Title: Close, But Not Touching (1/9)
Rating: Ehh, I'll go with R, mild smut towards the end and a healthy dose of language throughout.
Spoilers: Through "Never Say Never." I used to have it set in season 7, but due to my own laziness and ER's insistence on messing with the characters I happen to write about, I scrapped the first part and started again.
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone from ER, NBC does, yadda yadda yadda. Except Jerry, cause I bought him on EBay a few years back and now he answers *my* phone calls. (I bet you wondered where he went, right?) And oh yeah, Malucci's being shipped to my address as we speak . . . now I'm saving up for Carter. ;)
Notes: The setting is right after the JC/JMC hug on the roof. This chapter is told from Deb's point of view.
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We stood there for a long time in that embrace, Carter and I, and in a few moments my tears had subsided. "What a shitty day," I mumbled into his shoulder.
"Oh, I don't know about that," Carter chuckled, and I looked up at him in horror. "Oh, well, I mean . . . of course it was a shitty day, you're leaving and everything-"
"It's all right, Carter, I saw the stupid French girl," I muttered.
"What stupid French girl?" he asked innocently.
"You know who I'm talking about, the stupid French girl who's coming between Dr. Kovac and Abby. The one who's securing their break-up. The cookie girl . . ."
"I love the stupid French girl," Carter admitted with a grin. "Did I mention how much I love the stupid French girl?"
"Yeah, well, now you and Abby can officially be together and quit with the under-the-gurney footsies," I said as I hugged him tighter. The comfort was still there, as was Carter's valuable body warmth.
"What is this footsies you speak of?" Carter asked. God, it was depressing to lament to a man this giddy.
"It was my foot this afternoon, Carter," I informed him with a sly smile. He consequently blushed. "It's all right, everyone knows about you two."
"It's just taken a long time, is all," Carter told me. "They'd been seeing each other for almost a year now."
"You've been waiting in the wings for almost a year?" I asked, surprised. "You could have had several relationships in that time - and some of them could have been of legal drinking age!"
Carter shoved me playfully. "Funny," he remarked. "That's reeeeal funny. You're a laugh riot, Deb."
A tinge went down my spine as he said my school name. "It's Jing-Mei," I replied, shoving him back just as playfully (and perhaps a little flirtatiously?). "Everyone else uses it, you should too."
"I've known you longer than anyone else, I'm allowed," he informed me.
"Dr. Greene has known me for just as long and he hasn't called me Deb." He actually called me Dr. Chen, but that didn't matter.
"He didn't call you Deb to begin with - he called you 'Hey you,' just like he called me," Carter chuckled.
"He did not," I defended. "He called me Deb, and he called you Carter."
"All right, tomorrow when we see him we'll ask him what he used to call you," Carter told me. The realization hit us both as soon as he said it. I wouldn't be back tomorrow.
"I shouldn't have quit," I murmured, suddenly subdued. "I should have just taken whatever Weaver was dishing out with a smile. Being demoted isn't so bad."
"Then stay," Carter urged. "It won't be so bad. You'll just have to do some grunt work for a while -"
"I can't, Carter -"
" -it's just a minor setback -"
"Carter -"
" - you'll be an Attending before you know it-"
"Carter!" I finally exclaimed, and he stopped talking to look at me. "I can't come back. Even if Weaver hadn't screwed me over . . . even if I was still Chief Resident . . . I don't know if I could work here with that guilt."
"It wasn't your fault, Deb," Carter told me softly, and he looked into my eyes with that expression, the one that made you weak at the knees and turn into a melted puddle of mush at his feet. It was sorrowful yet sympathetic - concerned yet contemplative. "You know that, right?"
I shrugged. "I've really talked about this enough for a long time, if you don't mind. After being hung out to dry by Weaver and accused of manslaughter by Romano, I'm really tired of it."
Carter nodded and pulled me closer to him. "I understand," he told me.
We stood together on the rooftop for several minutes, each of us deep in thought about one thing or another. "I'm probably keeping you from something," I finally said, not really caring if I was or not.
"Nah."
"Isn't Abby waiting for you?" I inquired, but the teasing wasn't appreciated anymore. I only got a glare from him. "I'm sorry."
"That's all right. It's better than the Rena jokes," Carter commented as he hugged me closer.
That teasing comment should have been funny, and in another place and time I probably would have had an equally smart-ass reply. But it wasn't and I didn't - and all of I sudden I felt more depressed than ever before.
Carter must have sensed my sudden disheartenment. "You ok?" he asked, concerned.
My instinct would have been to smile and nod, but the tears were suddenly back and there was no hiding them. "No," I admitted with a whisper. "I have nothing left."
