More Than Her Doctor

Chapter seven...

Paloma sat in the study room beside Cameron, who was lazily reclining in his seat, glued to a game on his phone. She tapped her pen against the notebook impatiently, trying to go over the topic of chemical reactions.

"Cameron," she said for the third time. "We need to get this done. The presentation is next week."

"Chill, Paloma. I work better under pressure," he said without looking up, a smirk playing on his lips.

Paloma rolled her eyes. "It’s called procrastination, genius."

He laughed and continued playing. Frustrated, she stood up. "I’m going to the bathroom. Try to act like a student while I’m gone."

She left and walked into the bathroom down the hall. Just as she was about to leave the sink, she heard voices approaching and quickly slipped into one of the stalls.

"Jane is so lucky," a girl’s voice said. "Having a hot tutor come to her house like that. And you mean to tell me nothing has happened between you two?"

Jane’s voice came next, laughing nervously. "He’s... formal with me. Strictly academics."

"But you like him, don’t you?" another asked.

Jane hesitated, then confessed, "I’m madly in love with him. Not because he’s good-looking—though he is—but because of how he carries himself. He’s responsible, composed, and a genius."

Paloma’s heart clenched. She had just been shown what a real contender looked like. Jane wasn’t just a pretty face—she admired Seojin for the same reasons Paloma was drawn to him. And she was 25. Mature. Probably better for him.

When the girls left, Paloma stepped out slowly, her thoughts spiraling. Her mind clouded with insecurities, she wandered down the hall and bumped into Kenya.

"Hey!" Kenya hugged her. "What’s wrong? You look like your dog just got hit by a truck."

Paloma forced a smile. "Nothing. Just thinking too much."

Kenya’s phone buzzed, followed by Paloma’s. They both looked down.

**Jake is throwing a party next Saturday! Come through!**

Paloma raised an eyebrow. "Isn’t Jake the dreadhead who always hangs around Cameron?"

Kenya nodded. "Yup. But you’re coming with me. We need to live a little."

Paloma groaned. "I really don’t want to be near Cameron."

"Ignore him. Come for me. Pleaseee!" Kenya pleaded with her most dramatic puppy-dog eyes.

Paloma laughed. "Okay, okay. I’ll come."

Excitement fluttered in her chest. A university party. Drinks. Music. Dancing. People. Freedom. She was going.

"What are you wearing?" Kenya asked.

"No idea."

"Good. We’re going shopping after lectures. Swimming trunks and party outfits."

"I’m not buying a bikini," Paloma added quickly. "I don’t know how to swim."

"That’s fine, but you’re still getting something cute."

Later that evening, Paloma knocked gently on Seojin’s office door. "I’m going out shopping with Kenya. Just wanted to let you know."

Seojin looked up, expression unreadable. "Where to?"

"The mall. Just for a few outfits and swimwear. Nothing crazy."

He leaned back in his chair, his protective instincts lighting up. He didn’t like her walking around without him. But her soft pleading eyes melted his resistance.

"Alright," he said. He pulled open a drawer and handed her a card.

Paloma blinked. "What’s this?"

"Spare credit card. For whatever you need. Transportation. Food. Clothes."

She stared at the numbers. "$500,000?! Seojin!"

"You won’t spend close to that. But have fun."

Overwhelmed, she threw her arms around him. "You’re going to spoil me."

He smiled gently. "Someone has to."

Paloma ran to meet Kenya with a bounce in her step. "Let’s go! We’re going to SLAY this party."

And in the back of her mind, though she was smiling, the memory of Jane’s voice echoed like a warning bell.

…

Paloma met Kenya just outside campus, her excitement barely contained.

"You ready?" Kenya grinned, slipping her arm through Paloma’s.

"Of course I am," Paloma said with a laugh. “Let’s turn heads.”

They took a cab into the city, heading straight for one of the trendiest shopping strips. The streets buzzed with students, music, and the scent of street food. Inside the first boutique, Kenya pulled Paloma toward a rack of bold, eye-catching pieces—mini dresses with cutouts, metallic crop tops, high-waisted leather pants.

“This is party girl energy,” Kenya said, holding up a shimmering black dress. “We’re about to cause a scene.”

Paloma raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Good. I like scenes.”

They both burst into laughter before splitting off to grab more outfits. Paloma found herself gravitating toward a rich burgundy dress—short, sleeveless, with a subtle slit at the thigh. It wasn’t too revealing, but it hugged her curves in a way that made her feel grown.

In the dressing room, she turned to the side and looked at herself, biting her lip. She snapped a quick mirror pic and—without overthinking—sent it to Seojin.

Paloma: Shopping for the party. Kenya’s dragging me through ten shops already 😩

The reply came quick.

Seojin: Stick with her. And that dress is short.

