I turn to the left and then to the right and look at myself in the mirror. I guess they actually look kind of good? I like how they accentuate the curve of my ass into my waist. The bit of extra fat on my waist is just squeezed up by the thick, high waist of the jeans.
I dig through the bag and look at my options for a top. I half expect to see some kind of neon pink halter top, or maybe a shirt with one loose shoulder hanging off—or any number of weird late 80s and early 90s fashions. Something straight out of Dirty Dancing. If mom jeans are back, why not all that other stuff?
I laugh, thinking about Kaden wearing short shorts like Tom Cruise and Val Kilmer in the volleyball scene from Top Gun.
I’m pretty relieved when I see that the tops are not too crazy. I settle on a subdued, maroon colored t-shirt with a slight V-neck. I get it on and am flabbergasted by how big my boobs look in what I would have considered a conservative t-shirt.
I guess that’s what my body looks like now, so I should get used to it. I can’t exactly complain about getting giant boobs seemingly overnight.
I neatly fold the clothes I didn’t choose to wear and put them back into the bag, and then I exit the bathroom and head back down the hall toward my room.
Walking still feels slightly off, but the more I walk, the more normal it feels. Kaden said I can probably be out of the hospital in a week or less.
I come back into the room and see Kaden leaning against the wall, his tattooed forearms crossed against his wide chest. His dark eyes widen when he sees me, almost imperceptibly, and he glances down at my body. I notice his lips part slightly, and he looks back up at me with the hint of a smirk.
“Do I look okay?” I ask.
“You look great,” he says. “I’ve never seen you without the hospital gown. You’re awake, Rose.”
“Of course I’m awake,” I say.
“It’s really hitting me, though, right now, that you’re going to get to live a normal life.”
“Mostly normal,” I say, looking down at my feet. “I’m still not sure what I’m going to do.”
“You’ll figure it out,” he says. “No matter how you look at it, it’s better than sleeping forever.”
I smile. “I was never an early riser, but I don’t think I’ll ever want to sleep in again after this. I’ll wake up every morning at the crack of dawn.”
“Good attitude,” he says, grinning. “So where do you want to go for your night out?”
It’s supposed to be a supervised few hours out of the hospital with my doctor babysitting me. But when the doctor is as hot as Kaden Prince, it’s hard to not think of it like a date. It’s silly to let myself dream like that, but it feels too good not to. I went too long without dreaming.
“Uh,” I say. “I’d like to eat some real food. I’ve been craving…”
I trail off. I don’t want to tell my doctor that I’ve been craving a hamburger and fries. It sounds so unsophisticated. Kaden is a rich doctor with a lot of experience, and I’m basically just a 25-year-old virgin who has fresh memories of high school.
“What?” he says. “Whatever you have a craving for, we’ll get it.”
“Uh,” I stammer. “I was going to say hamburgers and—”
“Perfect,” he says. “There’s a new place I can take you to. It’s amazing. Hamburger technology has advanced a lot in the past seven years.”
I smile, feeling relieved that he didn’t look down his nose at me.
We leave the building and enter the hospital gardens. I’ve been outside here a few times before, but it didn’t really feel like being outside. There were a lot of other sick people around me, and I wasn’t allowed to go far or do anything on my own.
We walk further out, and eventually we enter the parking garage.
“It would take a while to walk there,” Kaden says. “You don’t mind driving, do you?”
“Uh,” I say. “As long as you drive.”
“Of course,” he says, laughing.
We get to his car, and I don’t know two things about cars, but one thing I can figure out is that his car looks expensive.
“Woah,” I say.
“Oh,” Kaden says, grinning. “I should have shown you this car instead of Siri if I wanted to impress you. It’s a Tesla, and it’s fully electric. No gas at all.”
“So it’s slow?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “It’s fast. I can show you, just promise me that you won’t throw up in my car.” He winks at me.
“Not too fast then,” I say.
“Check this out,” he says, handing me the key.
I look at it, but I realize it’s not actually a key. It looks like a plastic beetle. “What’s this?”
“It’s the key,” he says. “Just walk up near the car.”
I clutch the key and walk toward the car. When I get about five feet away from it, I see the door begin to open automatically. “Woah!”
He laughs. “Get in.”
I slide into the car on the passenger’s side, and Kaden slides into the driver’s seat. I hand the keys to him.
“Are all cars like this now?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No, not exactly.”
I feel a little embarrassed asking. I remember he’s a brain surgeon—and that he had made millions of dollars before he even picked up a scalpel—and he probably has a much nicer car than everyone else does.
We drive out of the garage, and I feel a thrill blossoming in my chest. It feels so intimate, being alone in the car with him. Even though he’s just driving me around as his patient, I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something else there between us.
We get out of the immediate area of the hospital, and I see the U.S. Steel Tower on the skyline, and all of Pittsburgh’s bridges, some disappearing into tunnels. It’s a familiar sight, and it hasn’t changed at all.
We soon come to a parking lot, and Kaden drives up to a weird machine.
“It’s right across the street from here,” he says.
“The parking lot said it’s $8 to park, do—?”
He points to the machine. “Not for electric cars. This car pays for itself eight dollars at a time. After I park 25,000 times, the car is basically free.”
He pulls the cord off the machine, then presses a button on the little beetle thing. The gas tank pops open—but I remember it’s not actually a gas tank. The...charging flap? He plugs the car in, and gestures for me to start walking.
We walk side by side, arms almost brushing together as we walk. I remember when he kind-of-sort-of held my hand, but now that I can walk fine on my own, there’s no pretense for that.
I walk out into the street after looking to the left, but then I feel his protective hand grab hold of my forearm. I’m yanked back toward the sidewalk, and his other hand finds the small of my back.
A car zooms past us from the right.
“Oh,” I stammer. “How did I not—?”
“It’s normal,” he says. “Even though it doesn’t feel like it to you, it’s been a long time since you were out. Your reactions and awareness are going to be weaker for a while. That’s one reason I’m out with you. I’m supervising you.”