Chapter Thirty Nine

Saturday;

I finally found some time to volunteer at the hospital again. After helping Nurse Riley distribute lunch to the patients, I was relaxing in Elizabeth's room. She was eating her meal, and I sat on the worn couch, my legs curled up beneath me, engrossed in a book. The steady beeping of the machines and the quiet hum of the hospital seemed to fade into the background.

A soft knock interrupted the peaceful moment. Both Elizabeth and I turned our heads toward the door, where Prof. Vargas stood, leaning against the doorframe with a gentle smile on her face.

"Valentina, so good to see you," she said, her voice warm as her eyes flickered to mine.

"Hey," I greeted her back with a small wave, trying to shake off the surprise at seeing her here. Vargas stepped into the room, her presence calm as she crossed over to Elizabeth and wrapped her in a brief hug.

"Elizabeth," she sighed, her voice soft but serious, "I need to talk to you."

That was my cue to leave. I closed my book and stood up from the couch, smoothing my shirt as I glanced at Elizabeth. "I'll come back later, okay?" I smiled, giving her a reassuring look before turning to Vargas with a quick nod. "See you, Professor."

Without waiting for a response, I quietly slipped out of the room, leaving them to their conversation, the door softly clicking shut behind me.

I made my way over to the nurses' lounge, debating whether to chill for a bit or see if they had any tasks I could help with. As I passed by a patient's room, a nurse stepped out, stopping me in my tracks.

"Valentina, could you help me with a patient?" she asked, her voice a little strained.

"Of course," I replied with a smile, stepping in to assist. We helped the patient to the bathroom, and while we were busy, Dr. Bryson popped his head into the room.

"Valentina, when you're done, could you spare me a minute?" he asked, his tone polite but firm. I gave him a quick nod, "Sure, just give me a sec."

After settling the patient back into bed, I made my way into the hallway, spotting Dr. Bryson leaning casually against the wall, his hands in his pockets. As I approached, he straightened up, offering a smile that didn't quite mask the nerves in his eyes.

"How are you?" he asked, his voice light but with an underlying seriousness.

"Always good," I returned the smile, curiosity growing. "What's up?"

Dr. Bryson shifted slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll get straight to the point." He exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. "I really like your Aunt, and I was wondering... would it be okay with you if I asked her to be my girlfriend?"

I blinked, caught completely off guard. Is he seriously asking me for permission to date my Aunt? I furrowed my brows, trying to process.

"You're both adults," I said with a slight chuckle. "You don't need my permission."

Dr. Bryson smiled, though it was clear he wasn't quite reassured yet. "I know, but your Aunt never stops talking about you. She's always saying how she just wants the best for you." He paused for a moment, his expression softening. "Grace told me she would never date anyone if it made you unhappy or uncomfortable. I just wanted to make sure..."

I felt a lump form in my throat, the urge to cry overwhelming me for a moment, but I quickly pushed it down. My Aunt was willing to sacrifice her own happiness for mine? That thought tugged at my heart. I had told her a long time ago that it was time she focused on herself, found her own happiness.

Smiling at Dr. Bryson, I gave him a nod, "I think you're good for her. So, my answer is yes."

His face lit up with a wide grin. "Thank you!" He nodded gratefully before turning on his heel and walking away, clearly eager to make his next move. I shook my head with a smile, feeling lighter as I continued on my way to the nurses' lounge.

As I rounded a corner, I suddenly collided with someone, the impact sending me off balance. I was sure I was about to hit the floor, but a strong hand gripped my elbow, steadying me.

"Oh, I am so sorry!" I exclaimed, glancing up at the person who had caught me. It was Montgomery, her sharp gaze fixed on me, one hand still gripping my elbow.

"You've got a knack for running into things. Mainly me," she said with a soft chuckle, finally letting go of me.

I cleared my throat, trying to shake off the embarrassment. "Yeah, sorry about that." I quickly changed the subject, "Are you here to see your mother?"

Her eyebrow arched slightly, and she shook her head. "No," she said, her voice calm but with that ever-present edge, "I'm here to perform surgery."

I should've seen that coming. Of course she was here for her mother. I rolled my eyes playfully, but when I glanced back at her, her expression had darkened. Montgomery stepped closer, her voice a dangerous whisper. "Ms. Wilson," she murmured, her breath brushing against my skin, "if we were in my office right now, I would've bent you over my desk and punished you for rolling your eyes at me."

My breath hitched, my heart racing wildly in my chest at her words. The tension between us felt suffocating, but I quickly pulled myself together, pushing back the rush of heat crawling up my neck. "I'm pretty sure your mother and Vargas are waiting for you," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

Montgomery straightened abruptly, her eyes narrowing. "Carol is here?" she asked, her voice sharp. I nodded. Without another word, she brushed past me, striding toward her mother's room, her usual air of dominance reasserting itself.

