She’s not exactly subtle, is she? Who: Oliver Wood and Verity Ashford What: “Chance” Encounter Number Three Where: Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center When: Friday, November 9 Rating: Low Status: Complete!
Verity felt rather foolish that she didn’t accept Oliver’s invitation to coffee, or tea, or whatever it was he was inviting her to the last time she’d seen him. Verity was supposed to meet up with Lizzy, but her Sister-in-Law had ditched her when she’d seen Verity walk off with Oliver. See, Lizzy thought maybe a little romance would do Verity good, or it would do Oliver good, or both. The plan was only just becoming obvious to Verity, who was a little annoyed that she hadn’t been let in on the plan.
When Verity put two and two together, she called Lizzy to yell at her, but the girls ended up having a serious conversation. Perhaps it was time for Verity to jump back into the dating pool. Things had ended fairly badly with her last boyfriend, but that didn’t mean she was meant to be celibate for the rest of her life. By the end of the conversation, Verity had been convinced that a formal introduction wouldn’t hurt anything. She agreed to meet Lizzy at the hospital after Oliver’s tour on Friday morning.
Then all she had to do was fuss over what to wear.
---
‘I hope you lot are planning on fixing me with a tracking device on Monday, because I’m never going to remember how to get back to my room.’ The hospital was huge. Even with Nurse Adler kindly guiding him, Oliver was feeling a little overwhelmed by the building that would be his home for the next two weeks.
At least he was recognisable; someone was bound to return a lost football star, surely.
“Don’t you worry. We’ll make sure we know where you are at all times,” Lizzy said with a wave of her hand. Her beeper was going off every thirty seconds or so, but this tour took precedent. Her frizzy, blonde hair was curled up on the back of her head, but the fly-aways were causing her grief. So she kept tucking it behind her ears in a distracted way as she glanced up and down the halls.
“So, after your surgery and your first couple of days in Intensive Care, you’ll be transferred to this wing,” She said, motioning to the corridor they’d just stepped into. “Long term care.”
‘Cannea say I like the sound of that,’ he tisked, glancing up and down the corridor with knit brows and a curl to his lips. The unit was pleasant enough; baby blue walls with white trim, though Oliver would have prefered green if given a choice. Colourful artwork by local artists broke up the monotony and in and out of every room was a smiling nurse. Oliver knew the from the hospital brochure that the rooms had large windows and plenty of natural light; a necessity for someone with Oliver’s personality. He was hot headed, naturally, and intense. A clinical sterile environment with fluorescent lights and no view would have driven him mad. And what his insurance did not pay, the team had sprung for. The perks of being an asset.
No, the room and the unit were better than fine. Perfect, as far as hospitals went. It was the phrase long term which set a scowl across Oliver’s usually pleasant face. The doctors had projected at least a week of bedrest before he would be ready to start walking the hallways. Two to three before he was strong enough to leave the hospital; not having any family or friends staying with him had hurt his cause more than he cared to admit. Without assistance, the surgeons had all agreed the hospital was Oliver’s best chance of a quick recovery.
“That’s just what they say about any patient staying with us for more than a couple of days,” Lizzy said, gently. She turned to look at the scowl on Oliver’s otherwise handsome face. “Don’t worry too much about it. Besides, I have a feeling you won’t be here for that long.”
She turned to lead the way down the ward to the end, where the elevators were. “And down to the Cafeteria, the Gift Shop, and Visitor’s Desk.” She added, while they waited. The elevator didn’t take long. With a ‘ding!’ the doors opened and Lizzy lead the way inside. She pressed the button for the ground floor. “Do you have any questions for me?”
Oliver stepped into the elevator after Lizzy; he spent three floors coming up with a question to ask her.
'Who do I need to bribe to keep my bits covered on the table?' His eyes were twinkling again.
Lizzy laughed. Really, a lot of her patients had the same sorts of things on their minds, but they rarely came out and asked so bluntly. It took her a moment to calm herself. “Sorry, I... don’t worry about it. Your bits will be covered, I promise.”
The elevator door opened and they stepped out into the hall. It was a brief walk to the Cafeteria, where a familiar blonde was waiting outside the double doors. Verity was there, fiddling with her cell phone and leaning against the wall.
When Oliver saw her, he tried to hide a smile, but he was far too amused to do so properly. 'What about stalkers? Do your patients get a lot of those?' Oliver asked the nurse. He was clearly being cheeky, speaking loud enough for Verity to hear him.
Seeing her again took his mind immediately off the impending surgery.
Verity could hear the voice. She turned her attention up from her phone to Oliver, cheeks going slightly pink at the sound of the word ‘stalker.’
“Oh, that’s right, you two have met, haven’t you?” Lizzy asked, giving him a little smirk. “Oliver Wood, this is my sister-in-law Verity Ashford.” She motioned between them with her hand at the introduction. Again, Oliver politely inclined his head; shaking hands was clumsy at best.
'Hello again.'
“Hi.” Verity responded with a smile. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Lizzy positively beamed. “Ver, come along. We’re almost finished with the tour. Right over here is the gift shop,” she said, leading the way.
But Oliver didn't follow. Instead, he he stopped Lizzy with, 'I think we can give that a miss.' His expression was a mixture of amusement and irony, his eyes still trained on Verity while his mind, blocks away, attempted to deduce why exactly she intrigued him as she did.
