Quench Me by Amy – Chapter 8

Republisher’s Note: Danny is away from the mob and working for Spaulding when he meets med student Michelle. His mixed signals have given her a migraine and he insisted she stay over in a guest room. When an erotic dream wakes her up, she checks to see if he possibly heard her call out his name.

Quench Me by Amy – Chapter 8

I feel my body begin to shake, as I stand next to him in the hallway. His words are still ringing in my ears – “Do you need anything from me?” How am I supposed to answer that?

“No, I’m fine,” I say, as I step backwards toward the bedroom door, trying desperately to put some distance between our bodies.

“Are you sure?” he asks, as he puts his hand on my shoulder. “You’re soaking with sweat.”

“No kidding, lover boy,” I think to myself.

“It’s just the medicine,” I lie.

“That’s some medicine,” he says. “First it knock you out, then it gives you crazy dreams, and now it’s making you sweat.”

“Yeah, but it gets rid of the migraines,” I say, as I laugh and try to be funny.

“Well, since neither one of us can sleep, why don’t we see what’s on television?” he asks. “There’s a TV in my bedroom. Come on.”

He takes my hand and walks me across the hall and through his bedroom door. He must really have no idea what he’s doing to me.

I look around his bedroom, taking in all the unique things that define this place as “his”. His briefcase, the one I mistook for Phillip’s, is on the desk in the far right corner of the room. A black leather jacket hangs on the chair that accompanies the desk. Car keys and wallet lie on the nightstand, next to the watch I saw him lay there last night.

“What are we going to find on TV at 3:00 in the morning?” I ask.

“I’m sure we can find some re-runs or something,” he answers, as he sits down on the side of his bed closest to the door. He pats the other side of his bed with his hand and says, “Sit here.”

My head is screaming “NO”, but my body takes me there anyway, and sits me down on Danny’s bed, next to Danny himself, wearing pajama bottoms and nothing else. The king size bed might as well be a twin size, and the few feet between us seem like only inches. This is turning into the longest night of my life.

As he channel surfs in search of something to watch, I look up at him, trying desperately to come up with some form of small talk to break the tension I feel.

“This has been a rather strange evening,” I say.

He looks over at me and says, “Yeah, I know. I didn’t really expect you to have a migraine headache on our first date.”

Date? Did he just say date? I refuse to let myself entertain the idea. I’ll not get my hopes up again. I continue talking as if he never made that last comment.

“We met on Tuesday, and got of to a rather rocky start. Now it’s Friday night, or rather Saturday morning, and I’m spending the night at your house, despite the fact that we don’t really know each other.”

“Don’t you trust me, Michelle?” he asks, staring at me once again with that stare that sends me into orbit.

I can do nothing but answer truthfully. “Yes, Danny, I trust you. Do you trust me?”

“I do, Michelle.”

Our gaze is broken when we hear the Andy Griffith Show theme song blaring from the television set. Without another word, we both turn to the TV and commence watching.

The next thing I’m aware of is sunlight streaming across my face. I press my face further into the pillow, trying to block the morning light from my eyes, and I’m immediately met with a wonderful scent thatI can only describe as “him”.

My mind not completely alert yet, I mumble, “Mmmm, Danny.”

At that, I hear a commotion from the floor at the side of the bed. I realize that I’m in Danny’s bed and that he’s on the floor beside me.

“Michelle,” he says, as he sits up and looks over the mattress at me.

“What am I doing in your bed?” I ask, brushing my hair out of my face.

“You feel asleep, and I wasn’t going to wake you up and tell you to go back across the hall.”

“Why are you in the floor?”

“Well, I didn’t figure it would be a good idea for me to stay in the bed with you. I didn’t want you to wake up and be scared or uncomfortable.”

“I wouldn’t have been scared,” I reply. “What time is it?”

He sits up further and looks at the alarm clock on the night stand. “Almost 10:00,” he answers.

“Dammit, I’ve got to call Rick,” I say.

Danny quickly points to the phone beside the alarm clock, and I immediately grab the receiver. Danny stands up and sits down beside me on the bed as I dial the number for Cedar’s Hospital.

“E.R.,” I hear from a female voice on the other end of the line.

“Is Dr. Bauer still there?” I ask, praying that he is.

“Yes, just one moment,” she answers, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

For a moment the phone is silent as the nurse pages my brother. Danny looks at me and mouths the words “How is your head?”, as he gently smoothes the back of my hair. I answer him with a thumbs up, just as Rick comes on the line.

