~*~
I was overworked and definitely underpaid. I don't get enough for doing this. I dropped off my latest patient, a 16-year-old hypochondriac on ecstasy. Not a good mix. I was walking toward the suture room, where I had left a med student unattended for a period of 10 minutes. Last time I did that, the student panicked and sewed her glove into the stitches. Thank god the guy was drunk and passed out. That could have turned into a million-dollar lawsuit. I was looking up, and then I saw her. My body jerked into the side hallway and I took a different route to the room. No, I was not avoiding her. I mean I didn't have a reason to be. I heard my name being called. I snapped out of my list of, no they were not excuses . . .
"Carter!!!"
I whipped around to face Susan, who didn't look too pleased.
"What's up?"
She joined me in my walk toward the room.
"I've been getting some complaints about you."
I gave her my usual I don't give a damn stare.
"Really, you've got to lighten up on the med students. They're here to learn."
I know that but when they start using humans as science experiments I think it's about time to say something.
"When they don't endanger a patient's life."
I heard her groan a little. I liked to be a bit difficult from time to time.
"And ease up on the residents as well. They know what their doing, and their doing it practically for free."
Yeah, I remember. I was a resident for a few years.
"Okay . . . "
She looked at me. It was getting annoying.
"Learn how to play nicely."
I always played nicely. What was she talking about?
"I always do."
I heard her laugh and mutter a whatever. I walked into the room, and saw that our suture victim actually looked good. So maybe not all these med students were a pain in the butt. I signed the discharge orders and told the student to tell the woman to come back in five to seven days.
I exited that room and headed back to the board to cross her name off the list. Strangely enough most of the patients up there were either waiting for a consult or admitted to a department. Means break time for me. I need a strong cup of coffee if I'm going to make it through the day. I headed toward the lounge. I loved the swing door. It was fun, unless you were standing behind it and managed to get hit with it. I walked in, and found Dr. Lockhart sitting at the table, reading a newspaper, and drinking her coffee. She probably hadn't started her shift yet, since her hair was still down, and well, she looked amazing. But of course, she didn't acknowledge my presence. I wondered if Bryce was here today. I wanted to ask him if he felt like playing some baseball or basketball this weekend. Trying to get out of the house.
"Where's Bryce?"
I saw her look up at me, but I could only see half of her face because of the paper.
"He's with Sam and Alex. They're going to Cubs game."
I nodded my head as I poured my cup of coffee. It was fresh. Finally. Caffeine.
I could feel her gaze on my back. It's a habit I picked up. I can feel when people look at me. I spun around, and sure enough, the paper was down and she was looking straight at me.
"What?"
She gave me a small smirk.
"You are so unique, you know that?"
Unique? Was that the best word to describe me?
"Thanks . . . "
My tone was somewhat sarcastic but I realized she had a tint of makeup on, probably not working trauma today, and she looked breathtaking. I was starring. I knew I was starring. It was getting hard not to.
"You're starring."
She said it so monotone. Sort of angrily.
"I'm sorry."
She rolled her eyes. And then she pouted. She cocked her head to the side and a few strands fell over her face and she brushed them behind her ears.
"Did . . . Did you mean what you said last night?"
Why the hell did I know that this was going to happen?
I began to suck on my bottom lip. Another annoying habit. What was I supposed to tell her? That she drove me crazy, down two different roads? I wanted to yell at her, scream at her for not doing her job, for taking too long, for not doing what she was supposed to. And then there was the other road that made my heart skip a beat, I don't know what to say. I mean I've been in love before, but never like this. This feeling. It was great, yet creepy and scary at the same time.
I didn't say anything. I just didn't know how the hell to tell this woman that I've hated for weeks that I actually like her. Much less love her. I barely know her. She was looking at me, frustration growing in her eyes. I just didn't know what to do. So I just turned around and headed toward the door, cup of coffee in hand. But then again, this might be my one and only chance to tell her without having to scream it at her in anger or something. That's not always a good scene. I opened the door. I wanted to stop and say yes, and another part of me told me to walk through that damn door.
"Yeah. I did."
I said it. There I said it. No more. I quickly rushed out the door and didn't turn back. I cannot believe I just did that. That's absurd. I hope I did the right thing. Sometimes the best thing to do is follow the heart. I walked toward the desk, grabbed a chart, and started my game of avoiding Abby all over again.
