5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

I can do this . . . I think.

I'm standing outside the Coffee Loft, trying to convince myself that I can meet with Joel for our second tutoring session without getting rattled. I can remain professional, calm, and in control of the situation. It doesn't matter how badly I embarrassed myself when I infiltrated the intercollegiate gym a few days ago. And it doesn't matter that I momentarily—foolishly—believed Joel really wanted to hang out with me. All that matters is helping him excel in his chemistry class.

I glance down, making sure my pea coat, white sweater, and jeans aren't too wrinkled after a long day seated in lecture halls on campus. I then put my attention back on the Coffee Loft's door. I pull in a breath, about to enter the shop, when I hear:

"Good afternoon, Danielle."

The sound of his voice sends my heart racing. I hastily remind myself to maintain a businesslike aura, and I turn around.

Heavens.

Joel is being backlit by the low-hanging sun as he approaches, so he basically looks like some sort of autumn deity. He's wearing a jacket over his button-up shirt, jeans, and sneakers. His hair is combed, and he's cleanly shaven.

I exhale softly. Chemistry. We're here to talk about chemistry.

"Hi, Joel," I reply.

He opens the door for me. I slip by him and go inside, catching a hint of his cologne as I do so. The mixture of cedar, sandalwood, and citrus triggers goosebumps of delight to scatter up my arms, but I coach myself to ignore them.

Joel enters after me and comes to my side. "I'll order drinks and meet you at the back table."

"You bought drinks last time," I remind him. "It's my turn."

"It would have been your turn, but I challenged you to a game of HORSE that we weren't able to finish, remember?" Joel smiles handsomely. "So I'm pretty sure the rules state that I must buy you a drink."

"Is that so?" I smile playfully in response. "In that case, I'll go grab the table. Thank you."

Joel heads toward the counter, and I walk to the back of the shop to claim our little, hidden-away table. It's not really our table, though, of course. It's not like this is a special place for the two of us. Because there's nothing special between Joel and me. I'm his tutor, and we meet here to study. Nothing more.

I remove my jacket and sit down. Joel soon arrives with a drink in each hand. He places one of the huge cups in front of me, and I happily inhale the delicious scents of apple cider and cinnamon. He takes the chair on the other side of the table, sets down his own beverage, and pulls his laptop from his bag. I lower my eyes to my cup and blow on the cider to cool it. I then raise my eyes back to Joel while asking:

"So what did you discuss in . . ."

I fall quiet. Very quiet.

Joel has put on a pair of glasses.

Glasses .

Rimless, circular glasses that make him look hot, nerdy, brilliant, sophisticated, and manly all at the same time.

I nearly drop my cup. How am I not supposed to get distracted by this ?

Joel glances up from his laptop, doing a double take when he sees me gaping at him. "Is everything all right?"

"Hmm? I mean, yes." I resist the urge to use my hand to fan air past my face. "I was just wondering what you covered in lecture today."

Joel motions to the online syllabus that he brought up on his monitor. "It sounds like they tackled some complicated redox reactions."

" It sounds like ?" I echo. "Does that mean you weren't in class?"

I make sure not to show any judgment. It's not uncommon for someone I'm tutoring to miss class. However, knowing this does help me better tailor my teaching for the session.

"That's correct. I wasn't in class." Joel sits back in his chair. "I was busy with a project that I've been working on for a while. Occasionally, the project overlaps with class time."

He shifts his attention back to his laptop without explaining more. As he does so, however, the left side of his unzipped jacket opens farther, revealing that he has a sticker on his shirt above the left breast pocket. I recognize the sticker immediately; it's the sticker that all visitors to University Hospital are required to wear when on the premises. I get one from the front desk every time I'm at the facility to shadow a physician.

"You were at the hospital," I say quietly.

Joel's eyes spring to mine. I motion to his shirt. He glances down and calmly, though quickly, peels the sticker from his shirt and drops it into his bag.

"I go to University Hospital a few times a month to shadow physicians," I add gently. "I hope the reason you were there today wasn't too difficult and that all is well."

I return my attention to the syllabus, ready to steer the discussion back to chemistry, but I hear Joel state:

"I was visiting the pediatric inpatient floor."

I gasp softly and look at him again. "Oh, goodness, I'm so sorry."

"Please don't be sorry. I was there for a positive reason. The inpatient case managers call me whenever they learn that a pediatric patient is a fan of mine, and when I get those calls, I visit the child as soon as I can. I don't tell many people that I do these visits, however, so I would prefer it if you would keep this information between us."

I stare. For a long time.

This handsome, smart, funny, athletic man―a man who's already swamped with the demands of his rigorous academic and athletic schedules―makes time to visit children in the hospital.

Joel can't be real. He cannot possibly be real.

"It's wonderful of you to do that," I state.

"It's no big deal, but if my visits make those kids' days a tiny bit better, it's worth it." Joel gazes past me and out the window. "One of my younger sisters was in-and-out of the hospital a lot while we were growing up, and there were always people going out of their ways to make her experiences less scary. Observing those great people made an impression on me, and I try to repay the favor now." He looks at me again and shows a more amused smile. "Frankly, I think the kids are less excited about meeting me than they are about receiving the presents I bring them. I usually bring a junior-sized jersey, a stuffed animal, a mini basketball or volleyball, or something else from the sports section of the university's student store. The gifts are always a huge hit."