I watched her go, her figure disappearing around the corner, and the moment she was gone, I exhaled slowly, releasing the tension I hadn't realized I was holding. Shaking my head, I continued my way to the nurses' lounge. Once inside, I settled onto the couch, opening my book and letting its familiar words pull me away from the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me.

Time slipped away as I sat on the worn leather couch, lost in my book for what must have been two hours. The soft hum of the hospital blended into the background, barely noticeable until my phone buzzed against my lap, pulling me back to reality. Glancing down, I saw a message from Octavia:

'Hey! Are you busy?'

A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips. Busy? Not really. I quickly typed back, 'Nope, just reading a book.'

I set my phone down and got up to grab a cold bottle of water from the fridge. Just as I twisted the cap off, my phone buzzed again. Another message from her:

'Want to go get some ice cream?'

I chuckled to myself, texting her back with a grin: 'Sure, but you'll have to pick me up at the hospital.' I'd driven here with my Aunt, so I couldn't exactly just leave on my own.

Settling back onto the couch, I returned to my book, letting the quiet rhythm of the hospital lull me again. It wasn't long before my phone lit up with another message.

'I'm in the parking lot.'

Closing my book, I stood and grabbed my bag, casting one last glance around the lounge before making my way toward the hospital exit.

As I approached the hospital doors, the familiar sound of footsteps falling into sync with mine made me glance to the side. Montgomery had appeared beside me, her expression unreadable. I shifted my gaze back ahead, my voice casual, "You done visiting your mother?"

She nodded, her movements stiff. "Yeah. You done volunteering?" Her eyes flicked toward me, curious but cautious.

I nodded, stopping just outside the hospital as I scanned the parking lot for Octavia's car. Before I could spot her, she popped out from behind a sleek sedan, waving excitedly. "I'm here!" Her grin was contagious, and I waved back.

Beside me, I felt Montgomery tense, her body shifting closer. Her voice dropped to a low murmur, "Ms. Wilson," she said, and I turned to meet her gaze.

Her eyes were intense, searching mine for something. "Don't pretend you're not thinking about me when you're with her," she murmured, her voice laced with a quiet possessiveness. "I can see it in your eyes."

I furrowed my brows, crossing my arms over my chest in defiance. "I think you need better glasses," I shot back, motioning to the pair perched on her face. "Yours don't seem to be working."

Without waiting for her to respond, I spun on my heel and strode toward Octavia, leaving Montgomery standing there, her lips pressed into a thin, frustrated line.

I stopped beside Octavia, and she instantly wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a big, warm hug. Her energy was infectious. "You ready for some ice cream?" she asked, her voice brimming with excitement. I nodded, and she clapped her hands in delight, motioning for me to hop into her car.

The drive was short, about five minutes before she found a spot to park along the curb. The soft hum of the engine faded as she turned off the car. A little farther down the road, an ice cream truck sat under a large tree, with a small group of people gathered around it, waiting for their orders.

We got out of the car, the breeze carrying the faint scent of sweet waffle cones toward us. As we joined the back of the line, Octavia turned to me, her eyes playful. "So, what flavor are you getting?" she asked, her smile bright under the afternoon sun.

I scanned the truck's menu, feeling the familiar pull of indecision. The choices seemed endless—everything from chocolate fudge to caramel swirl—but in the end, I couldn't resist sticking to my favorite. "Vanilla," I shrugged with a small smile. "What about you?"

She scrunched her nose, thinking hard before a grin spread across her face. "Strawberry cheesecake," she said confidently.

I raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Interesting choice," I nodded. "As long as it's not Mint Chocolate Chip." I shuddered at the thought.

Octavia laughed, shaking her head. "Mint Chocolate Chip? Ugh, no thanks. Who even eats that stuff?"

I chuckled, glad we were on the same page. As the line moved forward, the scent of fresh ice cream wafted toward us.

After we ordered, I insisted on paying since Octavia had been kind enough to drive. With our cones in hand, we found a spot on the curb and settled down, the late afternoon sun casting a golden hue on the street. I took a lick of my vanilla ice cream, savoring the familiar, sweet taste.

Octavia glanced at me between bites of her strawberry cheesecake cone, her curiosity piqued. "So, why were you at the hospital earlier?" she asked.

I paused, glancing down at my cone before responding. "I volunteer there," I said simply, taking another lick.

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Damn! That's really impressive," she smiled, admiration clear in her voice. "How do you manage to volunteer as a third-year student? You must be swamped with work."

