Chapter 4
The woman walks around the counter to pacify the frazzled girl whose face was decorated with what appears to be a blend of strawberry filling and flour.
“Lexa, I refuse to work with that lunatic! She slung strawberry filling at me because I made one suggestion!”
Shoulders slumping, the woman replies, “I’m sorry, I know that Raven can be difficult to work with sometimes. She can get quite defensive when it comes to her Danish pastries.”
The young girl, who’s apparently been on the receiving end of another baker’s temper, throws her arms in the air in a show of exasperation.
And Clarke, who should have been out the door by now, watches on as she hangs onto this new revelation about Lexa by a thread. In the background, she hears the sound of cars passing by dim and buzz as patrons enter and exit and the absurdity of her standing motionless in the middle of a packed bakery when she should be hailing a cab to the hospital is not lost on her.
When she finally opens her mouth to speak, Clarke finds herself unsure of what to say. Undeterred, she tries again, but the small sound that forms is easily drown out by the catchy acoustic from the overhead speaker and thudding inside her chest.
And it is then that the most befitting word to sum up this incredible situation slips out.
“Bee.”
Lexa snaps her head around at the voice, no longer looking at the girl whose strawberry Danish makeup was now smudged with tears.
She looks surprised, but Clarke can’t decide if that’s a look that mirrors her own or one that falls in the same vein as bewilderment. And she doesn’t get the opportunity to ask her when an impatient hand tugs Lexa out of her sight.
“Shit.” Clarke scurries to the counter to see if she could get a look behind the wall that Lexa and the girl disappeared behind.
And it only takes about ten seconds for someone to ask her for her order. “Can I help you, ma’am?”
“Uh, well,” she says distractedly, eyes still glued to the area behind the brunette, “I have a question.”
“Sure. What is it?”
Clarke clears her throat and addresses the girl by the nametag clipped onto her shirt, “Katie, it’s a question that I’d like to ask your owner.”
And a weird feeling overcomes her the second she realizes what she’s about to say for the first time. “Lexa.”
“Wah-ell,” Katie stumbles as indiscreet arguing comes from the back. Her face turns two shades of red when she realizes that Clarke hears it too. “Lexa’s slightly busy right now. Why don’t I—“
And then comes a loud cry like someone’s been hurt.
It doesn’t take long before Clarke’s medical instincts have her dashing past the counter and the poor girl who have yet to offer up another lame cover up.
She doesn’t get far before she’s greeted by a woman in a high ponytail and a no nonsense attitude.
“Who are you? You can’t be back here.”
Her nametag reads Raven but her demeanor says she wants nothing to do with you.
“It’s okay. I know her.”
Clarke looks beyond slender shoulders to find Lexa standing beside the young girl from before. And she’s gripping her forefinger in a concerning way that makes Clarke leap towards the only person that could possibly be responsible for this crime.
She corners the baker in question into a workbench and jabs an incriminating finger at her shoulder.
“What did you do to her?”
Pearly white teeth slowly reveal themselves as Raven look between Lexa and the fuming doctor.
“Hey, Woods, can you get your white knight to back off for a second?”
“It wasn’t her fault.” Lexa calls out. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault, actually. My finger just got caught in the fridge door as I was getting the strawberries.”
This causes Clarke to retreat from her standoff with Raven to rush to Lexa’s side. “Can I see it? I’m a doctor,” she assures her.
“Can you try bending your finger?”
She performs a few preliminary tests on Lexa to rule out a fractured bone, but as Clarke suspects, Lexa fails them all miserably.
“That was a trick question!” Adorably but miserably, nonetheless.
She laughs at her unconvinced patient. “We need to get you to the hospital for an x-ray. You might have a broken finger.”
“Really?”
“You heard her Woods. Go to the hospital.” Raven speaks again, and her tone is less biting this time. “She’s a doctor, after all.”
“You’ll take care of the bakery while I’m away?”
“Don’t worry about it.” She begins kneading the dough in front of her with furious speed, and this causes the other baker to shift uneasily in her spot. “Just make sure no one gets in my way again.”
“I’ll help you hail a cab.” The unlucky girl who knows that she’ll be spending the next few hours alone with Raven without any potential witnesses exclaims.
If one did not know any better, they’d think that the young girl was the one headed for the hospital with the way the beads of sweat was glistening at her temple.
“It’s going to be okay. You know Raven’s bark is worse than her bite.”