I'm listening and nodding with polite interest. However, on the inside, every ounce of me is pulsating with a wild yearning to grab Joel by the shirt, tug him across the table toward me, and plant a kiss on his lips.

I nearly gasp aloud.

I want to kiss Joel.

I really want to kiss him.

This isn't good.

"Anyway," Joel goes on, "the reason I don't tell people about my visits to the hospital is because I don't want my time there to be turned into a media circus. That's not what it's about."

"I understand," I tell him. "I won't say a word."

"Thanks. Those kids, and their families, deserve all the positive moments they can get." He resumes watching out the window. "That's why it's infuriating that the hospital is shutting down its pediatric outdoor play area."

"What?" My jaw drops. "The hospital is shutting down the outdoor play area that's designated for peds patients and their families?"

"Yep." Joel shakes his head with unmasked disgust. "I learned about it today from a case manager. Apparently, the hospital quietly came to the decision last week, citing budget cuts as the reason. The hospital is actually trying to claim there isn't money to fund the relatively few employees who are needed to maintain and supervise the play area, yet the hospital is spending millions of dollars everywhere else." He returns his focus to me. "I spent a lot of time in that play area with my sister. I know how important it is to kids and their families. It shouldn't be shut down."

"I completely agree." I sense my stomach sinking with dismay. "Shutting it down is a huge mistake."

Joel is quiet for several seconds. He then clears his throat and gestures to his laptop. "Hey, I'm sorry to have sidetracked our tutoring session. You were asking about what was discussed during lecture today, and―"

"How averse are you, exactly, to making your visits to the hospital known?" I ask before I can stop myself.

Joel arches an eyebrow. "What?"

I'm not sure what has suddenly come over me, but my brain is spinning with an idea that I can't suppress. I fix a more intense gaze on Joel and repeat:

"How averse are you to making your visits to the hospital publically known?"

"I'm very averse to publicizing my visits. As I said, the last thing I want to do is turn my visits into PR events." Joel squints with concentration as he observes me. "Why do you ask?"

"I ask because I'm thinking we could use your popularity to put public pressure on the hospital to reconsider its decision to shut down the pediatric play area."

Joel falls still. He then slowly sits back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. "You said that we could make the hospital reconsider. You didn't refer only to me. You said we , as in the two of us."

I blink a few times. I did say we . Why did I say we ?

What is happening? Since when have I ever dared to pull my nose out of my books and do something bold or controversial? Never. I've never done anything to stir the pot in my life. I've always stayed the course, done what was expected of me, and made sure not to rock the boat. Heck, when I was little, I never even colored outside of the lines, and I definitely never ran with scissors.

Now, though, I find myself wondering: why have I been such a rule-follower? I respect and appreciate rules, of course, but I don't obey mindlessly or blindly either. There've been times when I've wanted to stop and analyze―and possibly question―some of the expectations I abided by, yet I never did. I never did because it's not in my nature to upset the status quo. Plus, as someone who's dreaming of going to med school, I've known for years that it's best to toe the line and not generate a reason for anyone to discard my future med school application. That's why, even to this day, I stay in my lane, literally and figuratively. I achieve perfect grades. I meet every requirement. I do all that I can to impress each professor and mentor in order to prove that I have what it takes to become a responsible, brilliant, caring clinician.

In other words, throughout my entire twenty-two years of existence, all I've done is avoid doing anything brash or bold or wrong or exciting.

Have I been mistaken to play it safe? Or have I been wise and responsible not to blow my chances of accomplishing my life-long dream of getting into med school?

I don't know. One thing I do know, though, is that there's a beautiful outdoor play area on the University Hospital grounds that's an oasis of peace and a source of joy for pediatric patients and their loved ones. And I know it's wrong for that play area to be shut down.

However, I also know that the last thing I should do is get involved in something potentially controversial―especially if that something calls out a highly respected hospital. I'm about to start interviewing for med school, and doing something that might get me labeled as insubordinate could obliterate my chances of getting accepted anywhere. Not to mention, University Hospital is where I hope to do my OBGYN residency one day. In other words, it would be insane of me to publically clash with the top brass at the facility. I would potentially throw away everything I've worked for.

Yet something needs to be done.

"Yes, I did say we. " I'm nearly breathless as I speak. "I have an idea, but it needs your celebrity status to implement."

Joel snorts a laugh. "I'm no celebrity."

"This isn't the time to be modest." I smile at him. "Considering kids at the hospital are regularly requesting to meet you―and considering you chose to come to this remote area of the Lakewood region for your tutoring sessions specifically to avoid being interrupted by fans who want your autograph―I think you have enough celebrity status to pack a punch." I laugh quietly. "No one has ever asked for my autograph."

Joel starts laughing along with me. "Not yet, perhaps, but I have a feeling people will ask you for your autograph one day."

"I suppose you never know." I let my laughter trail off. "In the meantime, however, if there's anyone who can draw awareness to the issue at University Hospital, and do so in a positive light, it's you."

