His full out belly laugh sliced right through my mood and I couldn’t help but join him. His laugh was infectious, even ... sexy.
“That bad, huh?”
“Don’t be surprised if Sam Petit’s scrubs don’t match when you see him.”
Guy was handsome and funny.
“Poor kid, that really stinks. I hope he’s not in my office crying all day like that intern last year. The one that wound up quitting month two—remember him?”
“Don’t feel bad for him.” The dimples disappeared and one-part arrogant took over. “Fuck that, I don’t feel bad for any of them. We all did it. Hell-” Guy looked me straight in the face as his other two-thirds finished, “and I definitely didn’t have a beautiful shoulder like yours to cry on. As I recall, peds wasn’t sharing you back then.”
Did he really just say that?
“Be careful what you say, you wouldn’t want anyone to hear that tough Guy Hunter cried like a baby as an intern.” I stepped back, breaking eye contact and letting some air back into the suddenly tight atmosphere. He flirted with all things female; it meant nothing. It was time for a change in subject. “So the new guy’s an ass. That’s what you’re saying, huh?”
“Pretty much, but that’s his issue. I couldn’t give two shits if he wants to be a dick. As long as he’s as good in the OR as they say he is, and he teaches me what I need to know to get a fellowship, I’ll play the stupid game and kiss ass. I don’t care.”
Residency could have been the topic of a bad Lifetime movie about hazing, minus the drinking and branding. It started at the top and trickled down to interns, who took the brunt. Always. It was a vicious cycle of humiliation all in the name of “medical” training. It wasn’t right.
“It’s still not right, attending or not. No one’s that freaking special. He needs to get over himself. Remember that in a few years when you’re done with all your training and an attending,” I said, not believing for one second that Guy would turn into a stereotypical surgeon. He was better than that.
“Well, he must be doing something right. He’s what, like thirty-six and already fuckin’ Chief of Neuro. He’s published a shit load, and I think he’s even a spokesman for some of that new equipment they’re training us on.” Guy finished tinkering with my tablet and handed it back to me. Envy and determination were in his eyes.
Our moment was abruptly interrupted. “You can make that man spokesperson or spokesmodel for just about anything, and I’d buy it.” A sassy voice came out of nowhere. We both looked up at Leanne Crowley, a fifth floor nurse and frequenter of girl’s happy hour. She came out of nowhere.
“Really, Lee?” Guy’s voice deepened to a semi-growl and his expression resembled that of a jealous middle schooler.
“Yes, Dr. Hunter. Really. I’d even volunteer to be his test subject.” Leanne flashed her pearly whites and shrugged her shoulders. She knew just how to push Guy’s buttons.
Turning as quickly as she appeared, she walked away with an exaggerated shake of her hips. Guy’s eyes were crazy glued to her assets until she disappeared back into a patient’s room.
Not staring at Leanne was difficult. She wasn’t just girl next door pretty, she was full on stunning. Her legs started at her chin and she worked that classic Barbie doll figure, big boobs with non-existent hips. Her blonde hair bordered on platinum, a shade that didn’t exist in a box.
When Guy’s eyes finally rebounded back and realized I caught him checking her out, he raised his brow, screaming, can you blame me? Nope.
Before he drooled on himself or before my sudden onset of completely unfounded, unjustifiable, unexplainable jealousy clawed its way to the surface, I spoke. “Hey. Let’s run the list so I can go do what I do and not give Dr. Pompous another reason to piss all over the intern again. I hear there’s a limit on how many times you can change your scrubs.”
“When did you get so funny, doll?” Those dimples killed me.
Joking aside, Guy diligently walked me through the list of patients. Who was going home soon, who needed rehab, who was scheduled for the OR, and most importantly, an abbreviated Sanskrit-to-English translation of all the neuro terms that were completely foreign.
Just as we finished with business, something dawned on me. Thanks to Guy, my morning was not total shit. He completely changed the vibe; he fixed it and made it ... enjoyable, even. He let me sleep in, if you called five thirty sleeping in. He covered for me with the new chief and even waited around after rounds to help me out. My insides warmed a degree, nowhere near thawing, but I almost imagined what it would feel like to be with someone again. To trust someone again. To share that part of myself with someone again. Almost.