My Campus Doctor's Forbidden Cure - Chapter 8: Chapter 8
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His eyes found me first—just a quick glance with a flicker of concern—before turning to Mrs. Anderson and my father. "Mrs. Anderson, Mr. Laurent."
Dad's entire demeanor melted instantly, his voice oozing warmth. "Ethan?"
I must've looked completely lost because Mom patted my head like I was five. "This is Mr. Roscente's son. He's two years ahead of you at the same university."
Back in high school, I'd had my nose buried so deep in textbooks that guys like Ethan Roscente might as well have been invisible.
Though I did remember my parents mentioning Mr. Roscente—apparently Dad's big boss.
Seeing recognition click for my father, Ethan nodded. "Emily really wasn't feeling well. That's why I lent her my staff ID—so she could use the infirmary equipment."
Dad's face lit up like someone had flipped a switch. "Ah, just a misunderstanding then."
Even though Ethan was just his boss's kid, Dad's smile turned downright sycophantic, like his earlier rage had never existed.
Mom, ever the interrogator, pressed further. "What kind of illness? Was it serious?"
Ethan's gaze settled on me, softening. "Common hormonal imbalance. She's already halfway through meds and recovering fine. Nothing to worry about."
Smart—he'd given just enough medical jargon to sound convincing without mentioning anything embarrassing.
To my parents, his words worked like a Xanax. They wouldn't ask another question.
Our eyes met, and he threw me the subtlest wink.
The knot in my chest unraveled. Biting my lip, I heard Ethan continue, "Mrs. Anderson, we've traced the rumor's origin. I've pulled the backend data and emailed it to you."
Mrs. Anderson immediately started scrolling through her phone. As she did, Ethan added, "This is serious. I trust you'll handle it firmly—to set an example and maintain campus standards."
His tone left no room for argument. Mrs. Anderson just nodded along.
After walking my parents out, Dad was still grinning like an idiot as he climbed into the car, telling Ethan to "stay in touch."
Pathetic. In my two weeks at university, he hadn't bothered to call me once.
As their taillights disappeared, Ethan turned to me. "Feel like getting off campus for a bit?"
I nodded, automatically falling into step behind him—until he deliberately slowed his pace.
When we were finally side by side, he said lazily, "So you really didn't remember me."
I blinked, scrambling. "I do! You're Mr. Roscente's son."
Under the amber streetlights, food vendors hawked their wares to passing students.
Ethan suddenly stopped, turning to face me. He tilted his head down slightly. "Not that."
That's when I realized how tall he was. Even with his chin dipped, his eyes locked onto mine effortlessly.
His gaze was unreadable, swirling with something that made me fidget. "Then... what?"
Ethan chuckled and ruffled my hair like I was a puppy.
"That profile picture of mine—didn't it ring any bells? Freshman year, first day of high school."
The memory hit me like a freight train.
That day, Dad had driven me to school for orientation. My family had been wandering around like lost tourists, dragging bags and constantly asking for directions.
A guy walking a corgi had passed by. Mistaking him for faculty, I'd sprinted over and blurted, "Excuse me, teacher! Where's the girls' dorm?"
He'd looked startled, almost laughed, but still pointed the way.
My eyes went wide. "That teacher was you?"
Realizing how that sounded, I backpedaled, "I mean that guy with the dog—that was you?"
Ethan's lips curved. "Yeah. So you do remember."
A hint of something like regret colored his voice. "I recognized you the second you walked into the infirmary. Before adding you, I even made my profile picture my dog. Still, nothing."
Guilt prickled at me. I stared at my shoes, suddenly fascinated by the laces.
His fingers brushed through my hair, gently messing it up. "One more thing."
Ethan leaned against a lamppost, the streetlight casting shadows that made him look downright dangerous. "I wrote you a love letter once. Asked if you'd be my girlfriend."
My face went nuclear.
Growing up with helicopter parents, I'd treated boys like biohazards. Love letters? I'd barely skimmed them, terrified they'd derail my GPA.
Ethan's must've met the same fate.
Sure enough, when I stayed silent, he grinned. "You were polite though. Wrote 'Thank you' on the back. To date, you've thanked me fifteen times—including that one."
So that's why he'd said he was counting my thank-yous.
All this time, he'd been keeping score...
But every single one had been genuine.
He'd gotten me medicine, kept my secret, and defused my father's temper.
Flustered, I stammered, "I'm sorry, back then I—"
Ethan bent down, cutting me off.
His breath warmed my ear as he murmured, "What about now?"
The whisper sent electricity down my spine.
I gaped at him, finding his eyes burning with something that made my pulse stutter.
"Will you be my girlfriend?"