I shrugged, twirling the cone in my hand as I thought. "Lately, I haven't had much free time, but when I do, I try to spend it at the hospital. It helps me clear my head, I guess." The soft breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees, adding to the peacefulness of the moment.

Octavia smiled warmly, clearly impressed, and we fell into an easy conversation. We talked about everything from school stress to random stories, our voices blending with the quiet hum of the street around us. By the time we finished our ice cream, the sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting longer shadows.

We stood up and walked back to her car, our laughter lingering in the air as we made our way down the road. Once we reached the hospital, Octavia parked, and I turned to her with a grateful smile. "Thanks for the ice cream," I said, giving her a small wave as I opened the car door.

"Anytime," she smiled back. "Let's do it again soon."

I nodded, stepping out and watching as she drove away before heading back inside the hospital, ready to continue with whatever assignment would be thrown my way.

✿

Monday;

I sat next to Lea by the fountain, the sound of water splashing softly behind us. We had just wrapped up our lecture with Montgomery, and the weight of it still lingered in the air between us. Lea, with her cigarette perched between her fingers, stared off into the distance, lost in thought. Wisps of smoke curled around her, mingling with the gentle breeze. Meanwhile, I was distracted, my phone buzzing in my lap as I texted back and forth with Octavia.

Lea glanced at her watch, exhaling slowly before she stubbed out her cigarette against the edge of the bench. "I gotta go," she muttered, standing up and slinging her bag over her shoulder. The usual casualness in her tone felt a little rushed today.

I nodded, offering a small wave as she walked away, her figure growing smaller as she headed toward the parking lot. The campus felt quieter without her beside me, the fading sound of her footsteps leaving an odd sense of emptiness.

I sighed, slipping my phone back into my pocket as I rose from the bench. The fountain's splashing water echoed faintly behind me, but it wasn't enough to shake off the growing restlessness. I knew where I was supposed to be anyway—Montgomery's office. There wasn't much else to do, and even though part of me hesitated, I couldn't avoid it forever.

With a resigned shrug, I made my way across campus, the familiar path to Montgomery's office etched into my mind like a well-worn trail.

I knocked softly on Montgomery's office door before stepping inside, closing it quietly behind me. The air in the room felt a little too still. My eyes immediately landed on her, seated at her desk, her attention buried in a book. She didn't look up, and I just started making my way toward the chair I usually sat in—until something stopped me dead in my tracks.

The old, worn chair was gone, replaced with a brand-new one, sleek and noticeably more comfortable. The cushions caught my eye, and I blinked in surprise. They were in my favorite color.

"You actually bought me a new chair?" I asked, my voice tinged with disbelief. I inspected the chair more closely, running my fingers over the soft material. "And the cushions are my favorite color!" I couldn't help but gasp, an unexpected warmth rising in my chest.

Montgomery finally looked up from her book, her sharp eyes flicking to the chair for a brief moment before settling back on me. Her expression didn't change, a slight frown pulling at the edges of her lips. "I can't believe you remembered," I added, chuckling as I sank into the chair. It was even more comfortable than it looked. "Thank you."

Her lips pressed into a thin, tight line, and she narrowed her eyes. "Oh, please," she muttered, a hint of irritation slipping into her voice. "You mentioned it once. It doesn't mean I care." She returned her attention to her book, almost as if she was dismissing me. "It's just hard to forget stupid details sometimes."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and sank deeper into the chair, making myself more comfortable. "Usually, when someone says 'thank you,' the polite response is 'no problem' or 'my pleasure,'" I scoffed, narrowing my eyes at her. "Has no one ever said it to you, or...?"

Montgomery leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other, a slow, deliberate movement. She smirked, the corner of her lips curling slightly. "You seriously get on my nerves," she said, her voice low but laced with amusement. "It's... frustratingly impressive."

I shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, much like Lady Gaga, I was born this way."

Her soft chuckle filled the room, and I watched as she absentmindedly pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, momentarily dropping the sharpness in her expression. The moment passed quickly, and her composure returned as she slid a stack of papers toward me. "I need you to mark these quizzes," she said, her tone more controlled, as if calming herself down.

I eyed the quizzes, then glanced back at her, hopeful. "Is it okay if I work on an assignment instead?" I asked, keeping my voice light but hopeful.

She didn't answer right away. There was a pause, a beat of silence as she seemed to weigh her response. Then, without even looking at me, her eyes already returning to her book, she said, "No." The word was simple, flat, and final.

"Bitch," I muttered under my breath, thinking it was low enough that she'd miss it. But no such luck. Her head snapped up, eyes sharp and narrowed. "What did you just say?" she demanded, her voice cutting through the room.

