Challenge #14 - Possession

Plot: Character #1 is madly in love with Character #2. Character #2 is secretly in love with #1, but doesn't think it will work out so #2 vehemently rejects any of #1's advances. #1 becomes discouraged and disappears. #2, realizing what he/she's lost, is now the chaser. And you can take it from there. :)

Requirements:
1) Bucketloads of sexual tension
2) Use of the quote: "You're mine. And I'm yours. It's a whole big possession thing. Point is: I love you."
3) Main characters must be adults, out of their teenage years.
4) Must be no more than 2000 words.

No:
1) Teenagers or younger as the main characters.
2) Use of the following actions: sighing, gazing, or trembling.
3) Supernatural aspects -- no faeries, vampires, or other-worldly beings. Realism, please.

WORD COUNT: 1,996

I should never be allowed to drink vodka.

Whenever I do, there are events that always occur, in two parts. Part One: I can't decide if I like vodka or not, so I one drink more to make my decision, which leads to two, a lot of drinking where I develop short term memory loss so that I three don't remember if I liked the vodka I previously downed which ends up in four more drinking.

Once I hit Part One sub-section Four, there's no turning back.

Part Two: I one wake up in someone else's bed where I am two naked, and the clothes that I do have are three scattered on the floor and four soaked with puke that is usually five mine.

I currently find myself doomed to Part Two sub-section One.

I crawled out of bed without waking him up. After retrieving my underwear, pants and shirt (damn, the puke stain, front and center. Oh well, it's Cathleen's shirt, and it's her fault for not monitoring my vodka consumption), I left, leaving the horrible event behind me and heading home to my pancakes and Advil.

I've never been a morning person. I don't pretend to be a morning person, and I have no desire to be a morning person. For me, mornings are never a good thing, and result in one: a bad mood, two: unfortunate mishaps, or three: catastrophe.

Three only happens on rare occasions, and only at the utmost inconvenient times. Like the first day of my job at the hospital. Doctors are supposed to be on time, not woken up by their alarm clock an hour before they start.

Well...doctors probably shouldn't have Hello Kitty alarm clocks purchased at garage sales. This is beside the point. Moving on.

I really do love New York. But getting a taxi is sometimes problematic. Worse is actually getting to your destination in good time. After moving all of two feet in five minutes, I made a last minute decision.

"This should cover it!" I said, tossing some bills at the driver, and before he could protest, I jumped out of the taxi, weaving through cars to the sidewalk. The (adorable!) heels I was wearing objected vehemently to this, so I hopped down the sidewalk, taking off my shoes without loosing time and distance. I arrived with wind-blown hair, carrying my shoes and panting.

Pretty picture, isn't it?

I slipped on my shoes when I got into the elevator and tried to regulate my breathing. I combed through my hair with my fingers, then the elevator dinged, opening on the pediatrics floor. As I rounded the corner, an attractive male doctor caught my eye. He noticed me at the same time, and I suddenly had a sinking feeling…

"Hey," he said pointing a pen at me, "aren't you-"

"Probably not," I said, cutting him off, "I've never seen you before."

He was smiling knowingly, and I had the strongest urge to slam my head against a wall, "Yes you are. You're the vodka girl from last weekend."

I winced, "The vodka girl?" I asked, embarrassed he had a name for me, realizing too late that I admitted to my identity.

"What brings you here?" he asked, clearly enjoying himself.

Just then, my boss came out of the room I was in front of, "Good morning Miss Cohen," he said, holding out his hand to me.

"Hello, Mr. Hansen," I said, forcing on a brilliant fake smile, and then the doctor's face lit up.

"Why, Miss Cohen," he said, distracting me, "You don't work here, do you?"

God, this would be a good time to strike me with a lightning bolt.

Spell "the devil": C-A-S-E-Y B-R-A-D-S-H-A-W. I was really excited for this job, but of all people, he has to work here. Even worse, everyone loves him. I don't get it. He's…he's just-

Someone grabbed my shoulders and pinned me against a little nook by the elevator. My breath caught and I looked up, only to be met by that awful smirk.

"Hello, Sage," he said, his smirk widening as I glared at him.

Infuriating. He's infuriating.

"Let me go," I said through gritted teeth.

He looked at me like he was about to laugh, "Come on, Cohen, you're so tense," he said, rubbing my shoulder softly, "You need to let go for once."

"No," I said, holding my ground, "You need to let go of me."

"Not a chance, darling."

I have never wanted to smack someone as hard as I do when he smirks at me. I came up with a master plan on my first day here when I was put in this compromising situation of working with Casey: avoid him. Pathetic? No. It's simply self-preservation, and if I can see him coming, I can usually avoid situations like this, which are difficult to get out of.

"Case, I have to go," I said, starting to squirm.

"Actually, you don't," he pointed out. "You have about twenty minutes until you have to check on your next patient."

"You're stalking me."

"Just doing necessary research," he said, unflinching.

"Do you have any idea how creepy you are?"

"How else am I supposed to catch you alone? Any other time you rush into a patient's room or go to the bathroom. Unless you have a bladder problem, you probably don't need to go the bathroom that much."

The worst thing? He usually wins. So, I deflate and stop glaring at him.