His voice was velvet wrapped around steel—impossible to resist.
Dad's entire demeanor melted instantly, his voice oozing warmth. "Ethan?"
I must've looked completely lost because Mom patted my head like I was five. "This is Mr. Roscente's son. He's two years ahead of you at the same university."
Back in high school, I'd had my nose buried so deep in textbooks that guys like Ethan Roscente might as well have been invisible.
Though I did remember my parents mentioning Mr. Roscente—apparently Dad's big boss.
Seeing recognition click for my father, Ethan nodded. "Emily really wasn't feeling well. That's why I lent her my staff ID—so she could use the infirmary equipment."
Dad's face lit up like someone had flipped a switch. "Ah, just a misunderstanding then."
Even though Ethan was just his boss's kid, Dad's smile turned downright sycophantic, like his earlier rage had never existed.
Mom, ever the interrogator, pressed further. "What kind of illness? Was it serious?"
Ethan's gaze settled on me, softening. "Common hormonal imbalance. She's already halfway through meds and recovering fine. Nothing to worry about."
Smart—he'd given just enough medical jargon to sound convincing without mentioning anything embarrassing.
To my parents, his words worked like a Xanax. They wouldn't ask another question.
Our eyes met, and he threw me the subtlest wink.
The knot in my chest unraveled. Biting my lip, I heard Ethan continue, "Mrs. Anderson, we've traced the rumor's origin. I've pulled the backend data and emailed it to you."
Mrs. Anderson immediately started scrolling through her phone. As she did, Ethan added, "This is serious. I trust you'll handle it firmly—to set an example and maintain campus standards."
His tone left no room for argument. Mrs. Anderson just nodded along.
After walking my parents out, Dad was still grinning like an idiot as he climbed into the car, telling Ethan to "stay in touch."
Pathetic. In my two weeks at university, he hadn't bothered to call me once.
As their taillights disappeared, Ethan turned to me. "Feel like getting off campus for a bit?"
I nodded, automatically falling into step behind him—until he deliberately slowed his pace.
When we were finally side by side, he said lazily, "So you really didn't remember me."
I blinked, scrambling. "I do! You're Mr. Roscente's son."
Under the amber streetlights, food vendors hawked their wares to passing students.
Ethan suddenly stopped, turning to face me. He tilted his head down slightly. "Not that."
That's when I realized how tall he was. Even with his chin dipped, his eyes locked onto mine effortlessly.
His gaze was unreadable, swirling with something that made me fidget. "Then... what?"
Ethan chuckled and ruffled my hair like I was a puppy.
"That profile picture of mine—didn't it ring any bells? Freshman year, first day of high school."
The memory hit me like a freight train.
That day, Dad had driven me to school for orientation. My family had been wandering around like lost tourists, dragging bags and constantly asking for directions.
A guy walking a corgi had passed by. Mistaking him for faculty, I'd sprinted over and blurted, "Excuse me, teacher! Where's the girls' dorm?"
He'd looked startled, almost laughed, but still pointed the way.
My eyes went wide. "That teacher was you?"
Realizing how that sounded, I backpedaled, "I mean that guy with the dog—that was you?"
Ethan's lips curved. "Yeah. So you do remember."
A hint of something like regret colored his voice. "I recognized you the second you walked into the infirmary. Before adding you, I even made my profile picture my dog. Still, nothing."
Guilt prickled at me. I stared at my shoes, suddenly fascinated by the laces.
His fingers brushed through my hair, gently messing it up. "One more thing."
Ethan leaned against a lamppost, the streetlight casting shadows that made him look downright dangerous. "I wrote you a love letter once. Asked if you'd be my girlfriend."
My face went nuclear.
Growing up with helicopter parents, I'd treated boys like biohazards. Love letters? I'd barely skimmed them, terrified they'd derail my GPA.
Ethan's must've met the same fate.
Sure enough, when I stayed silent, he grinned. "You were polite though. Wrote 'Thank you' on the back. To date, you've thanked me fifteen times—including that one."
So that's why he'd said he was counting my thank-yous.
All this time, he'd been keeping score...
But every single one had been genuine.
He'd gotten me medicine, kept my secret, and defused my father's temper.
Flustered, I stammered, "I'm sorry, back then I—"
Ethan bent down, cutting me off.
His breath warmed my ear as he murmured, "What about now?"
The whisper sent electricity down my spine.
I gaped at him, finding his eyes burning with something that made my pulse stutter.
"Will you be my girlfriend?"
His voice was velvet wrapped around steel—impossible to resist.
End of My Campus Doctor's Forbidden Cure Chapter 8. View all chapters or return to My Campus Doctor's Forbidden Cure book page.