She rolled her eyes, smiling.

Kenya peeked into the dressing room. “Let me see!”

Paloma stepped out, and Kenya gasped. “Oh, this is the one. You’re giving confident main character. Like, not trying too hard—but still dangerous.”

Paloma laughed. “I’ll take that.”

After buying their outfits—with Seojin’s platinum card causing the cashier to blink twice—they headed down the street, bags in hand, the warm evening breeze rustling their hair.

“You think this party will be wild?” Kenya asked, sipping a bubble tea they picked up on the way.

“Probably,” Paloma said. “But either way… I’m going to have fun.”

Kenya nodded. “That’s the spirit.”

They stopped at one last accessory store before calling it a day. On the way back, Kenya leaned against Paloma in the cab. “You know… I’m glad I have you as a friend.”

Paloma smiled softly. “Me too.”

…

“Paloma, what in God’s name is that?” Kenya asked, eyes wide in horror.

Paloma blinked, standing proudly with a soft, flowy sundress in her hands. “It’s a sundress,” she said, holding it up. “Pretty, long, feminine—”

Kenya cut her off with a groan. “Girl. You’re going to a party, not a tea ceremony in the 1800s.”

Paloma laughed nervously. “But it’s cute, right?”

Kenya gave her a look and snatched the sundress from her. “Cute, yes. Party-worthy? No. Get in the dressing room. I’m choosing your dress.”

Before Paloma could protest, Kenya was already pushing her inside a changing room. “But I haven’t even—”

“No buts! Trust me. I’m your stylist now.”

Kenya came back with a flurry of dresses, tossing them one by one over the door. Paloma tried on a few — too short, too tight, too sparkly. She stepped out reluctantly in each, shaking her head. Kenya gave a dramatic sigh.

Then she handed her a final dress — a red, short, body-hugging gown with thin straps and an open back.

Paloma hesitated. “Kenya…”

“Just try it on.”

A few minutes later, Paloma stepped out, red gown hugging her body perfectly, highlighting the curve of her hips and the dip of her waist.

Kenya gasped. “¡Dios mío! You’re so curvy! And you’ve been hiding this?”

Paloma blushed and looked at her reflection. “Well… I dunno?”

Suddenly, a memory flashed: the short dress she’d worn to dinner with Seojin. The way his eyes had lingered for a moment longer than usual.

She cleared her throat. “Okay, let’s get more stuff.”

They spent the rest of the day laughing, trying on outfits, and picking up party-appropriate clothes. Paloma also found a modest floral dress—still stylish, but soft and flowing—just in case. She didn’t say it aloud, but she’d picked it with Seojin in mind.

By evening, Kenya and Paloma hugged goodbye at the station. Paloma returned home, shopping bags in hand, humming contentedly.

Seojin wasn’t home yet.

She took the bags to her room and started organizing her clothes, admiring the bold new pieces she never imagined herself wearing. But something tugged at her curiosity. Her eyes wandered to the hallway… to his room.

She tiptoed toward it, trying the handle. Locked.

She sighed in frustration, whispering to herself, “Now how am I supposed to get that book?”

She turned to leave—only to bump into a firm chest.

Seojin stood there, towering over her, just inches away. Paloma’s heart stopped.

“Looking for something?” he asked quietly, brow raised.

She blinked. “W-When did you get home?”

“Just now,” he said, voice calm. “What were you doing at my door?”

“I, uh…” She couldn’t think of anything believable.

Instead of pressing her, he leaned in and placed a hand on the wall beside her head, trapping her in place.

Her breath hitched.

He gently tilted her chin up so she had no choice but to meet his eyes.

“How was your shopping?”

“Good,” she stammered, trying not to melt.

“What did you buy?”

“Just… normal girl stuff.”

His eyes twinkled. He hummed, brushing his thumb across her bottom lip. Paloma's knees weakened.

Thoughts were rushing through her head. Why is he so close? Why is he touching my lip? What is he thinking?

Then he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his voice barely a whisper. “You’re important to me, Paloma. Always will be.”

Her cheeks turned crimson. She wanted to say something — anything — but words wouldn’t come.

He placed a tender kiss on her forehead.

“Good night,” he said softly, turning and walking down the hallway.

Paloma watched him go, her legs barely supporting her. When she finally made it to her room, she shut the door and flopped onto her bed face-first, grabbing her pillow and screaming into it.

“Why does he say things like that?! It gets me all… excited! Like—turned on! And he’s my family doctor! Ugh!”

She rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. “He probably just sees me like a little sister. That’s all. That’s all it is…”

She closed her eyes, hugging the pillow, trying to steady her heart. The sadness in her chest dulled the excitement. But it helped her sleep.

Even if her dreams were anything but calm.