Uh-oh. "Nothing," I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant as I kept my focus on the quizzes in front of me, praying she'd let it slide.

But Montgomery was far from done. She stood up from her desk, her movements deliberate and controlled as she strode over to me. In one swift motion, she swiveled my chair, forcing me to face her. Her hand gripped my chin, tilting my head back so I had no choice but to meet her cold, calculating gaze. "What did you say?" she asked again, her voice low and dangerous.

I swallowed, feeling my heart race, but I wasn't about to back down. "I said, you are a bitch," I repeated, more clearly this time, refusing to break eye contact.

Her grip on my chin tightened, but only for a moment before she let go, her expression a mix of frustration and restraint. "Nope," she muttered under her breath, almost to herself, sighing as though fighting against her own impulses. "I'm trying to be a better person."

"Yeah, well, you should try harder," I shot back, rolling my eyes with a scoff.

Before I could register what was happening, she grabbed the collar of my shirt and yanked me to my feet, her strength catching me off guard. Her fingers found their way into my hair, pulling me forward until I was bent over her desk, her body pressing firmly against mine from behind. The warmth of her breath on my neck sent a shiver down my spine as her grip in my hair remained unyielding, her voice a low growl in my ear.

"You're making it extremely difficult for me to be nice." Her voice dripped with frustration, each word sending a wave of heat through me.

Her grip on my hair remained firm, pulling my head back so I had no choice but to stay locked in that position. My heart pounded in my chest, my pulse racing as her free hand trailed up my leg.

Starting at my inner knee, her fingers traced a slow, deliberate path up my inner thigh. The warmth of her touch seeped through the fabric of my skirt, and I shuddered involuntarily. Every inch she moved felt like a test of my self-control.

By the time her hand reached my ass and rested there, my breath hitched, tension coiling tight inside me. The room felt smaller, the air charged. But before I could process what was happening, a sudden knock at the door shattered the moment.

Montgomery's reaction was swift. She yanked me up by my hair, her face just inches from mine, eyes burning with an intensity that sent another jolt through me. "Behave," she whispered, her voice low and commanding, before releasing me with a quick shove, forcing me back into the chair as though nothing had happened.

Just then, the door swung open, and Victoria peeked in with a light chuckle, "Ah, there you are!" Her eyes sparkled with amusement as Montgomery leaned back slightly, offering a casual shrug. "Yeah, sorry about that," she said with a tight smile, "I had to deal with... something." Her eyes flicked briefly in my direction, and I shifted uncomfortably in the chair, feeling the heat rush to my face.

Victoria's gaze followed, landing squarely on me, her brow arching in mild curiosity. A knowing smirk tugged at her lips, but she didn't comment. Instead, she turned back to Montgomery, as if she hadn't seen anything. "Anyway, care for a walk?" She nodded toward the door, the invitation clear.

Montgomery's eyes lingered on me for a second longer, her expression unreadable, before she motioned toward her desk. Papers were scattered in disarray from our earlier encounter. "I need those quizzes marked," she said with a deliberate tone, almost as if the mess had been my doing. Without waiting for my response, she strode toward the door, falling in step with Victoria.

As they left, I caught the faint tail-end of Victoria's voice, her words dripping with intrigue. "Is that the one you told—" Her sentence was cut short as they moved out of earshot, leaving me sitting alone in the office, my mind swirling with questions and my heart still racing from what had just happened.

Sighing, I spun the chair back to face her desk, trying to shake off the tension that still hung in the air. I started organizing the scattered papers, stacking them neatly on my side. The act of tidying gave me a brief sense of control, but it didn't ease the turmoil in my head.

As I picked up the first quiz, my eyes glazed over the words, but my thoughts kept drifting. This whole weekend, I couldn't stop thinking about quitting this TA job. Sure, the extra credits are great, but it's all getting to be too much. Montgomery is too much.

Her constant back-and-forth—being cold one moment, intense the next—was driving me insane. And how she bent me over her desk earlier... Normally, that kind of tension wouldn't bother me, but knowing she has a girlfriend makes it so uncomfortable. I can't shake the feeling of wrongness, like I'm stuck in something I shouldn't be.

Doesn't she feel any shame? My aunt would lecture me for hours if she thought I was doing something like this—letting someone get so close when they're supposed to be committed to someone else.

Who am I kidding, though? I'm not going to quit. That's just not me. As they say, "Rehab is for quitters," right? Sure, I'm not addicted to anything, but walking away now would feel like giving up.

I'll push through, take her rude remarks, and deal with her unpredictable moods. For better or worse, I'm in this, and I'm seeing it through to the end, no matter how much it messes with my head.