Page 21 of Love Sick

Julian:Do I have to? ICU rotation is sucking the life from my soul. I need sleep.

Alesha:Yes. You have to.

Julian:Fine. But you aren’t getting charming Julian.

Staring at my phone, I snort so loud that Aislin asks me if something is wrong.

In my world, Julian Santini doesn’t have a charming side. He’s so un-charming that my ovaries cross themselves from fear whenever he’s close, despite his tingle-inducing stare and touchable jawline.

He’s proof that vile things can wrap themselves in glitzy, distracting packages.

I’ve begrudgingly accepted him as part of my friend group, but he isn’t myfriend. He’s an unavoidable evil that exists in the background of my life. Like elevator music.

I’d rather Julian didn’t show at dinner tonight—especially if he’s grumpy—but even if he does, no version of him can be worse than what I’ve already experienced.

At lunch, I sit with Aislin and one of her best friends—an internal med resident. She’s the chief on ICU, so we’re surrounded by residents from her department, most of whom I’ve never met.

I keep to myself as they chat, but a voice behind me makes my neck twitch. That elevator music grows a bit louder.

“It’s really not a problem, Rebecca,” Julian says. “I’m happy to help.”

He and a blond girl approach our table, both in navy scrubs and white coats. His smile is friendly and bright.

She melts as she stares at him. “But they were so heavy. Seriously, Julian. Thank you.”

“What’d he do?” Aislin mumbles around a mouthful of apple—the only edible option in the hospital cafeteria today.

“Oh, he helped me take all those copies ofHarrison’sto the clinic.” Blondie beams at Julian. “All thirty of them.”

Aislin laughs. “Aren’t those books like fifteen pounds each?”

My blood slowly turns to battery acid, and I’m sure I’m shooting daggers his way. This is the worst part of hating him—everyone else loves him. To others, he’s polite and pleasant. Hard worker. Never complains. Kind.

Almost makes me wish we didn’t start on the wrong foot.Almost. Not quite, though. I’ve seen his dark side.

Aislin gives him a teasing punch on the arm. “Such a gentleman, Dr. Santini.”

Julian’s gaze touches on me, but skirts right past. “I try.”

“Not that hard,” I mutter with a snort.

He doesn’t hear me. Or maybe he ignores me. Who cares?

When he leaves, Rebecca flutters. “Isn’t he so nice?” She sighs, already half in love.

I swallow down the taste of vomit in my mouth to smile like I agree.

She perks up. “Do you have his number?”

A gleeful witch inside cackles as I give it to her, casually mentioning that he’s really into texting all day to chitchat. And cat memes.

End of shift rolls around, and I shuffle to the call room to sign the patients out to the second-year resident, Lexie Zavanelli. Aislin gives me a “Good work today” before she leaves, and I take my time gathering my materials. Our call room is cluttered with books and surgical instruments, but it boasts a full-size bed previous residents stole from the neonatologist’s call room when they closed the NICU a few years ago. Lexie curls up in it as I shove papers into my backpack.

“I hope I get some sleep tonight,” she says.

“Nothing’s active. The odds are in your favor.”

“Yeah. I’m not looking forward to busy nights at Vincent.”

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