The parking lot of the hospital was dark, with only a few lights illuminating the way, creating an eerie atmosphere. When I opened the door of my car without paying attention, I heard a loud whack followed by a groan—enough to know I had hit someone.

At that moment, my phone slipped from my grasp and fell to the ground. A tightness formed in my chest as I hurriedly got out to see what had happened.

As I feared, there was a man clutching his chest. He looked to be in his early thirties, towering at least six feet tall. Dressed in a dark suit that concealed a well-toned, muscular body beneath, he had Viking-like jet-black hair and dark eyebrows that framed his striking steel-gray eyes—so similar to my little one's. I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd seen him in a magazine before. He was breathtakingly beautiful, too stunning to be real.

His long beard and chiseled cheekbones were like the cherry on top. I added him to my crush list—right at the top. As I continued to scan him, my eyes landed on his white knuckles, clenched tightly, and I noticed his gritted teeth. His face was flushed with suppressed rage, and I couldn't help but feel a flicker of fear.

I broke out of my trance, and the first thing that escaped my lips was an apology, repeated in a small voice. I wondered where my voice had gone when I needed it most. I quickly knelt beside him, my heart racing. "I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" I stammered, trying to assess the damage.

He groaned again, but then his eyes met mine, and for a moment, everything else faded away. There was an intensity in his gaze that caught me off guard. "I'll live," he replied, his voice deep and smooth, almost soothing despite the circumstances.

I couldn't shake the feeling that I recognized him. The parking lot felt colder, and I shivered slightly, both from the chill and the strange spark between us.

"Seriously, I'm really sorry," I said again

He sat up slowly, rubbing his shoulder. "No harm done," he said, a hint of a smile breaking through his pained expression. "But maybe watch where you're going next time?"

I nodded, feeling flustered. "Right, of course. Are you sure ?"

He waved a hand dismissively, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—a mix of annoyance and amusement. "I'm tougher than I look."

I couldn't help but smile back, even in such an awkward situation. "Well, I'm glad you're okay... I think."     

My rambling stopped abruptly when I spotted a wet patch on his shirt that seemed to flare out. Instinctively, I reached out to touch it, only to find it was blood seeping between my fingers, spreading into the damp fabric. The bright red was darkening, taking on a bluish hue. The pads of my fingers were now stained crimson.

If it had been any other day, I would have preferred to jump off a cliff rather than face this bloody fiasco. But now, I was not only scared but also deeply worried for him.

Tears filled my eyes. "I'm so sorry, sir. I didn't mean to hurt you."

The anger on his face began to fade.

"Hey! Don't cry. It's okay. It's not your fault. The stitches might have broken" he replied gently.

"But sir..." I couldn't just leave him like this. I knew how to stitch wounds, and I had to help him.

"Can I help you? I'm good with dressing and stitches. My sister gets hurt all the time, so I'm used to it," I offered.

He took out his phone. It seemed like he was texting someone. He then, nodded his head with a long sigh escaping his lips. Retrieving  out the first aid kit, I stood in front of him and gave him my weird smile. I was mentally practicing how to ask him to move to backseat. He wasn't expecting me to clean his wound out here or was he?

I  practically stood there staring at him. We were having mini stare contest.  One of his dark eyebrows arched, that's when I pointed him to backseat.  He moved to  backseat  without a word. Chanting it's just a help on my head I followed him to backseat.

We sat there looking to each other. There was another stare contest. He had to open his shirt. How was i supposed to bandage it?

"Ahmm that ....can you open your shirt? I need to" before I could complete my word he opened his suit followed by shirt showcasing his ripped muscles. Every muscle on his torso was flowing from light into dark. He was living work, an art. His skin was so tempting to touch, every move giving away his strength.

There was only a small part of the incision spreading apart. True to his word his stitch had been broken. The wound was small, somewhat ragged around edges but barely bleeding now.

"Thank god! The bleeding has stopped, we can cover it with a clean bandage. Though you should see your doctor. I glanced up at him only to find him staring at me, particularly at my lips. His stare was getting uncomfortable and also had the same effect on my breathing. The space inside felt like it was closing, getting constricted and shallow.

I could feel the heat of his gaze from my lips to the collar bone. His gaze was like hot iron banding on my skin. The close proximity we were in wasn't helping either. Sucking in deep breath I tried to concentrate on my work. I dabbed the alcohol free wipe on his chest.

As soon as I dabbed it, he hissed with pain. With a small sorry I moved forward then lightly blew on the wound forgetting for a while that my face was too close to his chest. Covering it properly I bandaged his wound.

"Please see your doctor soon. "My words trailed as,

I looked up but never expected to find him so close. His lips would touch my fore head even if I would lean just a little. His hot breath hitting my forehead was making the temperature inside the car hotter if possible. I suddenly felt his warm breath and my sweaty palms on his chest.

The buzzing of his ringtone broke our trance. I moved my hands away as if he had burned me. I could feel my blood rushing to my cheeks. It was getting too hot inside.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

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