“Dr. Bauer.”

“Rick, it’s me,” I quickly say.

“Good morning, Michelle,” he says. “I was just about to head home.”

“Listen, I just wanted to tell you that you might beat me home this morning, so don’t be worried if you get there and I’m not.”

“Is something wrong?”

“No, not really,” I answer. I’m suddenly aware that Danny is listening intently to my end of the conversation. “I went out of town last night, with… ummm… a friend, and on the way home I got a migraine, so I ummm… I slept at my friend’s house.”

“Michelle, you’re a grown up. You don’t have to make up excuses for staying out. Did you have a date last night?”

“Well, sort of,” I relent. “But really, I did have a migraine.”

“Are you all right now?” he asks.

“Yes, I’m fine this morning. I’ll be home in time to have lunch with you, O.K.?”

“How about a late breakfast?” he asks. “I’ll pick up something at Company on my home.”

“Deal,” I answer, and then I place the phone back on the night stand.

“Was he upset?” Danny asks.

“Of course not,” I answer. “I just didn’t want him to worry.”

“Do you want some juice or something?”

Heavens NO! I just want to get out of here, back to my own home, with my own things, and out of the presence of Danny Santos. I can’t believe I’ve lasted this long without turning to putty in his hands, so I really don’t want to push my luck.

“No thanks,” I say. “I just want to get home.”

A hint of disappointment flutters in his eyes, as I stand up from the bed and head down the stairs to the bathroom where I left my clothes last night.

“I’ll get dressed and be right down,” he calls after me.

I don’t answer him. I just lock myself in the bathroom and sit on the floor, trying to make sense out of what happened here. First he’s flirting with me like there’s no tomorrow; then he’s calling me his “friend”; then he’s taking care of me while I suffer through a migraine; and as if that weren’t enough, he refers to the evening as our “first date”. Could his signals be anymore mixed?

I brush my hair back into a pony tail, and quickly stuff the yellow dress that I wore last night into my gym bag. My mind returns to Danny’s words, when he first saw me in this dress – “Damn, Michelle, you are a vision” – and my heart goes THUD all over again.

“Some vision I am now,” I say to myself as I look in the mirror at my make-up free face, unruly hair. I throw on a pair of tennis shoes from the bag, and emerge from the bathroom.

He’s waiting for me, and we don’t waste any time leaving. Danny insists on driving to Spaulding himself. I try to tell him I’m fine and I’m going to have to drive from Spaulding to my house anyway, but he still won’t let me. I decide not to argue.

When we get to Spaulding, the parking lot is sparsely filled. He pulls my Mitsubishi into a spot next to a black Nissan 300 Z, with tinted windows and a sunroof.

“Yours?” I ask.

“Mine,” he answers.

“Nice.”

“Thanks. Are you sure you’re going to be all right? I could follow you home.”

“I’m fine, Danny,” I say. “And thanks for dinner last night. It was really nice. I’m sorry that my headache had to ruin the evening.”

“You’re welcome for dinner, and your headache didn’t ruin things. I’m just sorry that you had to be in so much pain.”

“I have to go. Rick’s probably waiting for me.”

“Call me later and let me know you’re all right?” he begs.

“Danny, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Promise,” he implores me, as he reaches for my hand.

“O.K., I promise,” I respond, as I gently remove my hand from his and step out of my car.

I don’t even look at him as I get into the driver’s seat and drive away. I can’t bear to. As miserable as it was, staying at his house last night, for some reason, part of me is sad to leave him. I won’t let that part of me take over again, so I simply drive away without looking back.

Over breakfast with Rick, I tell him about Danny, and give him very generic details about our evening. He’s a bit stunned at first, when I say the name “Santos”, but he relaxes a little when I tell him that Danny works for Phillip, and that his family is no longer “active”. Of course, I tell him that Danny and I are just “friends”, and that relaxes him even more. All the while, I’m praying that my emotions aren’t showing on my face.

Rick heads upstairs to sleep, and I head to the shower. I close the shower doors behind me and shut my eyes, willing the hot water to wash away the memories of last night and this morning. Without my consent, my mind remembers the dream I had in the guest bedroom of Danny’s house, and I feel my body temperature begin to rise, knowing that it’s not because of the hot water. I push those images from my mind, literally forcing myself to think about something else. I decide that after my shower, I’ll head to the gym for the 12:00 noon kick-boxing class. I need some physical activity, and while I’m there, I’ll kick the daylights out of an imaginary Danny Santos.

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