Ugh.
So many double entendres there.
Without releasing me, she says, “You won’t spare my feelings like Asher would. This will help us both.”
Neither of us let go. Our connected hands fall to the concrete between us. She doesn’t pull away.
Why isn’t she pulling away?
Why don’t I?
We’re holding hands, half-naked. My brain short-circuits again.
This unrequited attraction to her is disastrous for my self-esteem, and now I’ll spendmoretime in close proximity to her, constantly reminded of how—surgical skills notwithstanding—she’s smarter and more competent than me and so fucking beautiful it makes my head hurt.
When did I develop this self-destructive streak? She’s a wildfire, but I’m running straight toward her, knowing she’ll destroy me.
We both stare down at our joined hands, and like a masochist, I slowly lace our fingers, one by one. She doesn’t stop me.
Why doesn’t she stop me?
Her tiny hand fits in mine like it belongs there.
She clears her throat, breaking the spell, then murmurs something about being hot. She slips into the water again, escaping my grasp.
Yep.
I’m doomed.
* * *
The only difference between intern year on June 30th and second year on July 1st is my medical license—and the fact that all my shifts are worked without a senior resident. I’m alone now, and my first twenty-four-hour shift by myself in the middle of July is a sleep-deprived marathon of reminders that I’m not ready to be by myself.
“The baby’s in the sixties, Dr. Santini…”
“She’s bleeding, Dr. Santini…”
“Methergine or Hemabate, Dr. Santini…”
“You forgot to put in orders, Dr. Santini…”
Maxwell is the only reason I’m able to survive the first part of the shift, but then he reminds me he’s on vacation, and to leave him alone, so I switch to Pit It or Quit It.
Me:What is the dose of Methergine?
Sapphire :0.2mg IM
Me:That’s what I told them! They acted like I was an idiot.
Me:Morphine safe in 2nd tri yes?
Sapphire :Yes.
Me:Patient ate eleven Big Macs. Now vomiting profusely. Zofran?
Kai:wtf is happening.
Sapphire :Yes, zofran fine.