8

Doctor Rhys leans backwards in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest, her white coat bunching around her arms. Her grey eyes are on mine, staring intently. "Well, I got the profile of a male and an incomplete profile of another individual. It could be possible that it belongs to Joseline Madeline. But, I couldn't identify whether the DNA sample belongs to a female."

Art stares at me for the first time since the day began, caught up in the excitement of Doctor Rhys's information. Then, she realizes what she's doing. She looks away, looking embarrassed.

Art tucks her hair behind her ear, hand hovering awkwardly somewhere behind her ear and the nape of her neck. "Um...we'll need a copy of that file. Please."

"Of course."

•••

"Do you think the other DNA profile belongs to Joseline?" I ask in the car, on the way to the cabin.

Art doesn't say anything for a moment like she's processing what I said. She runs a hand through her golden brown tresses. "I don't like why she was looking at you."

I frown. "Who? Doctor Rhys? Don't be stupid. She's like...a doctor!"

"That doesn't change the fact that she was totally checking you out!"

"What does she even matter? We are supposed to be focusing on the case. Remember? The case that we are so close to solving!"

"Yeah," Art growls. "Because that's all you ever think about!"

"What does that even mean?" I argue. "What else am I supposed to think about? It's my job!"

"Me!" she yells incredulously. "You're supposed to think about me!"

"What?"

She pauses almost as if she's trying to catch her breath. Like she's trying to reel her anger back in. "I just... I feel like you don't care about me."

"I...don't know what to say..."

"That's the problem," she insists. "You don't make an effort. You just...ignore me."

I touch her arm. "Art—"

She flinches, pulling away from me. I can tell that she's sufficiently upset with me. "Don't 'Art' me," she yells. Her voice is hoarse, hurt. Like she's about to cry. "I don't get it. Don't you love me?"

"I do—"

"Then act like it!"

"What do you want me to do?" I ask, feeling like a fish out of water. I've never been in a relationship before. I've never been in love before.

"I want you to love me the way I love you."

I run my hands through my hair, pulling at the stands. It hurts, but, oddly, it calms my anxiety. "Art, I don't think we should speak about this while you're driving."

"You're trying to change the subject," she insists.

My chest tightens. Suddenly, things don't feel so light-hearted anymore. It doesn't seem like she was just pouring her heart out to me anymore. Instead, it felt like she wanted me to be with her. I wasn't so sure about that, though. I stuck in a breath, grabbing my chest. It hurt. I grab her shoulder. "Art, I can't...breath!"

•••

I wake up in the hospital, dressed in a papery gown, my chest feeling heavy. Not remembering anything. I sit up, grabbing my chest. I could breathe, but my chest was tightening up again. "Where am I?"

Art is there, brushing my damp hair out of my face. "It's okay. I just...you had a panic attack. So, I took you to the hospital. I didn't know what else to do. Just...calm down. Please."

I stare at her, incredulously, struggling to catch my breath. I inhale sharply. "Take me home."

"I can't," she says. "I mean, you have to wait for the doctors to discharge you."

"I don't want to be here," I growl. "Why aren't you listening to me?"

"Good afternoon, Miss Lorde. I'm Doctor Michaels," a doctor says, walking into the room. He's holding a clipboard to his chest, watching me carefully like I'm rabid or something. "How are you feeling?"

"Anxious," I gasp. "Like I'm going to die!"

"I have prescribed some medication for your panic attacks," Doctor Micheals says, nodding. "If anything like this happens again, please contact me."

Art takes Doctor Micheals's business card for me. "Of course."

"Now, you're required to stay in the hospital overnight for supervision," the doctor says. "Afterward, you're free to go."

"But—"

•••

"Has this happened to you before?" Art asks. It's midnight and I couldn't sleep. She's laying beside me on my bed. Oddly, it feels calming having her close to me.

I shake my head. "No," I say quietly, "I just... You wouldn't stop talking about it and I just... I lost it—I guess."

"I'm sorry," she says. "I didn't mean to be...overbearing."

I stare at her, really looking at her. She's pretty beautiful. Anyone would be stupid to refuse her. What, with her crazy topaz eyes and her honey-auburn hair? But, I don't know.

"I'm sorry, too," I say. "I just... I don't think I'm ready for a relationship. I just want to focus on the case."

She nods, tucking my hair behind my ear. "Okay," she says, smiling tightly. I know that's not what she wants to hear.

Her face hovers gently over mine, searching my eyes. Her eyes trained on my lips. Her face is illuminated by the dull glow of the moon. She rubs her nose against mine. "Can I kiss you?"