"Well, you can contact Northwestern, I've got the number -"
"I mean in life, Carter," I blurted out. "This job was all I had. God, how pathetic - I'm almost 30 years old and already I'm Kerry Weaver."
"Oh come on, you're not Weaver," Carter reprimanded. "And besides, you're only 28. You've got plenty of time to start making a life outside of work."
I broke away from his embrace with something that felt like anger. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean?!"
Carter stared at me, confused. "I'm . . . not . . . sure . . ." he said cautiously.
I sighed and leaned with my back against the wall. "I'm sorry. It's just . . . I don't know . . . what if all my opportunities have passed me by? What if the man I'm supposed to marry has already come and gone because I was too busy to notice him? What if Michael was my only chance to have a child, and I gave him up because of my stupid prejudiced family? What's left for me now that I'm not even focused on my career anymore?"
Carter seemed to be thinking this over. "I guess that depends on what you believe about fate. You've always been a practical person - I never would have pegged you for someone who believes our lives are out of our control, and being controlled by the whimsy of fate."
"You're not helping," I complained bitterly.
"Well, if what you're saying about fate is true, then what the hell are we doing as doctors? Fate would take place no matter how many minutes we resumed compressions, or what drugs we pushed, or how many times we look at an X ray." I shot him a glare at this one. "What I mean is . . . I don't think fate exists as prevalently as you think. We defy fate every day whenever we save someone's life," Carter rationalized.
"Well, what if they're just destined to live?" I asked as I put my hands in my pockets. "What if we've go no say in the matter? We may just be a tool to help fate along."
"No. I don't believe that." Carter was shaking his head adamantly - apparently he'd already considered this idea. "I see too many variables between life and death every day for me to believe that the control is out of my hands." He eyed me carefully. "Where is all this coming from?"
"Losing the only part of my life that gets me out of bed in the morning tends to make me reanalyze my future," I muttered, shuffling my feet in the gravel. "I mean, I used to think that if I did well as a doctor and helped as many people as I could, then maybe I could forget that I go home alone every night. Or that the only proof that I even existed lives with another mother and father and is growing up perfectly fine without me. I mean, honestly - what if I never have another chance to be a mother . . . or to be happy, for that matter?"
Carter moved closed to me and put an arm around my shoulders. "I think that the what ifs of life should be what get you out of bed in the morning. A big part of living life is living the unknown. If anything really is predestined, there's no point in even living."
I chuckled and relaxed in his arms. "Someone saw 'Serendipity' this weekend," I teased.
"Abby made me go," he admitted.
"Of course," I mused with a sly smile. "But do you see what I mean? You've got Abby, Luka's got the stupid French girl, and I've got no one. *No* one!"
Carter looked at me with a straight face that threatened to break into a smile. "You can learn a lesson from John Cusack movies. There's a perfect someone for everyone." He grinned. "Even weary, worn-out doctors like us."
I rolled my eyes and elbowed him in the ribs playfully. "Now you're just sounding like a lame Hallmark card," I sighed.
"Well, maybe it's true. After all, we're still young and vaguely attractive, despite our exhausting work hours."
"Yeah, speak for yourself," I muttered. Oh, fabulous. Out comes the self- consciousness.
"Aww, what are you talking about, you're gorgeous," Carter said fondly.
"No, actually, I look as tired as a single mother but I don't have a child - I look overworked but I don't have a job - and I've made zero effort in keeping up my appearance since I'm destined to become a spinster for the rest of my life."
"Well, you could have fooled me, because you're beautiful." Somehow, Carter's stubbornness when insisting on giving a compliment was more annoying than if he hadn't bothered at all.
"Whatever," I grumbled, kicking a rock against the wall. "You don't have to say that, you're not my boyfriend or anything."
"I'm your best friend," Carter informed me. "And besides, that doesn't matter - I'd say it anyway because it's the truth."
This comment struck me - not just because of his cheesy save, but because he referred to me as his best friend. "I thought Abby was your best friend," I said uncertainly.
"Abby's a good friend," Carter admitted. "But . . . I don't know . . . you're different."
"Different . . . how?" I was curious to see how he'd weasel out of this one.
"Well . . . I don't know, I guess I don't love Abby like I love you -"
"Wait!" I exclaimed, turning to face him directly. "You . . . you love me?"
Carter averted his eyes and shrugged, obviously embarrassed about divulging his feelings. That's how Carter was - he didn't realize that he'd said too much until he'd already said it.
"Carter . . ." I teased with a grin. "Come on . . . you love me?"
"As my best friend, yeah," Carter murmured, but there was no mistaking the growing smile on his face.