Joel's expression sobers. He leans forward, resting his forearms on the edge of the table. "Okay, so what's this idea you've schemed up?"

"It's fairly basic, actually: you request a meeting with the hospital's top administrators to discuss the issue of the play area. They would never take time to meet with an unknown like me, but they're bound to pay attention if Joel Lambert makes the request. Once the meeting is arranged, you'll post an announcement about it on social media, and―"

"I barely use social media," Joel points out. "I hate that stuff."

"But you have social media accounts, right?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Joel frowns. "We were asked to create them, if we didn't have them already, when we got our athletic scholarships. We're expected to post updates about games, et cetera. I post only when I have to."

"And do you have a lot of followers?"

"So I've been told." Joel's modesty is again as sincere as it is amusing. "But I avoid social media like the plague."

"That's perfect, actually. Since you don't post often, when you do post something, I'm sure it captures a huge amount of attention. So if you post about why you're meeting with the hospital's administrators, the post will definitely get noticed. The hospital will get inundated with calls and emails from people who live in the area, and the media will start asking questions, too. The public pressure will be too much for the hospital to ignore."

Joel scratches his chin. "And when we finally do have the meeting with a few of the hospital's administrators, likely with media personnel in attendance, then what?"

"That's when we'll further express our concern about the hospital closing the pediatric play area. We'll make our case clear and concise, knowing the members of the media are recording the conversation and readying to spread the news. Of course, the hospital administrators will also be aware of the media's ability to publicize the meeting's outcome, so hopefully they'll elect to keep the play area open rather than face the backlash of negativity that will come if they still shut it down."

Joel doesn't reply as he peers at me.

A blush creeps into my cheeks. "I'm sorry. I've overstepped with this zany idea of mine, haven't I? I apologize for inserting myself into a cause that has been important to you for a long time. I'm sure you have your own ideas about what to do."

Joel draws in a breath. "You have nothing to apologize for. Your idea is fantastic, and having you at the meeting with me would be a huge help."

"You really think so?"

"Absolutely. You're a future healthcare provider, and you currently shadow physicians at the hospital. For those reasons alone, your perspective will be invaluable. Not to mention, you're an extremely smart and well-spoken woman. I . . ." he falls quiet. His brow furrows. "Wait, though. Will doing this endanger your reputation in the medical world? You're applying to med schools, correct? If you make waves with hospital administrators―especially in a publicized way―won't that hinder your chances of getting accepted somewhere?"

I sigh. "I won't deny that doing this may impact―perhaps severely―how I'm viewed by the med schools I'm interviewing at. The situation is made even more delicate because my number-one choice for med school is right here in the Lakewood region, and I dream of doing residency at University Hospital after that. Yet I believe this cause is important, and I believe that part of being a healthcare provider is advocating for patients . . . especially patients who cannot advocate for themselves."

Joel begins shaking his head. "I won't ask you to endanger your future in order to―"

"You're not asking me. I'm volunteering," I remind him. "I want to do this, despite the risk. I have to do it, because it's the right thing to do."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Besides, I'm guessing that I'm not the only one here who's taking a risk. By you drawing attention to this cause, I presume your coaches may get upset that you're spending time on something other than athletics, drawing publicity away from your team, and making waves with important people in the region. Am I right?"

Joel runs a hand through his hair. "Yeah, it could get messy, and not only for the reasons you cite." He exhales hard. "As an extra plot twist: Kaden's mother happens to be the president of University Hospital."

I need several moments to register what I just heard.

"Kaden's mother is the president of University Hospital?" I finally repeat. "Are you serious?"

"I'm serious."

I drop my head in my hands. How did I not figure this out? Like everyone else in the medical community, I know Angela Cox is the president of University Hospital. And Kaden told me his last name the other day. And considering there's only one famous, powerful Cox family in the region, I should have deduced that the two of them were connected.

Things just got a billion times more complicated, for both Joel and me.

I flinch. "So by doing this, you're going to clash with your teammate's parent."

"Yep." Joel nods. "My teammate's rich, influential, and powerful parent. The parent of the guy who has been gunning for my role as the starting point guard since our freshman year."

I start massaging my aching temples. "Then we need to change tactics. You can't endanger your senior basketball season, your starting position, your scholarship, and your future career. We'll figure out a different way to draw attention to what's happening with the pediatric play area. We'll―"

"No, we'll do exactly what you suggested. Like you, I want and need to do this," Joel calmly interrupts. "I'll reach out to the PR folks at the hospital tomorrow and set up a meeting. Once it's on the calendar, I'll post about it on social media. As you say, when word gets out, reporters will be salivating for an invite."

We both go quiet, holding each other's gazes across the table. My heart is drumming in a way that's unlike anything I've felt before. For the first time in my life, I'm doing something loud. Brave. Unexpected. Risky. And I'm doing it alongside Joel, a man who's rapidly winning me over in a way that I can't allow.

"All right. I'll wait to hear from you about the meeting." My hand is trembling as I motion to his laptop. "In the meantime, we have some chemistry to sort out."

Joel smiles. "That we do, Danielle. That we do."