Page 90 of Love Sick

He pauses while pulling his laptop from his bag to stare at me and lowers his voice. “Why didn’t you just tell me you were into Santini?”

A rush of cold sweeps through me. “What?”

“At Halloween—”

“I don’t remember Halloween,” I hiss. “Julian said Trevor kissed me.”

Asher’s expression clears. “Yeah. Santini almost knocked the guy out, and I kicked him out of my house.”

I touch his hand. “Thank you.”

“And then you threw yourself at Julian and told everyone you had sex with him.”

“What?” Glancing around, I’m relieved to find everyone else engrossed in their own conversations, including Julian at the end of the table.

Alesha rolls her eyes. “That’s not what happened.” She goes on to explain the real story, the joke I made, and my insides unclench in relief.

“Whatever.” Asher flips open his laptop. “You should have just told me.”

“Told youwhat?”

“That you’re hot for Santini.”

“I’m not—”

Alesha squeezes my hand and gives her head a subtle shake. She pulls out her phone. Mine buzzes.

Alesha:You know you are. Just let him be mad. He’ll get over it.

Why does Asher even care? I stare at him a moment, then glance at his hairy legs. “Wait. Are you wearing cut-off scrubs?”

Asher’s face tightens. “My legs get hot sometimes.”

“But—” I point at his feet “—you paired them with cowboy boots.”

His gaze lands on me, and his tone finally morphs into its usual good humor. “I will not be shamed for the cowboy boots.”

My laughter dies off when Dr. Chen seats himself for morning announcements. He mentions that the yearly interviews to select new residents are coming up in a few weeks. Unlike previous years, which were performed only by attendings, all residents are expected to participate, even those on nights. I groan inwardly, exchanging sad faces with Alesha.

“Do you think they assume we turn into robots who don’t have feelings or need sleep when we become residents?” Alesha murmurs.

I tally the time in my head. “That’s forty-two straight hours. How are we supposed to do that?”

She shrugs. “Meth?”

After the first hour of didactics, night residents are allowed to leave, so Alesha and I hightail it to our cars. After pecking her on the cheek, I peel out of the parking lot and jam to T. Swift the whole way home.

That night, Julian is especially tired at checkout.

Huddled together in our tiny call room, I nudge his knee with my own. “What’s wrong?”

He shrugs. “Narayan. Nothing is ever good enough for her.” He rubs his face. “Also, my med student is an idiot who checked the wrong hole after she asked me to practice cervical exams, so the fallout from that was really fun to deal with.”

I burst into giggles. “The wrong hole?”

“Yes,” he says with great emphasis. “And I have this multiple-personalities patient who keeps coming to triage for the same complaints because her personalities don’t communicate with one another. I’ve had to give labor precautions to the woman six different times today.”

“That poor girl!”

---