The Forbidden Throb Chapter 163

Emma's POV:

The high-necked cashmere sweater felt suffocating.

I stood in front of my dorm room mirror Wednesday afternoon, tugging at the collar for what must have been the tenth time in as many minutes. The soft cream fabric covered my throat completely, but somehow it still didn't feel like enough.

My fingers traced the edge nervously, checking, rechecking.

The marks were hidden. They had to be.

Heat crept up my neck as fragments of last night flooded back, the way his careful composure had dissolved, how his usual restraint had given way to something raw and desperate. My cheeks burned at the memory of his mouth on my skin, the careful attention he'd paid to places no one else would see.

I pulled my hair forward over my shoulders, the hair waves providing an extra layer of coverage.

My phone buzzed on the desk. Daniel's name lit up the screen.

**Daniel:** *Remember to eat lunch. Take care of yourself.*

**Daniel:** *And Emma?*

I waited, watching the three dots appear and disappear.

**Daniel:** *I love you.*

My heart did that stupid fluttering thing it always did when he said those words. Even after hearing them whispered against my skin for hours last night, they still made me feel like I was falling.

**Emma:** *I love you too. Don't work too hard.*

**Daniel:** *Says the woman who stayed up until 2 AM working on her project.*

**Emma:** *You stayed up with me.*

**Daniel:** *I'd stay up every night if it meant being with you.*

I was still smiling at my phone when Olivia burst through the door, her face flushed with excitement and something that looked like panic.

"Emma! Oh thank God you're here." She waved her phone at me. "Emergency. Major emergency."

My stomach dropped. "What's wrong? "

"Bad news—your studying plans are officially dead." Olivia collapsed dramatically onto her bed. "We're about to be worked to death."

I froze, my phone buzzing belatedly in my hand as notifications from the student council group chat flooded my screen. I scanned through them quickly, piecing together what was happening, though I still didn't quite understand the urgency.

"...But the medical school lecture doesn't start until tonight, right?"

Six o'clock tonight, according to the schedule.

Based on the student council's usual workflow, showing up at five to prepare—handing out a few walk-in tickets to stragglers, testing the sound system—would have been more than sufficient.

"Why are we rushing over there so early? We'll just be sitting around doing nothing."

"That's what I *thought*," Olivia said, sitting up and scrolling frantically through her phone. "But apparently Dr. Prescott's lecture has gone viral. Like, *viral* viral. Tyler just sent me screenshots—the hashtag #DrPrescottTalk has been trending since this morning, and now they're expecting triple the normal attendance."

She thrust her phone at me, showing a Twitter thread with hundreds of retweets.

Someone had posted a photo from one of Daniel's previous lectures with the caption: *Boston's about to witness the cardiac surgery god in action tonight. RIP to everyone who didn't pre-register. #DrPrescottTalk*

The replies were chaos:

*WAIT IS THIS TONIGHT?? I'm driving from Yale*

*My attending literally gave me the afternoon off to go to this*

*If anyone has an extra ticket I will pay actual money*

My eyes widened. "This is... a lot."

"A lot? Emma, Tyler says people started lining up at *noon*. NOON. For a six PM lecture." Olivia grabbed my arm. "The student council is freaking out. They need all hands on deck for crowd control, registration, managing the overflow rooms—they're even setting up live streams in two other lecture halls because the venue can't hold everyone."

---

When we arrived at the venue, my breath caught.

The line stretched from the entrance all the way down the block. Students clutched notebooks and tablets, some holding professional cameras. A group of young women near the front were dressed like they were going to a cocktail party rather than a medical lecture.

"Holy shit," Olivia breathed. "Tyler wasn't kidding about the crowd."

We found Tyler near the entrance, looking harried as he directed volunteers. His face lit up when he saw us.

"Emma! Olivia! Thank God. We're drowning here." He handed us both volunteer badges and clipboards. "Emma, can you take the registration table? You'll be checking names against the pre-registration list and handing out the remaining walk-in tickets. Olivia, I need you helping manage the line."

I pinned the badge to my sweater, grateful for the relative anonymity of the registration table. From there, I could observe without being too visible, hidden behind stacks of programs and name tags.

The next thirty minutes were chaos. Person after person approached my table, and I heard the same questions over and over:

"Will Dr. Prescott be signing autographs after?"

"Can we take photos with him?"

"Is it true he's only thirty-one?"

Each question made my lips twitch with the urge to smile.

After a busy spell managing the registration table, I finally had a moment to breathe. I was standing at the coffee station in the lobby, filling a cup with water, when quick footsteps approached from the side.

"Emma!"

I turned to find Blake hurrying toward me, his face flushed as he clutched a paper takeout bag. His cheeks were distinctly pink, and he seemed almost breathless.

"I—I heard from Tyler that you guys have been working since this afternoon without a break," he said in a rush, holding out the bag. "I thought you might be hungry, so I grabbed some extra food..."

The bag smelled like Thai food. My stomach responded with an ill-timed rumble, but I kept my polite smile in place.

"That's really thoughtful of you, Blake. But we already ate." The lie came easily. "Tyler ordered pizza for the volunteers earlier."

"Oh." His face fell slightly. "Are you sure? There's plenty—"

"I'm sure. But thank you for thinking of us."

I reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear—hours of checking registrations and directing people had left me disheveled. The movement made my collar shift slightly.

Blake's eyes dropped to my neck. His expression changed, confusion flickering across his features.

"Emma..." He tilted his head, his brow furrowing. "Are there still mosquitoes this time of year?"