Beautifully Awake

cocky and started trying out different styles of arrogant. Not Guy, he was grounded and his patients adored him, especially the women whose panties seemed to melt when he flashed his dimple.

Let’s not forget charming. And although I wasn’t into him like that, or anyone for that matter, I wasn’t immune. He spoke fluent flirt, but his dialect was never offensive or distasteful. The way all the nurses looked at him, I’d bet money he was the lead in more than a few NC-17 daydreams. Oscar-worthy, no less.

Don’t get me wrong, if I were to consider abandoning my no-dating-at-work policy, hell, my no-dating-in- general policy, Dr. Hunter probably would have made the shortlist. But we were just friends. I was in no way ready to open myself up to anyone again, so I could just enjoy all things Guy. And there was a lot to enjoy.

“Switched with Martin. He loves that plastics shit, and I’d rather not waste a month doing facelifts and fucking boob jobs. Why? You sick of me yet?”

My grin felt permanently stitched on my face. “You kidding? That’s awesome, I’m psyched.” This news made my morning take a serious turn for the better.

“So you want me to run the list with you?” He reached for my tablet and accidentally grazed my side. Knowing Guy, it was probably not an accident.

He tapped the screen and the list of patients on the neuro service opened. The bottom right side of the screen glowed 6:38. The nurses’ station was still empty. The whole floor was empty.

“Where is everyone, what about rounds? When did it become okay to not be on time? Did I miss the memo somewhere?” My brain-to-mouth filter temporarily malfunctioned. “That’s really kind of ballsy for an intern, on the first day, no less. And he might be the attending, but it’s his first day too. What happened to professionalism? Hell, I’m only the case manager and I’m here on time. Forget that, I was early and latte-less.”

Guy struggled to contain his smirk. My uncharacteristic little tirade must have seriously amused him. Damn nervous energy, it needed a release and I chose now for some god-forsaken reason.

“Umm, we rounded about forty minutes ago.” The words had no sooner left his mouth when the rumble below fired and my blouse suctioned to my armpits. Time for new deodorant.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t worry, doll. I covered for ya.” Guy palmed my shoulder, which had zero effect in the calming department.

“Why didn’t anyone page me?” This made no sense.

“The new guy Colton wanted to be a dick and show off his first day as chief. He paged at five to get us all in early. I remembered you said you needed your alarm on some crazy max volume, so I figured you didn’t hear it. It was a bullshit move on his part anyway.”

He was right about the pager, it could have been a cricket in New Jersey. It had no chance of waking me up. He remembers that?

“I can’t believe you remembered that, but you should have called me!” That was dumb, Guy didn’t have my number. I didn’t have his either. We weren’t at that level yet. Shit. “Did anyone notice I wasn’t at rounds?” I rubbed my forehead and pinched my eyebrow. What did he say his name was, Colton? The last thing I needed was an arrogant brain surgeon thinking I was lazy on day one.

“Really, don’t sweat it. I told him one of the kids on peds broke your pager yesterday.” He flashed his dimples, and I suddenly felt a pang of guilt for being bitchy. It wasn’t Guy’s fault I needed a weapon of mass destruction to wake me and I slept through the page. “And be happy you got a few extra minutes of sleep and got to miss the lion pissing-on-his-territory display this morning.” He let out a deep chuckle. “I’m not a hundred percent, but I’m pretty sure the new intern, Petit, shit his pants. It was fucking ugly.”

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.

I needed out of my own head, and I didn’t want my inner debate sending Guy any wrong signals. “Hey, thanks a lot. I really appreciate your help. You rock.” I genuinely meant it.