I was overworked and definitely underpaid. I don't get enough for doing this. I dropped off my latest patient, a 16-year-old hypochondriac on ecstasy. Not a good mix. I was walking toward the suture room, where I had left a med student unattended for a period of 10 minutes. Last time I did that, the student panicked and sewed her glove into the stitches. Thank god the guy was drunk and passed out. That could have turned into a million-dollar lawsuit. I was looking up, and then I saw her. My body jerked into the side hallway and I took a different route to the room. No, I was not avoiding her. I mean I didn't have a reason to be. I heard my name being called. I snapped out of my list of, no they were not excuses . . .
"Carter!!!"
I whipped around to face Susan, who didn't look too pleased.
"What's up?"
She joined me in my walk toward the room.
"I've been getting some complaints about you."
I gave her my usual I don't give a damn stare.
"Really, you've got to lighten up on the med students. They're here to learn."
I know that but when they start using humans as science experiments I think it's about time to say something.
"When they don't endanger a patient's life."
I heard her groan a little. I liked to be a bit difficult from time to time.
"And ease up on the residents as well. They know what their doing, and their doing it practically for free."
Yeah, I remember. I was a resident for a few years.
"Okay . . . "
She looked at me. It was getting annoying.
"Learn how to play nicely."
I always played nicely. What was she talking about?
"I always do."
I heard her laugh and mutter a whatever. I walked into the room, and saw that our suture victim actually looked good. So maybe not all these med students were a pain in the butt. I signed the discharge orders and told the student to tell the woman to come back in five to seven days.
I exited that room and headed back to the board to cross her name off the list. Strangely enough most of the patients up there were either waiting for a consult or admitted to a department. Means break time for me. I need a strong cup of coffee if I'm going to make it through the day. I headed toward the lounge. I loved the swing door. It was fun, unless you were standing behind it and managed to get hit with it. I walked in, and found Dr. Lockhart sitting at the table, reading a newspaper, and drinking her coffee. She probably hadn't started her shift yet, since her hair was still down, and well, she looked amazing. But of course, she didn't acknowledge my presence. I wondered if Bryce was here today. I wanted to ask him if he felt like playing some baseball or basketball this weekend. Trying to get out of the house.
"Where's Bryce?"
I saw her look up at me, but I could only see half of her face because of the paper.
"He's with Sam and Alex. They're going to Cubs game."
I nodded my head as I poured my cup of coffee. It was fresh. Finally. Caffeine.
I could feel her gaze on my back. It's a habit I picked up. I can feel when people look at me. I spun around, and sure enough, the paper was down and she was looking straight at me.
"What?"
She gave me a small smirk.
"You are so unique, you know that?"
Unique? Was that the best word to describe me?
"Thanks . . . "
My tone was somewhat sarcastic but I realized she had a tint of makeup on, probably not working trauma today, and she looked breathtaking. I was starring. I knew I was starring. It was getting hard not to.
"You're starring."
She said it so monotone. Sort of angrily.
"I'm sorry."
She rolled her eyes. And then she pouted. She cocked her head to the side and a few strands fell over her face and she brushed them behind her ears.
"Did . . . Did you mean what you said last night?"
Why the hell did I know that this was going to happen?
I began to suck on my bottom lip. Another annoying habit. What was I supposed to tell her? That she drove me crazy, down two different roads? I wanted to yell at her, scream at her for not doing her job, for taking too long, for not doing what she was supposed to. And then there was the other road that made my heart skip a beat, I don't know what to say. I mean I've been in love before, but never like this. This feeling. It was great, yet creepy and scary at the same time.
I didn't say anything. I just didn't know how the hell to tell this woman that I've hated for weeks that I actually like her. Much less love her. I barely know her. She was looking at me, frustration growing in her eyes. I just didn't know what to do. So I just turned around and headed toward the door, cup of coffee in hand. But then again, this might be my one and only chance to tell her without having to scream it at her in anger or something. That's not always a good scene. I opened the door. I wanted to stop and say yes, and another part of me told me to walk through that damn door.
"Yeah. I did."
I said it. There I said it. No more. I quickly rushed out the door and didn't turn back. I cannot believe I just did that. That's absurd. I hope I did the right thing. Sometimes the best thing to do is follow the heart. I walked toward the desk, grabbed a chart, and started my game of avoiding Abby all over again.