"Aw, Carter loves me," I exclaimed, hugging him around the middle. "How cute!"
"Yeah, yeah, you're a laugh and a half tonight," he chuckled, hugging me back.
Obviously I knew he didn't love me in the romantic sense - that would just be silly. But it was kind of sweet to see him blush when he admitted he loved me as a friend. "If it makes you feel any better," I offered, "I love you as my best friend, too."
Carter grinned sheepishly - I could tell he was still sort of embarrassed.
"It's a good thing we don't *love* each other," I chuckled, moving in closer to his face jokingly. "Otherwise this might mean something."
I kissed him softly, jokingly, just to be silly - Carter's surprised look was classic! But he didn't look surprised for long, and instead I was shocked to find him quickly reciprocate the kiss. I tried to cut it off - honestly, I had every intention of cutting it off . . . this was getting out of control . . .
But suddenly, I didn't want to.
I found myself eagerly kissing him now, all thoughts that screamed WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?? were gone from my mind as I wrapped my arms around his neck and deepened the rapidly escalating kiss. This was nice. No, it was more than nice. 'Definitely more than nice,' I concluded as I felt Carter's tongue slip inside my mouth. His hands went to the side of my neck and I was shocked to find how turned on I was becoming -
And then it ended.
I stared at Carter with as much awe as he was staring at me. "See?" I managed to whisper, trying to catch my breath. "Nothing at all."
"Nothing," Carter breathed, and in a second we were kissing the hell out of each other again.
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Frantically I rummaged through my purse with one hand, searching for the keys to my apartment. This was especially difficult since Carter was pressing me against the apartment door and kissing me forcefully. The kisses had changed from sweet and passionate to quick and frantic - it was like each other's lips were the most delicious things we'd ever tasted, and with each passing second we couldn't get enough of the taste.
The cab ride had been significantly less R rated, unless you counted the slight but considerably inappropriate groping that had occurred. My giggling hadn't helped matters - the cab driver had been watching us in the rearview mirror and his expression had been one of combined fondness and worry. I had felt like assuring him that no, we weren't going to have sex in his cab, but frankly I had been slightly distracted . . .
Then there had been the elevator, and the small of my back was still slightly sore from being pressed into the buttons on the wall. But in the moment I hadn't even noticed it - I had been busy trying to keep my balance and to savor the feeling of Carter's hands on my back and his lips on my neck . . .
And now, in front of my apartment, while one hand was locating my keys in my purse, my other hand was under Carter's shirt, holding on for support if not pleasure. His hands were pressed against the door on either side of my head, and I regrettably broke the kiss off to turn around and unlock the door. This didn't stop Carter - soon he was kissing the back of my neck so softly and rhythmically that it made my skin tingle.
The door opened then and I stumbled through with Carter right behind me. "Watch it!" I giggled, and Carter wrapped his arms around my waist from the back and kissed my neck.
I sighed in pleasure; quickly I turned around and eagerly kissed him on the mouth. Carter responded hungrily, and before my mind could fully recover from this ecstasy he took his hands off my waist and pulled my coat from my shoulders in one rapid movement. Impressed, I tried the same with his, but succeeded only in yanking him away from my lips. "Ow," he complained.
"I'm sorry," I giggled, taking his coat off more carefully this time. After the feat was completed I moved in for another kiss - Carter ran his hands through my hair and we melted into the passion.
We were becoming steamier with each kiss, and soon we had made our way to my sofa. Slowly Carter pressed me to the cushion - one hand was up my shirt and the other was running through my hair. Both of my hands were wrapped around his neck, and the situation suddenly held the essence of a high school make-out session. Which was fine with me - hell, I hadn't had some in a while, who was I to be picky?
As Carter's lips moved to my neck and slowly down my chest, a thought suddenly came to my mind - "Dr. Carter rocks my world!" and I collapsed with giggles.
Carter lifted his head and looked at me with puzzlement. "What's so funny?" he demanded.
"Nothing, nothing," I assured him with a chuckle, and I leaned up to kiss him. Carter moved back up to my face and pressed his body against mine . . . I reached down to unbuckle his belt . . .
And something suddenly began to feel not quite right.
I cut the kiss off abruptly and moved my face to the side. "Carter, hold on a minute," I told him, but his lips never moved from the side of my neck.
"Carter . . ." I attempted to push him off of me, but to no avail. "Uggghhh . . . Carter, hold on for a minute!"
He looked up, surprised. "What's wrong?" Carter asked, rolling to the side of the couch.
I ran my fingers through my hair and sat up. "I don't think this is right," I murmured, flipping on the nearby lamp. "We shouldn't be doing this."
