"I know, Amy. I saw it. You saw it. I think the entire emergency department saw it. I don't think it was possible for anyone to miss that girl's pooper."
"How big is her baby daddy's dick to stretch her rectum out like that? And this brings a whole new meaning to the Shocker. Two in the pink and a fist to her stink." Amy is grinning from ear to ear.
"You are hilarious but extremely perverse. You know that right?" I'm barely able to hold back laughter at her new take on the Shocker.
"There is no way that girl ever gets constipated. I bet her shit just falls right out. How many times do you think she's crapped herself laughing?" Amy jokes as the elevator door opens, and an unsuspecting elderly couple overhears her.
"All right, I get it. You've got at least one thousand more random jokes and things to stay in regards to that girl's gaping asshole, but you're going to have to hold it in until we get home. I'm running to the cafeteria to grab a quick bite to eat. I will meet you in the breakroom in like fifteen minutes. Please no more asshole talk over lunch," I beg quietly before walking towards the hospital cafeteria.
"Speaking of holding in it! I bet I know someone who CAN'T possibly do that!" she yells to me as I walk away. I just shake my head and keep walking. I know she's hilarious, but I also know that if I give her an inkling of an idea that I'm finding any of this funny, she won't stop. After seeing Mrs. Forgets To Poop and that girl with the gaping asshole in the span of one hour, my brain is completely over hearing or seeing anything ass related.
The hospital cafeteria is unbelievably crowded because it's exactly noon and everyone, including staff and visitors, are here for lunch. I quickly get in line and grab a tray to collect my food. Regency's hospital food isn't all that bad compared to most hospitals. I mean, it's not nearly as good as a nice steak dinner, which I've been craving for the past week, but it's definitely consumable. I order a grilled chicken sandwich and grab a bag of chips.
I'm a freak for honey mustard and make sure to grab a handful of condiment packets. If I could live with only one condiment for the rest of my life, I'd choose honey mustard, hands down, not even a contest. I could eat that special sauce with a spoon. If you know someone who doesn't like honey mustard, don't trust them with anything because they must be certifiably crazy. There is something seriously wrong with a person who doesn't enjoy that tangy, sweet taste of deliciousness.
Honey mustard, have I told you I'm in love with you?
Yes, I'm talking to my condiment packets.
I head back to the emergency department breakroom and am nearly blown away at the surprise visitor I come across. Trent is sitting across from Amy as she animatedly talks about our recent delivery experience today. He gives me a genuine, breath-taking smile when his eyes glance up and see me.
Oh man, he looks good.
Too good.
Trent is dressed in navy blue scrubs, and he still has his surgery cap tied around his head. His biceps are practically bulging out of his scrub top. I can't help but get pulled in by his eyes. They are as blue as the sky with dark lashes framing their beauty. I notice slight dark circles and two-day-old scruff, and I'm assuming he is probably on a twenty-four-hour stretch of no sleep. I know he'd had a grueling call schedule for the past few days, and I have a feeling he has spent most of his time in the OR.
I set my tray on the table and sit down next to Trent while Amy continues to talk all things assholes. He is amused with her enthusiasm and quick wit, every so often giving a husky laugh.
Oh the things that man's deep, sexy voice does to my brain.
As I start to dig into my lunch, Trent grabs the side of my chair and pulls me closer so our knees are touching. He plants a soft kiss on my cheek and whispers, “Hi,” into my ear. I look into his baby blues, and the ridiculous grin on my face is probably giving away the fact that I'm thrilled to see him.
"You two are sickeningly sweet together, you know that?" Amy interjects with an amused expression.
I just smile back at her, and I can tell by the look on her face that she is truly happy for me. Amy has seen me at my worst, and I can imagine it's a relief to see someone put a smile on my face the way Trent does. I open at least five packets of honey mustard as I prepare to eat my grilled chicken sandwich. I take a bite and practically moan when my taste buds are bathed in sweet and tangy condiment heaven.
I look up to see Trent intently looking at me.
"You want a bite?" I hold out my sandwich for him.
"Fuck, I thought you'd never ask." He opens another packet of honey mustard and dips my chicken sandwich into it before taking a big bite. "Is there anything better than honey mustard?" he asks me with a grin.