The girl’s grip tightens around Lexa’s arm as they make their way out of the bakery, “Take me with you.”
“You know I need you here.”
The girl only gives a defeated look when a taxicab pulls up in front of them just mere seconds after they come to stand at the curb.
“It’s going to be okay,” Lexa offers a few last words of reassurance before Clarke and her duck their heads into the cab.
“Memorial Hospital, please.”
“You two again?”
Clarke cringes as the familiar smell of old leather and Doritos tell her all too well whose cab they just hopped into again.
“Mr. Potter,” she acknowledges, and the man squints his eyes at the two women from his rearview mirror.
“You two sharing a cab to the hospital today?”
“Yes.”
“Well, buckle up.”
As expected, they swerve back and forth from one lane to the next. But, much to Clarke’s displeasure to admit, Mr. Potter’s expedited method of driving was appreciated in this situation.
She turns to Lexa. “How’s your finger feeling?”
Lexa doesn’t answer but opts to show Clarke her bruised digit instead and Clarke can’t help but think how inappropriate it must be that she wants to kiss it better despite her medical knowledge.
“Why are you smiling when your finger looks like that?”
“You nearly chewed Raven’s head off back there. I think she likes you.”
“Really?”
“Yes. And that’s practically unheard of.”
“Well, I thought she hurt you.”
“She could never. And are you always this protective of people you hardly know?”
“No. I just…well, I---”
The car abruptly jerks to the right, sending Clarke to collide right into Lexa. And she finally figures out where the smell of roses comes from---that tiny area right under Lexa’s earlobe.
“I’m sorry.”
She slides back to her place in the cab, cheeks flaring and blood boiling. She glares at Mr. Potter through the rearview mirror, and, for the first time, he shows a sign of normal human interaction and smiles at Clarke. The sneaky bastard.
“So?” Lexa looks at her expectantly.
“Well…I just like your eclairs.” The dumb answer escapes her lips before she could even deliberate on it, but Lexa seem to accept it, nonetheless.
“Ah, so that’s it. I can’t say that I blame you though. They’re perfection.”
Clarke looks ahead and silently agrees with the wild haired woman whose jumbo-sized finger did not stop her from cracking a smile. Yes, perfection might just be what it is.
“Here is your stop, ladies.”
They arrive at the hospital earlier than Clarke expects, perhaps even earlier than if Clarke had left the bakery when she was supposed to.
“Keep the change, Mr. Potter,” she tells him after she hands him two bills.
“Wait.” He pulls out a card from the pocket of his shirt.
“That’s odd,” Clarke announces once they’re out of the cab, “I think he actually likes us.”
“What’s not to like?” Lexa grabs Mr. Potter’s business card from Clarke’s hand playfully and raises it to sun for further inspection.
“I was thinking perhaps the unsightly finger on your right hand.”
“This thing?” She stares down at her more than likely broken finger. “Yes, it is quite unsightly.”
“Yes.”
And they both laugh a hearty laugh that any stranger might suspect only lovers of laughing.
But that doesn’t stop Clarke from noticing the vending machine they pass up on their way into the ER or the totally innocent way her hand brushes up against Lexa’s.
“Dr. Griffin.” The nurse behind the counter regards her with the same cheesy smile that she puts on display for every doctor that passes by.
“Jamie, this is a friend of mine who might have a broken finger. Can you check her in promptly so that she can come into the back for an x-ray?”
“Sure.” She eyes the brown haired woman who’s clearly won the affection of their most eligible doctor. “Your ID and health insurance card, please.”
While the nurse type away at her computer, Lexa turns to Clarke to remind her that she actually has a job to do.
“You don’t have to stay with me. I don’t want to keep you from another patient.”
“Right. Of course.” Clarke did not want to admit to the irrational fear, but a small part of her was afraid that if she left Lexa in this ER a second time, she wouldn’t see her again for another twenty years.
“Promise me that you won’t leave until you get seen?”
She hands Mr. Potter’s card back to Clarke and smiles. “No way of leaving now.”
“Okay.” She walks backwards toward the double doors leading to the exam room, eyes still trained on Lexa. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Will do, doc.” She waves that unsightly finger in the air again, and it’s the cutest thing Clarke’s ever seen.
The nurse looks up from her computer screen to interrupt the exchange. “Oh you’ve been here before, Ms. Woods.”
“I have? I don’t remember.”