Chapter 2

Dammit, he was gorgeous. Even more so than when they last saw each other. Time had certainly done well on him.

Deepan realized he was staring with his mouth open. He cleared his throat.

“Karl?”

Karl Fletcher grinned.

“I was beginning to think you had forgotten me.”

“I…sorry.” Flushing, Deepan reached for the paper towels, wiping down his arms and dropping them into the trash can. “I wasn’t expecting the patient to be you.”

“And I wasn’t expecting you to be my nurse.” Karl’s eyes drifted over Deepan. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah.”

Fifteen years, to be exact. The last day being their high school graduation. Karl had been celebrating with the baseball crowd, and Deepan had gone with his small group of friends to celebrate elsewhere. Next day, he went off on holiday with his family for the last time. By the time he got back, Karl had been drafted to play for the Seattle Mariners and was deep into the season.

Now he stood across the room, looking better than he ever did before. Deepan felt the old arousal stirring again, settling deep in his belly. Swallowing hard, Deepan beckoned Karl over.

“Sit on the bed. I need to check your wounds.”

“It’s not that bad.” Karl protested even as he hoisted himself onto the bed with one hand. “It’s just a scratch.”

Deepan snorted as he put on his gloves.

“If it was just a scratch, you wouldn’t be here.” He approached the bed, aware of his pulse picking up in his throat. “Now, let’s have a look at it.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

Deepan started. Karl was watching him with a smirk. Damn, that smile had the same effect on him as it had done when they were sixteen. Whenever they were in class or when Deepan tutored Karl in algebra or geometry and Karl used that smile, Deepan had almost been on his knees. The man—boy, back then—could have said jump, and Deepan wouldn’t have argued.

A school crush clearly hadn’t gone away even after fifteen years apart.

“You want me to flirt with you? I’m easy.”

Deepan fought back the building desire to grab the man. His cock was starting to wake up at the thought of physically touching Karl for the first time in over a decade, and scrubs wouldn’t be able to hide that. He cleared his throat and scowled.

“One thing I know about you, Karl, is you’re never easy.”

He began to peel the towel off Karl’s arm. His sleeve was saturated with blood. Deepan unbuttoned the sleeve and then picked up the scissors.

“I’m going to need to cut off the sleeve. You okay with that?”

Karl shrugged.

“Never liked this shirt, anyway.” He was watching Deepan with a curious expression. “When did you get back?”

“About six months ago.” Deepan didn’t look up as he began to slice through the cloth at Karl’s shoulder. “A higher-paid job came up here, so who was I to refuse when it was offered?”

“I thought you said when we were kids, you’d never come back once you got out.”

Deepan paused. He hadn’t realized Karl had remembered that. He had more bad memories of high school than good ones, and Deepan had vowed to go elsewhere, start a new life and forgot what he had gone through. Being a gay Muslim had been tough enough, especially when his family found out. Thankfully, they were more accepting of the situation, but there had been a long period of time where Deepan hadn’t spoken to his family at all.

So much for acceptance of your children no matter who they were.

He went back to carefully peeling the sleeve down Karl’s arm. His muscles, tattooed arm. Whoa. Deepan had to resist the urge to lick his lips.

“Sometimes there are moments when you wish you could come home, but not all the time. And this is a good job. Keeps me busy.”

“Happy as well?”

“I wouldn’t call being a nurse a happy job.” Deepan snorted.

He carefully picked the cloth off the wound, dropping the sleeve into a tray. Then he looked more closely at the wound. It was a deep, jagged gash across his forearm, six inches long and half an inch wide. Just one look had Deepan knowing it was going to need stitches.

“You okay with needles?”

Karl shuddered.

“Not really, but if I have to have stitches, I’ll manage.”

Deepan grinned.

“You still not a fan?”

“Never.”

“I’ll be gentle.” Deepan placed the trolley between him and Karl, settling down on a stool on the other side. “Put your arm on the trolley and stay still. It won’t take long if you don’t wriggle.”

Karl grimaced, but he put his arm down. Deepan filled up a syringe, not looking around as he talked. Doing his job was what he could do. Talking to Karl about personal things was something else.