The Blush Factor by Deborah Bladon

Chapter Three

Faith

I considermyself lucky if I get in six hours of sleep a night. A glance at the old alarm clock on the nightstand next to the bed tells me I squeezed in six hours and fifteen minutes last night.

The reason I don’t prioritize sleep is simple.

I’m a devout studier.

My parents are investing a small fortune in my education. They scored it big with a chain of organic food stores but made it clear that each of their daughters had to forge their own career paths.

Rhea, my oldest sister, settled on a career in fashion. She flew to Los Angeles after her college graduation four years ago and is now the sweetheart of the swimsuit scene on the west coast.

She works for a designer label that sells bikinis for a bundle. Lucky for me, Rhea sends me samples every spring, so I have something to wear when I go visit our other sister, Arya, in Maui.

Her college applications took her to the islands after she was accepted to her dream school in Honolulu. She balanced her studies with surfing. After her graduation with a business degree four years ago, she landed a job at an oceanfront five star resort. She worked her way up to the position of head of client services.

My folks always knew that I’d become a doctor.

I was the kid who wrapped bandages around my dolls’ limbs and tried to shove thermometers into their sealed mouths. My imagination never wandered far off the path of medicine.

Most of my friends considered it a win if they got to go to a toy store. For me, it was the doctor’s office. It got so bad when I was ten-years-old that my mom had to put her foot down and insist that every fake cough I had didn’t warrant a trip to the emergency clinic two blocks from where we lived in Hartford.

I consider every doctor I ever saw in Connecticut a personal hero of mine. They ignited my passion for studying medicine.

Even though I knew that I was confident in my career choice, I still took a gap year after graduation intending to spread my wings and travel. I didn’t venture far, but used the time to work a full-time job as a receptionist at a medical clinic to save that money for some of my expenses when I did go to college. I also volunteered at an acute care center every evening and on the weekends. I knew that would look impressive on my college applications. It worked. I was accepted to a host of schools last year.

Now, at twenty-one, I’m in the second year of my pre-med studies at NYU with my eye on the prize of a spot in medical school.

I push back the light blanket that’s been covering me and swing my legs over the side of the bed.

My feet don’t touch the floor.

This one bedroom apartment came furnished, complete with this king size bed. The man who lived here moved to an extended care home in Hartford two months before I was accepted to NYU. Since my mom has been his daughter’s best friend since first grade, they decided that I’d sublet this place until I finished school.

A man in his eighties may have chosen the décor, but it works for me. I’m not in New York City to impress anyone. I’m here to earn a medical degree because I’m going to be Dr. Faith Upton one day. My dream is to work in emergency medicine because I believe that’s where I can make the greatest impact.

I reach for the fluffy pink robe that I always wrap around me when I get out of bed. I sigh when I cinch the belt, feeling both warm and content.

Early mornings are always my favorite time of day. I try to squeeze in an hour or two of studying before I go to campus. Today is different.

I have a coffee date with Gwynn in thirty minutes. I agreed to it after she texted me four times late last night saying that she had something earth-shattering to tell me this morning.

I pleaded with her via text to spill the beans so I could fit in some studying before class, but she insisted on a face-to-face, so I agreed to a cup of coffee at a place two blocks from here.

Skittering across the hardwood floors on bare feet, I rush toward the small bathroom and the shower that awaits me.

* * *

“The earth-shatteringnews is that you want to set me up?” I arch an eyebrow as I question my friend. “I didn’t need to rush down here for this, Gwynn.”

“You need a man,” she insists quietly. “Rich is a man. Just look at him, Faith. He checks every box. Nice hair, nice smile, and he’s going to be a doctor too.”

I don’t glance at the blond-haired guy she’s referring to because he happens to be her cousin. Right now, Rich is at the counter of this coffee shop putting in a loud and very rude demand for someone to fix his beverage.

That is enough to erase any positive he might have had going for him.

“School is my life,” I remind Gwynn. “I can’t date your cousin or any other man right now.”

The exception to that rule is if Dr. Hawthorne asked me out. I’d skip studying, eating, and sleeping for time with him. Since that will never happen in this lifetime, I plan to study my way to my degree, and then worry about my personal life. I may be the oldest virgin in this city by then, but if that’s the consequence of my commitment to my career, so be it.

“He’s only here for a week.” She lowers her voice. “Show him around the city, and he’ll show you a good time.”

“Eww.” I scrunch my nose. “I’m not sleeping with your cousin.”

“Why not?” Her eyes widen. “I’ve noticed how stressed you are lately. The best cure for that is sex.”

I wouldn’t know.

I haven’t confessed that to Gwynn because it’s personal.

Besides, I’ve had oral sex. I’ve given and received, so I have that going for me.

“Find someone else to show him around Manhattan.” I take a long sip from my coffee. “I’m not interested.”

She looks over to where her cousin is still complaining to the barista about the amount of creamer in his coffee. “You’re missing out on a great guy, Faith.”

Shrugging a shoulder, I glance at my watch. I’m missing out on study time and the chance to see Dr. Hawthorne leave his apartment today. The peephole in my apartment door gives me a clear view of my neighbor’s coming and goings.

Some people may think it’s creepy as fuck, but I consider it appreciating the stellar view from a distance. It’s innocent. He has no idea I’m crushing on him. Hell, he has no clue I even exist.

“You’re going to regret it,” Gwynn whispers as Rich approaches us with a cocky grin on his mouth.

I won’t.

By the end of the day, Rich Rochester will earn a small mention in my diary, and then he’ll be forgotten forever, just like every other man Gwynn has tried to set me up with.