'I know I'm alone out here in California, but I think I'm above buying get well balloons for myself.'
“Ah, I see.” Lizzy turned back to face him, watching him watch Verity for a moment. “Well, if you need, the Visitor’s desk is...” She motioned with her hand, but it seemed as if Oliver and Verity were too busy staring at each other to watch her.
“I’ll be back upstairs in the office...” Lizzy said, trailing off, then she backed away and turned to leave the two of them alone.
Verity was busy watching Oliver curiously. She clicked the button that made her phone sleep and locked the keys, then slipped it into her pocket without looking at it.
Eventually, he spoke. 'Why do I get the feeling Nurse Adler has ulterior motives?' He asked, scratching his bound shoulder beneath the edge of his brace.
“She’s not exactly subtle, is she?” Verity responded, her cheeks going slightly pink. Though she kept her eyes on his face--as distracting as his hand’s movement toward the brace may be.
Oliver scratched for a few more seconds, then let his arm fall back by his side.
'No, not really. Curious though,' he said, brow slightly knit as he formed his thoughts. When he spoke again, his tenor was once again padded with harmless flirtation. 'I seem to recall being turned down for coffee..?'
"Right," Verity said, brow furrowing in mock confusion. "That's right. You did get turned down for coffee. Does that happen often to you, or...?" She was teasing, with a grin on her face now.
Oliver matched her smile with his own, chuckling. He liked the tenor of her cheek.
‘No, not really!’ the chuckle became a full fledged laugh, cutting clear and crisp through the dull drone of the cafeteria. ‘You might be the first.’
“Well, that makes me feel special.” Verity grinned in a cheeky way, and slipped her hands into her back pockets. “Though, I doubt it’ll happen again. I can’t let Lizzy down.”
‘That’s assuming you get a second chance,’ Oliver chimed. He found bantering with Verity over the past week to be the closest thing in America to chatting with his mates back in Glasgow. More insult than conversation, wit over propriety, honesty over bullshit. And that was comforting to Oliver, especially after days of conversing with surgeons who padded the truth to avoid potential lawsuits. ‘Why would I set myself up for failure?’
“Hmm,” Verity said, tapping her index finger against her lip in a mock thoughtful way. “You make a good point. You wouldn’t want to put yourself out there again without some sort of promise that things will go your way,” she teased.
“All right, what if I can guarantee that you won’t be turned down this time?”
Oliver squinted his eyes, peering at her sideways.
‘Could be tempted. But my ego is very fragile. It would have to be quite the guarantee.’
Verity raised an eyebrow. “Give me an ex
‘You could answer a few questions for me.’
“I can do that,” she responded, letting the smile come back to her features. “Out here in the hallway?”
‘Here’s fine. How old are you?’ he asked quickly, suppressing a smirk.
“Twenty-four.” Verity said, folding her arms gently across her stomach. “That was an easy one.”
‘How many siblings do you have?’
“One. Chace. Lizzy’s husband.”
‘What’s your favorite colour?’
“Orange.” She grinned. “I know, it’s a weird favorite.”
Oliver smiled. ‘Mine’s green. Next question. Why did you turn me down for coffee?’
“Why do you think I turned you down for coffee?”
‘Ack!’ Oliver broke, chuckling and shaking his head. ‘Wrong answer. Sorry, love. Looks like you’re buying your own coffee today.’
Verity gave a little, playful gasp. “What? No, that’s not fair.” She said, shaking her head. “Gimme another chance.”
‘You could give me your number,’ he said without hesitation. Whether or not Oliver would use the number ever was another story entirely. But the game was to get the number. If he could do that, he could decide later what to do with it. That was the fun of shameless flirtation.
Verity laughed. “You’re going to ask for my number, but you won’t ask to buy me a coffee?” She said, then shook her head and closed the gap between them. She pulled a pen from her purse and reached for his good hand to write her number on his palm.
Oliver spread his fingers to tighten the skin across his palm and watched in triumph as she wrote out her number.
When she was finished, he studied the number in case it accidentally washed off before responding to Verity. ‘Coffee costs money. A phone number is free. Besides, now I can call and invite you to coffee properly.’
“Now I have to wait for a phone call?” Verity asked, clicking the pen top and slipping it into her purse.
‘Of course,’ Oliver replied, dropping his hand when the ink had dried. ‘Can’t just ask you now. What would you have to look forward to?’
“Well... you could look forward to dinner instead of coffee.” She said, giving him a little smirk. She had a point.
‘True,’ Oliver conceded, his cheeks flushing and his smile growing wider. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his mouth closed as they talked. Verity had such spunk. ‘But in case you’ve forgotten, I go into surgery soon. Won’t be eating much for a while and when I do, I’m not sure it’s the sort of food you want to volunteer to eat.’
"Mmm. That does pose a problem," Verity said with that same mock thoughtful tone. "I can think of only one solution," she added. "You'll just have to invite me out before your surgery."
Grimacing, Oliver shook his head. He was less jovial in that moment, but whether it was due to Verity or the impending surgery was difficult to tell on the surface. ‘Canne do that. Only one dinner left and it’s spoken for. But I have your number now,’ he added, holding up his hand as exhibit A. ‘We’ll do coffee. Promise.’
Verity looked a little disappointed, and she couldn’t deny she was curious as to who he was having his last dinner with. But she didn’t press. She gave him an award winning smile and nodded. “We’ll do coffee. Call me.”