Carter was tracing his fingers up and down my side, from my breast to my stomach. "Yes, we should," he concluded.
"No, Carter," I muttered, and I pushed his hand away. "It isn't right. I'm only doing this because I'm upset and it's not right to drag you through this kind of emotional struggle."
"I don't mind, trust me," he assured me, his fingers tracing the nape of my neck.
"Come on, Carter," I muttered, pushing his hand away again. "We're doing this for all the wrong reasons. Just because I haven't had sex in a long time or because I'm upset over losing my job . . . I don't want to jeopardize our friendship."
"It won't," he told me, but I could sense the same hesitation in his voice that I felt in mine. Carter sat up and finally took his hands off me. "But if you don't want to . . . I understand. I don't want to pressure you into anything you don't want to do."
I looked at him with genuine misery. He had no idea how badly I wanted to do this. Carter had always been attractive to me, but for the first time I found him incredibly sexy and sensual. He had been so soft and caring tonight, yet passionate; a night with Carter would definitely get my spirits up. After all, it wouldn't be the first time I'd had sex without any romantic inclinations, and I guessed that it wouldn't be Carter's first, either. But there was something about how obsessed he was with Abby Lockhart . . . something about how happy he'd been when she and Luka broke up, and how flirty he was when she was around . . . A girl doesn't like for a man to pretend she's someone else while they're making love. It's a general rule of sex, or of relationships for that matter. Even if this was just a fling - even if this night was the only time Carter and I would sleep together - it wouldn't be right to go through with it if we both were in it for the very wrong reasons.
Apparently I had been silent for quite a while, because Carter's next words were solemn - "I guess this is my cue to leave." He waited a second or so, presumably for me to change my mind, then stood up and quickly left the apartment with only a "bang" of the door.
As soon as he left I collapsed onto the couch and pressed my fists into my eyes. This was entirely too much emotional strife for one person, for one day. First I lose my job, then I almost sleep with Carter - what the hell was wrong with my cosmic karma?
The tingling in my body that I hadn't noticed before was beginning to subside, and the first question that came to my mind was 'I wonder if Carter's still in the building?'
'He's probably not even in the elevator yet,' I thought, stretching my suddenly empty hands over my head.
The next question that inevitably followed was 'Did you make the right choice?'
"Of course I did," I answered out loud. "It was wrong for us to drown our problems in sex."
'Just do it.' The thought was surprisingly clear to me.
"Arrrggg," I grumbled, pressing my fists into my eyes again. "I'm not going to sleep with Carter just to get my mind off my problems."
'Fuck that, you know you're wrong. You can still catch him. Just do it.'
"Now I'm answering to the voices in my head," I muttered. "This is a good sign, all right."
'Stop thinking and just do it.'
This alter ego's startling clarity was alarming to me, and silently I thought 'It will ruin our friendship.'
'Your friendship is already pretty fucking ruined. Plus you're leaving County anyway. Burn your bridges while they're still hot enough to be burned.'
I took my hands away from my eyes and considered this. Carter would probably be sleeping alone now, as would I. And if he was half as turned on as I was . . .
Aw, the hell with it.
Rapidly I sprang up from the couch, grabbed my keys, and left the apartment with a "slam" of the door. There was no one in the hallway - frantically I rushed to the elevator and pressed the button to go down (an irony in itself, considering how Carter and I had acted when we were in the elevator not 15 minutes ago).
Moments later the elevator doors opened and I tore into the lobby, searching for Carter's long black coat anywhere in the building. But he was nowhere in sight. Damn, that man moved fast. I remembered how his hands had flown over my body, and I smiled slightly at the irony of this second statement. 'I'd better get some tonight,' I thought, 'or I'm going to be thinking this dirty all night.'
I left the building, oblivious to the fact that my blouse was half- unbuttoned and my bra was rather obviously showing. Quickly I scanned the street - "Carter!" I hollered, watching as he rounded the corner, then stopped at the sound of his name.
Relieved, I ran down the street to catch up with him. But what to say? What could I possibly say to get Carter back up to my apartment? Carter scorned was less fun to deal with than Carter embarrassed - and if they were one in the same, you were pretty much screwed.
Once I approached him there were no words on my lips - instead, I flew into his arms and kissed him deeply. He seemed reluctant to reciprocate at first, but after a few moments he returned the kiss with equal fervor. But suddenly he cut the kiss off. "What about the whole friendship thing?" he asked, concerned. "And about escaping our problems -"
I put a finger to his lips and eyed him seductively. "Just shut up," I told Carter, and kissed him more passionately than I'd ever kissed a man before.
