie explained everything to you?" He inquires. 

I clutched the gown that I was now wearing, in which the nurse gave me, close to my body unconsciously as I answered, "Yeah, she did."

He hums as he places the chart in his hand on the table, coming back over to me and pressing the familiar stethoscope against my chest. He was quiet for a while but even with my eyes closed and relaxed, I could feel him staring at me momentarily.

"Have you considered my offer?" He suddenly asked. My eyes opened and as expected, he was staring directly at me. He finally removed the stethoscope from my chest and wrapped it around his neck again. 

He walked away from me after looking at his expensive watch momentarily before retrieving the chart from the desk, "You were serious? And we're really going to talk about this here? And now?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" He countered. "You made it your mission not to call when I told you to, so this was the only time that you'd be forced to be in my presence, as it obviously seems revolting to you."

After he says this, he takes his seat directly in front of me again, his posture leaning toward my form intently, "You told me to call when I'm free. You're the surgeon. Shouldn't you call me when you're free?" I folded my arms across my chest since he was finished with his checkup.

"Touché," He smiles charmingly. 

"And I don't exactly find your presence revolting, I just don't appreciate your boldness," I breathed defiantly. As I say this, he outstretches a hand to help me down from the high, leathered examination cushion, in which I take.

"Is that so?" He teases. "I don't think I'm bold, I just say what's on my mind most of the time," He countered. "That doesn't make me bold," He laughs.

As we drew closer to the screening machine, Enrique politely asked me to pull down the gown a bit, until my less than attractive breasts were exposed. I responded to him quickly in an attempt to stop his mind from thinking about how long and unattractively chaste my breast had become.

"It does too make you bold," In order to make me feel comfortable, I assume, he asked me to take a step closer until both of my breasts were placed between two firm and cold surfaces.

"Does not," He joked, his white teeth happily showing. As slight pressure is applied, he asked, "Have you been seeing anymore discharge or feeling anymore pain?"

"No, and no, that's good, right? Once again, it really does make you bold, but if that helps you to sleep at night, then say what you must," I found myself looking in his direction next to me, and a smile forming on my lips in a teasing manner.

He replied nonchalantly as he wrote on the chart in his hand distractedly, "Trust me, you don't want to know what helps me to sleep at night," He whistles as he shakes his head.

I snap my head back in front of me, for some reason feeling my cheeks burn at his response. He clears his throat at my discomfort, "And yes, about no discharge and pain, that's excellent news."

We were quiet for the rest of the procedure, which lasted about 20 minutes in total.

After the test was completed, Enrique informed me that I could redress behind the blinds, which I did and emerged less than 10 minutes later.

"So..." I murmured as I grabbed my bag, "Is that all?"

He turned around to face me, "Uh, yeah, yeah, you should be getting a call in about two weeks about the results," He explained.

I began to sweat, "Two weeks?" I sighed unhappily. I laughed nervously, "I wasn't expecting the wait to be that long."

Enrique sensing my doubt, came closer to me and stroked my forearm, "I'm sure you have nothing to worry about. From observation, it doesn't seem like anything serious," I wasn't convinced at his words as I lowered my head in worry. He looked around the room momentarily, "Tell you what, I'll try to get a rush on the results, hm?"

I looked up and smiled tightly at him, "Thank you, Enrique."

He didn't return the smile, instead his eyes moved all over my face and finally settled on my eyes. At our proximity, I opened my mouth to speak, but continued to close it after being unsure about what to say.

The gentle stroke of his hand against my arm slowed until it stopped and I found his eyes trained on my lips. I tried to look anywhere but his, this being a difficult feat, especially from how close we were.

As I felt him leaning closer to me, his eyes relaxing and soon dropping to a close, I slowly pulled back, "I..." I swallowed, "I guess I should be going now, thank you again." I gathered my bag and walked around him, leaving him standing there.

I turned around on my journey to the door, and still saw him standing in the spot I'd left him, his back facing me, but this time, with his head drooped and a tired hand rubbing over his face.

I held onto the doorframe, "I'll call you, and we can make plans on that dinner," I managed a smile. "Nothing wrong with old friends meeting up, right?"

He slowly turned around, that familiar drop of hair in front of his eye. Looking at me for a long moment from my position against the frame of the door, he smiled back and murmured an unsure, "Right."

'~~~~|~~~~

Word Count: 2109