Free Pulse by Liv Hayes

screen illuminated, and sifted through my
contacts list until I reached Dr. Alex Greene's name.
    On the
message screen, I hesitated, my fingers shaking as I swiped clumsily across the
screen:

 
    Me :   I need you to walk me through what
happened the other day.

 
    I hit
send. My heart started running – God, he'd said medical inquiries only .
What if he was with someone? What if he meant it? Then again, if he was so
willing to fuck me right there in his office, how could I believe his line of
thought? That I would never reach out to him.
    My mind
was spinning. I felt ill. And I just wanted an answer.
    The
screen lit up again. The clock read 5:02am. Like a stroke of magic, he replied.

 
    Dr.
Greene: It was a terrible choice of locale. I know it was. But I hope
you don't think of me as some predator that feeds on unsuspecting patients.

 
    I picked
through each word before sending off a reply.

 
    Me:   I'm not sure what to think. I'm not
upset. I'm just confused. You're so smart – it just boggles me.

 
    Ping.

 
    Dr.
Greene: I know. It won't happen again. I hope I didn't hurt you. I hope
you know that it did mean something.

 
    Me: But
you barely know me.

 
    Dr.
Greene: I know.

 
    Leave it
to a doctor to simply know everything – but maybe I was being too hard
on him. I wanted him as badly as he wanted me. I had dreamt of the encounter
before it actually came to life. I had touched myself imagining what it would
be like.
    But when
it finally happened, I was left with only confusion.
    Was I
special? We didn't even know each other. How could it have meant something when
the only real connection between us was friction and yearning? Surface things,
they say.
    Did that
matter?
    The first
ray of light slipped over the buildings. My eyes were tired, but I was still
rattling. I felt suspicious of his words, even though I so badly wanted to
believe them. But maybe he was as full of questions as I was.
    At 6   o'clock, on the dot, I texted him back.

 
    Me: I
felt something, too.

 
    I waited.
I eventually got up, took a shower, brushed my teeth and ate breakfast. But he
never responded.
    At
Starbucks, right before our first final – mine being Ethics, of all things –
Aimee prodded me on the forehead. I had my headphones in, with Lorene
Scafaria's “We Can't Be Friends” on repeat. At the present moment, it spoke to
the predicable twenty-two-year-old girl that lived inside of me.
    “Mia,”
Aimee said. “You've gone space cadet on me.”
    “Sorry,”
I muttered, removing an earbud. “What were you saying?”
    She took
a bite of her croissant, scattering the crumbs on her napkin. I took a sip of
my caramel macchiato.
    “I was
asking about when you should expect to hear back from Cambridge,” she said.
    Cambridge.
My chest heaved gently. My glittering, golden dream.
    “Next
month,” I told her. “Probably, at least. I'm sorry. I slept terribly last
night.”
    “I can see
that,” she agreed. “What ended up happening with all those doctor appointments,
anyway? Is everything okay?”
    “It's
probably just anxiety,” I said. “I think. I go back later in the week for
another check-up.”
    Aimee
whistled under her breath.
    “You
should see, after all of this is over, if you could get his phone number or
something,” she grinned. “If Cambridge falls through, he could make a good
back-up.”
    I sloshed
the ice around in my plastic cup, took another sip, swallowed the burnt
espresso.
    “I don't
think it's appropriate to talk about a medical professional that way,” I told
her. Her eyes widened, amused. Slightly curious. “He's a good doctor.”
    I
recalled, faintly, his empty office. Void of smiling faces in photographs, warm
family portraits, or even a pet. People framed photos of their pets, right?
    “Anyway,”
I sighed. There was more that I wanted to say – but different words for a
different day. “Let's go.”

 
 
 

Chapter 8
    ALEX

 
 
 
 
      I felt