Rating: Ehh, I'll go with R, mild smut towards the end and a healthy dose of language throughout.
Spoilers: Through "Never Say Never." I used to have it set in season 7, but due to my own laziness and ER's insistence on messing with the characters I happen to write about, I scrapped the first part and started again.
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone from ER, NBC does, yadda yadda yadda. Except Jerry, cause I bought him on EBay a few years back and now he answers *my* phone calls. (I bet you wondered where he went, right?) And oh yeah, Malucci's being shipped to my address as we speak . . . now I'm saving up for Carter. ;)
Notes: The setting is right after the JC/JMC hug on the roof. This chapter is told from Deb's point of view.
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We stood there for a long time in that embrace, Carter and I, and in a few moments my tears had subsided. "What a shitty day," I mumbled into his shoulder.
"Oh, I don't know about that," Carter chuckled, and I looked up at him in horror. "Oh, well, I mean . . . of course it was a shitty day, you're leaving and everything-"
"It's all right, Carter, I saw the stupid French girl," I muttered.
"What stupid French girl?" he asked innocently.
"You know who I'm talking about, the stupid French girl who's coming between Dr. Kovac and Abby. The one who's securing their break-up. The cookie girl . . ."
"I love the stupid French girl," Carter admitted with a grin. "Did I mention how much I love the stupid French girl?"
"Yeah, well, now you and Abby can officially be together and quit with the under-the-gurney footsies," I said as I hugged him tighter. The comfort was still there, as was Carter's valuable body warmth.
"What is this footsies you speak of?" Carter asked. God, it was depressing to lament to a man this giddy.
"It was my foot this afternoon, Carter," I informed him with a sly smile. He consequently blushed. "It's all right, everyone knows about you two."
"It's just taken a long time, is all," Carter told me. "They'd been seeing each other for almost a year now."
"You've been waiting in the wings for almost a year?" I asked, surprised. "You could have had several relationships in that time - and some of them could have been of legal drinking age!"
Carter shoved me playfully. "Funny," he remarked. "That's reeeeal funny. You're a laugh riot, Deb."
A tinge went down my spine as he said my school name. "It's Jing-Mei," I replied, shoving him back just as playfully (and perhaps a little flirtatiously?). "Everyone else uses it, you should too."
"I've known you longer than anyone else, I'm allowed," he informed me.
"Dr. Greene has known me for just as long and he hasn't called me Deb." He actually called me Dr. Chen, but that didn't matter.
"He didn't call you Deb to begin with - he called you 'Hey you,' just like he called me," Carter chuckled.
"He did not," I defended. "He called me Deb, and he called you Carter."
"All right, tomorrow when we see him we'll ask him what he used to call you," Carter told me. The realization hit us both as soon as he said it. I wouldn't be back tomorrow.
"I shouldn't have quit," I murmured, suddenly subdued. "I should have just taken whatever Weaver was dishing out with a smile. Being demoted isn't so bad."
"Then stay," Carter urged. "It won't be so bad. You'll just have to do some grunt work for a while -"
"I can't, Carter -"
" -it's just a minor setback -"
"Carter -"
" - you'll be an Attending before you know it-"
"Carter!" I finally exclaimed, and he stopped talking to look at me. "I can't come back. Even if Weaver hadn't screwed me over . . . even if I was still Chief Resident . . . I don't know if I could work here with that guilt."
"It wasn't your fault, Deb," Carter told me softly, and he looked into my eyes with that expression, the one that made you weak at the knees and turn into a melted puddle of mush at his feet. It was sorrowful yet sympathetic - concerned yet contemplative. "You know that, right?"
I shrugged. "I've really talked about this enough for a long time, if you don't mind. After being hung out to dry by Weaver and accused of manslaughter by Romano, I'm really tired of it."
Carter nodded and pulled me closer to him. "I understand," he told me.
We stood together on the rooftop for several minutes, each of us deep in thought about one thing or another. "I'm probably keeping you from something," I finally said, not really caring if I was or not.
"Nah."
"Isn't Abby waiting for you?" I inquired, but the teasing wasn't appreciated anymore. I only got a glare from him. "I'm sorry."
"That's all right. It's better than the Rena jokes," Carter commented as he hugged me closer.
That teasing comment should have been funny, and in another place and time I probably would have had an equally smart-ass reply. But it wasn't and I didn't - and all of I sudden I felt more depressed than ever before.
Carter must have sensed my sudden disheartenment. "You ok?" he asked, concerned.
My instinct would have been to smile and nod, but the tears were suddenly back and there was no hiding them. "No," I admitted with a whisper. "I have nothing left."