"Can you please let me go?" Yeah, I'm reduced to begging. This happens a lot and I'm tired of fighting, OK? Leave me alone.

"On one condition," he said. I just raised an eyebrow at him, "Go to dinner with me tonight."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to."

"Yes you do."

"Actually, I have no desire to at all."

"You have plenty, Cohen," he said, moving his hands to my hips, "You're just scared."

"I'm not afraid of anything, Casey," I said, annoyed. "I just don't want to."

"Why not?"

"Case..." I took a deep breath before I continued, "What happened between us was a one-time thing. I was drunk and not thinking clearly, because if I was I wouldn't..." Damn. How can I put this nicely...?

"You wouldn't what?" he asked curiously.

"I wouldn't have done it," I said, looking straight at him, "I don't like guys like you."

"Whoa, wait a minute," he said with a small laugh, "Guys like me? You don't even know me, Sage."

"Come on Casey," I said, exasperated, "I don't want to be a fling."

"Who said you'd be a fling?" he asked, pulling my waist closer to him. Gosh, he smells really good for working in a hospital. Sexy but warm, so not intimidating but- no! This is ridiculous.

"Please," I begged him, "Just...stop, Case. I don't want to be with you."

His smirk faded, "Can't or don't want to?"

"Aren't those the same?"

"Not at all."

I looked at him for a moment, and we never broke our gaze, "I don't want to," I said finally.

He nodded and averted his eyes, "Alright."

When he walked away, I could still feel the pressure of his fingers against my waist.

Things had been OK for a few weeks. Casey didn't give me the cold shoulder or anything. We were completely cordial and professional, and contrary to popular to belief (Cathleen) I was fine with that.

Then two of our receptionists called in sick on the same day. Being the helpful person I am, I offered to answer phones for a few hours.

Mistake number one.

Around 12:30, a girl with long blonde hair and bright sandals strode up to the desk, "Excuse me," she said, "Where is Dr. Bradshaw?"

"With a patient," I responded, smiling at her.

"How long will he?" she asked, frustrated.

"Uh..." I stammered, caught off guard by her impatience and annoyance, "I'm not sure."

She rolled her eyes and clicked her nails on the desk, "OK. Thanks."

She started to walk away and my curious side asked, "Would you like me to tell him anything for you?" Mistake number two.

She looked back and said, "Yeah. Tell him to not make lunch dates with his girlfriend if he's not going to bother to show up."

I didn't hear anything after "girlfriend."

That stupid bitch ruined everything.

I was doing so well. Not talking to or thinking about him was wonderful. I was actually able to concentrate on my job without the fear of getting jumped.

And then...she came. His girlfriend. Why would he even think about dating someone like her?! He was actually a good guy, and way too good for her.

While I was having lunch with Casey and a few other doctors, he sat next to me, just eating and making conversation. He used to move his hand up my leg and I would try not to squirm or yell. It used to drive me crazy and made me so mad. And now…him just sitting there, just eating his damn noodles, it's driving me even more crazy.

He patted his pockets and then got up, "Shit, I forgot my phone in my car. I'll see you guys later," he said before leaving the room.

I couldn't take it anymore. So…I snapped…

I waited a few seconds before leaving the room. As soon as I got out the door, I ran towards the elevator and barely squeezed past the shutting doors. "You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend," I blurted out.

"How did you know?"

"She came here."

"You never told me that." He wasn't mad. He seemed...amused. Bastard.

"About a week ago, look, it doesn't matter!" I said.

That smirk that I haven't seen in a while started tugging at the corners of his mouth, "Why is it such a big deal that I'm dating?"

"It's not that you're dating, it's that you're dating her." The elevator door opened and I hit the close button, "You could do so much better."

"Where is this coming from?"

"She's not good for you. She's a bitch and doesn't appreciate you at all!"

"And you do?" he said, his arms folded across his chest.

"That's not the point."

"Yes it is," he said, "Look, you made it clear to leave you alone. So I did. And then I moved on and started dating."

"But I don't want you to!" Whoa, who said that...?

Oh, me. Right.

The elevator opened, and there were a couple people waiting outside, "Just a minute!" I said, closing it.

"Sorry, Sage, but that's not how it works. You can't tell me to leave you alone and then not let me date."

"That's not what I meant," I said desperately. What did I mean anyway? "Why does she get you? That's not even fair."

"You didn't want me!" he yelled, aggravated.

"I don't know what I want!" I yelled back, "Right now, I'm caught between punching you or pushing you against the wall and..." This is embarrassing. I shouldn't be allowed to talk anymore.

"And what, Cohen?" he asked, his smirk back.

"I hate you dating her. I hate you not doing anything to me. I thought I'd like that, but I don't. I don't want you dating other girls, or flirting with other girls, or doing anything to anyone but me."

The door opened, and people were complaining, "Oh, just take the damn stairs and get some exercise!" I yelled, closing the door.

"Sage," Casey said calmly, "You're going to have to help me out, because I have no idea what the hell you want."

"You," I said. "I want you, and I want you to have me, and no one else to have either of us. You're mine. And I'm yours. It's a whole big possession thing. Point is: I love you."

The people waiting outside the elevator had a nice picture when those doors opened. I didn't even need vodka for this.