Anne's POV
I gasped, my eyes darting around the house, looking for the source of the voice.
Vincent?
But his car wasn't in the driveway.
Did they have a garage or something? His car couldn't still be at the mechanic's, could it?
I walked slowly into the house, a sudden warmth spreading through me. I had assumed I'd be alone until Andrew got back.
He was sitting in the dining area, a partitioned space just off the front door, where, from his seat, you could only see someone once they had fully stepped into the sitting room.
Books were scattered across the table, but he wasn't looking at any of them. His eyes were on my face, a faint confusion visible in his raised brows.
"Anny? I didn't know you were coming today." His voice was deep and slightly rough, like someone who hadn't spoken in a while.
"Hi, doc," I said, trying to sound casual, which was doing absolutely nothing for the warmth spreading to my cheeks. I climbed the two steps up into the dining area and made my way to where he sat.
"How are you doing? It's been a while," he said, tilting his head slightly to look at me.
"I'm doing great! I see you're sharpening those brains, huh?" I said, nodding at the books.
The second the words left my mouth, I cringed. Of all the things I could have said.
He nodded, turning back to his books.
I took that as an opportunity to gawk at him. I stared from the day old stubble on his jaw and neck to his slightly broad back, then slowly moved to his face. That was when I saw it.
Beneath all that composure were stress lines creasing his forehead.
On closer inspection, I could see the faint dark circles under his eyes. I knew those signs. I'd worn them often enough during exam season. Vincent wasn't getting enough sleep.
"Are you okay? You look tired."
He looked up at me with a thoughtful yet suddenly distant expression, like he was re-evaluating something. I suddenly wondered if I had overstepped.
"I'm okay. Just a little stress, that's all," he said, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
"I doubt it's a little stress. It's more like gigantic. You have dark circles the size of a watermelon…" I trailed off, but from his expression, I could tell he’d already gotten the message.
He gave me a lopsided smile.
"Okeydokey. I'll just go watch a movie while I wait for Drew," I said, and scurried off. When I glanced back, he had returned his eyes to his books. I told myself the smile meant nothing and that I had definitely overstayed my welcome in that dining area.
‘I hope I'm not disturbing him. Maybe I should go to Drew's room.’
"Anne?"
I turned, realising I had been standing in the middle of the room.
He must think I'm completely unhinged.
"I was just wondering if I should go to Drew's room instead. I don't want to disturb your reading."
He chuckled. "It's okay, Anne. I can study through a hurricane," he assured me.
I began laughing at that, and then, without any warning whatsoever, released a loud snort.
‘Anne-Marie Scott! It wasn't even that funny.’
Of course, that killed the laugh entirely, and took most of my dignity with it.
He definitely thought I was a nuisance.
I sighed and walked to TV, selected a movie, then sat down on the couch, trying very hard not to replay my humiliation.
For the first thirty minutes, I watched the movie. Or tried to. By the time I gave up pretending, Vincent was deep in something that was clearly not working, flipping through book after book like he was looking for something he couldn't find.
On two occasions when I turned to glance at him, he was tossing a book aside and picking up another to continue his flipping exercise.
I could tell he was frustrated. The sighing that followed every toss was impossible to ignore.
I paused the movie and picked up my phone instead, not wanting to add to whatever was clearly frustrating him.
I was half-convinced he was going to start tearing his clothes and pulling at his hair next.
"Hey?" I found myself calling out.
He looked up from yet another book and stared at me.
‘Go on, Anne. Finish what you started. He'll flip and toss you next.’
"Why don't you take a break… those books are exhausted already," I said, smiling, hoping he got the joke.
He exhaled heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. Surprisingly, he pulled back his chair and stood up.
He stretched his whole body, then walked over slowly, with his hands in the pockets of his track pants, and plopped down next to me, leaving just a small space between us.
He crossed his arms, the movement making his muscles ripple under his shirt. I suddenly found a spot on the ceiling incredibly fascinating, anything to keep myself from gawking.
After two frustrating sighs, he threw his head back against the headrest and clamped his eyes shut.
My eyes lingered on him a little too long while my hand toyed with the idea of touching his arm.
But something was weighing on him, that much was clear, and I was itching to help in whatever small way I could.
"You know, you got me scared for a bit there. I thought you were going to start ripping your clothes and hitting your chest," I said, trying to lighten the mood.
His Adam's apple bobbed as his lips stretched into a smile. I was glad I made him smile at least.
He sighed again, then turned his head slowly on the headrest in my direction. Like someone who just woke up from a deep sleep, he slowly opened his eyes.
I froze.
Vincent was beautiful.
My eyes roamed his face, taking in the slightly sharp edges and contours. His eyes were brown but of a lighter shade, surrounded by thick dark lashes. His nose ran straight without any bump or depression, curving sharply at the tip.
I only had a glimpse of his lips when my mind knocked me off my creepy gawking by reminding me that he was looking directly at me.
'Focus on the issue here, Anne!'
"A cancer patient of mine was in remission, but the cancer came back and it's rapidly sucking the life out of him."
‘Oh no.’
"I'm so sorry," I said, placing a hand on his arm.
I felt it immediately, a small, startling current running from the point of contact straight up my arm.
He lowered his gaze to where I placed my hand, and I almost jerked my hand away, but then he relaxed back into the couch and stared into space.
"I've consulted different books and worked alongside several oncologists, but nothing. I feel like I'm missing something important, and it's frustrating!" he said, throwing his head back against the headrest and shutting his eyes again.
I pressed my hand a little harder against his arm. It was the only thing I had to offer.
I didn't know his patient, nor the treatment that had been tried, and I wasn't in any position to offer anything medical. I was still a student.
He absentmindedly placed his other hand over mine and began drawing slow circles across my knuckles. The contact sent a jolt of electricity shooting straight through me, almost hurling me across the room. I didn't know if he noticed, but my hand tightened on his arm as I worked to stay composed.
"But I'll be fine," he assured, raising his head. When he noticed his wandering hand, he slowly and casually withdrew it.
"So, what are you watching?" he asked, pointing lazily at the paused screen.
"Oh… The Shape of Destiny," I said, hitting play.
We both turned towards the TV at the same time just to see the two main protagonists in the heated kissing scene, with the sensual score playing in the background.
Aw. Kw. Ward.
From the corner of my eye, I could see him staring at the screen blankly. If Andrew was here, he would have covered my eyes or said something ridiculous, and I would have smacked him. Just the thought of it made me laugh.
The sound drew Vincent's attention back to me. He opened his mouth, probably to ask what I found funny, but his phone interrupted him.
I mentally slapped myself. Why would I laugh at a time like this?
‘Anne, come on! You're so insensitive.’
“Sorry,” I mouthed, biting my lower lip.
He shook his head dismissively while pulling his phone out of his pants pocket. It was a video call from someone.
Just as he was about to answer, thunder crackled above the house, followed by a soft pattering on the roof that, within seconds, grew into a full downpour.