"Well, you can contact Northwestern, I've got the number -"
"I mean in life, Carter," I blurted out. "This job was all I had. God, how pathetic - I'm almost 30 years old and already I'm Kerry Weaver."
"Oh come on, you're not Weaver," Carter reprimanded. "And besides, you're only 28. You've got plenty of time to start making a life outside of work."
I broke away from his embrace with something that felt like anger. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean?!"
Carter stared at me, confused. "I'm . . . not . . . sure . . ." he said cautiously.
I sighed and leaned with my back against the wall. "I'm sorry. It's just . . . I don't know . . . what if all my opportunities have passed me by? What if the man I'm supposed to marry has already come and gone because I was too busy to notice him? What if Michael was my only chance to have a child, and I gave him up because of my stupid prejudiced family? What's left for me now that I'm not even focused on my career anymore?"
Carter seemed to be thinking this over. "I guess that depends on what you believe about fate. You've always been a practical person - I never would have pegged you for someone who believes our lives are out of our control, and being controlled by the whimsy of fate."
"You're not helping," I complained bitterly.
"Well, if what you're saying about fate is true, then what the hell are we doing as doctors? Fate would take place no matter how many minutes we resumed compressions, or what drugs we pushed, or how many times we look at an X ray." I shot him a glare at this one. "What I mean is . . . I don't think fate exists as prevalently as you think. We defy fate every day whenever we save someone's life," Carter rationalized.
"Well, what if they're just destined to live?" I asked as I put my hands in my pockets. "What if we've go no say in the matter? We may just be a tool to help fate along."
"No. I don't believe that." Carter was shaking his head adamantly - apparently he'd already considered this idea. "I see too many variables between life and death every day for me to believe that the control is out of my hands." He eyed me carefully. "Where is all this coming from?"
"Losing the only part of my life that gets me out of bed in the morning tends to make me reanalyze my future," I muttered, shuffling my feet in the gravel. "I mean, I used to think that if I did well as a doctor and helped as many people as I could, then maybe I could forget that I go home alone every night. Or that the only proof that I even existed lives with another mother and father and is growing up perfectly fine without me. I mean, honestly - what if I never have another chance to be a mother . . . or to be happy, for that matter?"
Carter moved closed to me and put an arm around my shoulders. "I think that the what ifs of life should be what get you out of bed in the morning. A big part of living life is living the unknown. If anything really is predestined, there's no point in even living."
I chuckled and relaxed in his arms. "Someone saw 'Serendipity' this weekend," I teased.
"Abby made me go," he admitted.
"Of course," I mused with a sly smile. "But do you see what I mean? You've got Abby, Luka's got the stupid French girl, and I've got no one. *No* one!"
Carter looked at me with a straight face that threatened to break into a smile. "You can learn a lesson from John Cusack movies. There's a perfect someone for everyone." He grinned. "Even weary, worn-out doctors like us."
I rolled my eyes and elbowed him in the ribs playfully. "Now you're just sounding like a lame Hallmark card," I sighed.
"Well, maybe it's true. After all, we're still young and vaguely attractive, despite our exhausting work hours."
"Yeah, speak for yourself," I muttered. Oh, fabulous. Out comes the self- consciousness.
"Aww, what are you talking about, you're gorgeous," Carter said fondly.
"No, actually, I look as tired as a single mother but I don't have a child - I look overworked but I don't have a job - and I've made zero effort in keeping up my appearance since I'm destined to become a spinster for the rest of my life."
"Well, you could have fooled me, because you're beautiful." Somehow, Carter's stubbornness when insisting on giving a compliment was more annoying than if he hadn't bothered at all.
"Whatever," I grumbled, kicking a rock against the wall. "You don't have to say that, you're not my boyfriend or anything."
"I'm your best friend," Carter informed me. "And besides, that doesn't matter - I'd say it anyway because it's the truth."
This comment struck me - not just because of his cheesy save, but because he referred to me as his best friend. "I thought Abby was your best friend," I said uncertainly.
"Abby's a good friend," Carter admitted. "But . . . I don't know . . . you're different."
"Different . . . how?" I was curious to see how he'd weasel out of this one.
"Well . . . I don't know, I guess I don't love Abby like I love you -"
"Wait!" I exclaimed, turning to face him directly. "You . . . you love me?"
Carter averted his eyes and shrugged, obviously embarrassed about divulging his feelings. That's how Carter was - he didn't realize that he'd said too much until he'd already said it.
"Carter . . ." I teased with a grin. "Come on . . . you love me?"
"As my best friend, yeah," Carter murmured, but there was no mistaking the growing smile on his face.
"Aw, Carter loves me," I exclaimed, hugging him around the middle. "How cute!"
"Yeah, yeah, you're a laugh and a half tonight," he chuckled, hugging me back.
Obviously I knew he didn't love me in the romantic sense - that would just be silly. But it was kind of sweet to see him blush when he admitted he loved me as a friend. "If it makes you feel any better," I offered, "I love you as my best friend, too."
Carter grinned sheepishly - I could tell he was still sort of embarrassed.
"It's a good thing we don't *love* each other," I chuckled, moving in closer to his face jokingly. "Otherwise this might mean something."
I kissed him softly, jokingly, just to be silly - Carter's surprised look was classic! But he didn't look surprised for long, and instead I was shocked to find him quickly reciprocate the kiss. I tried to cut it off - honestly, I had every intention of cutting it off . . . this was getting out of control . . .
But suddenly, I didn't want to.
I found myself eagerly kissing him now, all thoughts that screamed WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?? were gone from my mind as I wrapped my arms around his neck and deepened the rapidly escalating kiss. This was nice. No, it was more than nice. 'Definitely more than nice,' I concluded as I felt Carter's tongue slip inside my mouth. His hands went to the side of my neck and I was shocked to find how turned on I was becoming -
And then it ended.
I stared at Carter with as much awe as he was staring at me. "See?" I managed to whisper, trying to catch my breath. "Nothing at all."
"Nothing," Carter breathed, and in a second we were kissing the hell out of each other again.
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Frantically I rummaged through my purse with one hand, searching for the keys to my apartment. This was especially difficult since Carter was pressing me against the apartment door and kissing me forcefully. The kisses had changed from sweet and passionate to quick and frantic - it was like each other's lips were the most delicious things we'd ever tasted, and with each passing second we couldn't get enough of the taste.
The cab ride had been significantly less R rated, unless you counted the slight but considerably inappropriate groping that had occurred. My giggling hadn't helped matters - the cab driver had been watching us in the rearview mirror and his expression had been one of combined fondness and worry. I had felt like assuring him that no, we weren't going to have sex in his cab, but frankly I had been slightly distracted . . .
Then there had been the elevator, and the small of my back was still slightly sore from being pressed into the buttons on the wall. But in the moment I hadn't even noticed it - I had been busy trying to keep my balance and to savor the feeling of Carter's hands on my back and his lips on my neck . . .
And now, in front of my apartment, while one hand was locating my keys in my purse, my other hand was under Carter's shirt, holding on for support if not pleasure. His hands were pressed against the door on either side of my head, and I regrettably broke the kiss off to turn around and unlock the door. This didn't stop Carter - soon he was kissing the back of my neck so softly and rhythmically that it made my skin tingle.
The door opened then and I stumbled through with Carter right behind me. "Watch it!" I giggled, and Carter wrapped his arms around my waist from the back and kissed my neck.
I sighed in pleasure; quickly I turned around and eagerly kissed him on the mouth. Carter responded hungrily, and before my mind could fully recover from this ecstasy he took his hands off my waist and pulled my coat from my shoulders in one rapid movement. Impressed, I tried the same with his, but succeeded only in yanking him away from my lips. "Ow," he complained.
"I'm sorry," I giggled, taking his coat off more carefully this time. After the feat was completed I moved in for another kiss - Carter ran his hands through my hair and we melted into the passion.
We were becoming steamier with each kiss, and soon we had made our way to my sofa. Slowly Carter pressed me to the cushion - one hand was up my shirt and the other was running through my hair. Both of my hands were wrapped around his neck, and the situation suddenly held the essence of a high school make-out session. Which was fine with me - hell, I hadn't had some in a while, who was I to be picky?
As Carter's lips moved to my neck and slowly down my chest, a thought suddenly came to my mind - "Dr. Carter rocks my world!" and I collapsed with giggles.
Carter lifted his head and looked at me with puzzlement. "What's so funny?" he demanded.
"Nothing, nothing," I assured him with a chuckle, and I leaned up to kiss him. Carter moved back up to my face and pressed his body against mine . . . I reached down to unbuckle his belt . . .
And something suddenly began to feel not quite right.
I cut the kiss off abruptly and moved my face to the side. "Carter, hold on a minute," I told him, but his lips never moved from the side of my neck.
"Carter . . ." I attempted to push him off of me, but to no avail. "Uggghhh . . . Carter, hold on for a minute!"
He looked up, surprised. "What's wrong?" Carter asked, rolling to the side of the couch.
I ran my fingers through my hair and sat up. "I don't think this is right," I murmured, flipping on the nearby lamp. "We shouldn't be doing this."
Carter was tracing his fingers up and down my side, from my breast to my stomach. "Yes, we should," he concluded.
"No, Carter," I muttered, and I pushed his hand away. "It isn't right. I'm only doing this because I'm upset and it's not right to drag you through this kind of emotional struggle."
"I don't mind, trust me," he assured me, his fingers tracing the nape of my neck.
"Come on, Carter," I muttered, pushing his hand away again. "We're doing this for all the wrong reasons. Just because I haven't had sex in a long time or because I'm upset over losing my job . . . I don't want to jeopardize our friendship."
"It won't," he told me, but I could sense the same hesitation in his voice that I felt in mine. Carter sat up and finally took his hands off me. "But if you don't want to . . . I understand. I don't want to pressure you into anything you don't want to do."
I looked at him with genuine misery. He had no idea how badly I wanted to do this. Carter had always been attractive to me, but for the first time I found him incredibly sexy and sensual. He had been so soft and caring tonight, yet passionate; a night with Carter would definitely get my spirits up. After all, it wouldn't be the first time I'd had sex without any romantic inclinations, and I guessed that it wouldn't be Carter's first, either. But there was something about how obsessed he was with Abby Lockhart . . . something about how happy he'd been when she and Luka broke up, and how flirty he was when she was around . . . A girl doesn't like for a man to pretend she's someone else while they're making love. It's a general rule of sex, or of relationships for that matter. Even if this was just a fling - even if this night was the only time Carter and I would sleep together - it wouldn't be right to go through with it if we both were in it for the very wrong reasons.
Apparently I had been silent for quite a while, because Carter's next words were solemn - "I guess this is my cue to leave." He waited a second or so, presumably for me to change my mind, then stood up and quickly left the apartment with only a "bang" of the door.
As soon as he left I collapsed onto the couch and pressed my fists into my eyes. This was entirely too much emotional strife for one person, for one day. First I lose my job, then I almost sleep with Carter - what the hell was wrong with my cosmic karma?
The tingling in my body that I hadn't noticed before was beginning to subside, and the first question that came to my mind was 'I wonder if Carter's still in the building?'
'He's probably not even in the elevator yet,' I thought, stretching my suddenly empty hands over my head.
The next question that inevitably followed was 'Did you make the right choice?'
"Of course I did," I answered out loud. "It was wrong for us to drown our problems in sex."
'Just do it.' The thought was surprisingly clear to me.
"Arrrggg," I grumbled, pressing my fists into my eyes again. "I'm not going to sleep with Carter just to get my mind off my problems."
'Fuck that, you know you're wrong. You can still catch him. Just do it.'
"Now I'm answering to the voices in my head," I muttered. "This is a good sign, all right."
'Stop thinking and just do it.'
This alter ego's startling clarity was alarming to me, and silently I thought 'It will ruin our friendship.'
'Your friendship is already pretty fucking ruined. Plus you're leaving County anyway. Burn your bridges while they're still hot enough to be burned.'
I took my hands away from my eyes and considered this. Carter would probably be sleeping alone now, as would I. And if he was half as turned on as I was . . .
Aw, the hell with it.
Rapidly I sprang up from the couch, grabbed my keys, and left the apartment with a "slam" of the door. There was no one in the hallway - frantically I rushed to the elevator and pressed the button to go down (an irony in itself, considering how Carter and I had acted when we were in the elevator not 15 minutes ago).
Moments later the elevator doors opened and I tore into the lobby, searching for Carter's long black coat anywhere in the building. But he was nowhere in sight. Damn, that man moved fast. I remembered how his hands had flown over my body, and I smiled slightly at the irony of this second statement. 'I'd better get some tonight,' I thought, 'or I'm going to be thinking this dirty all night.'
I left the building, oblivious to the fact that my blouse was half- unbuttoned and my bra was rather obviously showing. Quickly I scanned the street - "Carter!" I hollered, watching as he rounded the corner, then stopped at the sound of his name.
Relieved, I ran down the street to catch up with him. But what to say? What could I possibly say to get Carter back up to my apartment? Carter scorned was less fun to deal with than Carter embarrassed - and if they were one in the same, you were pretty much screwed.
Once I approached him there were no words on my lips - instead, I flew into his arms and kissed him deeply. He seemed reluctant to reciprocate at first, but after a few moments he returned the kiss with equal fervor. But suddenly he cut the kiss off. "What about the whole friendship thing?" he asked, concerned. "And about escaping our problems -"
I put a finger to his lips and eyed him seductively. "Just shut up," I told Carter, and kissed him more passionately than I'd ever kissed a man before.