Page 2 of Anatomy of a Meet Cute
“Oh. The attendant said a man in sunglasses needed help.” The heat in her body kicked up a notch, and no amount of additional poolside tan was going to save her from the visible humiliation flooding her face.
“And you thought it was me?” Mr.Sexy Not Ambien looked incredulous.
“Well, you were struggling with your—”
“It’s here,” Man Bun whispered to the terrified-looking woman across from him.
Taking a deep breath, Sam stood abruptly as Mr.Sexy Not Ambien leaned into the aisle to get a good look at the guy, then looked up at her as if she were less useful than a box of weasels. Whatever—the good-looking dude could be offended. Right now she had an actual patient. Giving the man a curt wave, she said, “My apologies.”
Taking two quick strides toward Man Bun, who had started buckling and unbuckling his belt, Sam dredged up her very best calming voice, again, and said, “Hello, how are you feeling?”
The man looked up at her wildly, pushing his mirrored aviator sunglasses onto the top of his head. “Do you see it?”
“Can you tell me what you’re seeing?” Sam asked, hoping to get a sense of what the man was experiencing so she could start calming him down.
“My face is pixelated. My whole body is.” He had the nerve to look at her as if she were completely stupid for not seeing it. And Sam did feel a little stupid. Hallucinations could be caused by anything, and she was no closer to soothing the man than she had been when she was talking to Mr.Sexy Not Ambien.
“Can you tell me if you ate or drank anything out of the ordinary before boarding the plane?”
The man looked up at her and winked. “Why should I tell you?”
Gross. Sam sighed, placing her hand on the back of the man’s chair and giving his gold-and-black brocade blazer a once-over. He looked like the kind of nightclub promoter who lied about having a private jet to impress bumpkins from out of state.
“I want to help you, but ...” Sam paused as a seat belt unbuckled. The man wiggled his eyebrows, then seemed to remember that his skin was loading slowly and began pressing on either elbow in short, jerky bursts.
“Sir. Can you please tell us what you ingested? You’re not in trouble.” A voice rang out, causing Sam to jump. She turned to see Mr.Sexy Not Ambien standing directly over her shoulder, looking put upon in one of those magical black T-shirts that managed to hug the chest but not look tight.
“What are you doing?” Sam asked. It was one thing for Mr.Sexy Not Ambien to observe a medical emergency. It was another thing for him to steal her line and impersonate a care provider. She was already not an emergency medicine doctor; the last thing she needed was someone who wanted to play one on TV jumping in to try to be “helpful.”
“My job.”
Just my luck.She would have two delusional people on one flight. “Could you please sit down?” Sam hissed, running out of patience. This guy was not helping. If anything, he was making the patient more antsy, and she’d just been starting to establish ... well, nothing, but he was still in her way.
“I’m a doc-tor,” the guy said like she was dense.
“Then why didn’t you ring the call button?”
“Noise-canceling headphones,” Mr.Sexy Not Ambien said, pointing to where the headphones hung around his neck.
“Is he a Fed?” Man Bun interrupted their conversation, loudly addressing his question to Sam. This was not how she’d imagined helping someone in need on a plane.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent into San Francisco. The flight attendants will be coming through the cabin shortly to collect any remaining service items. If you could please help us out by ...” Sam, Mr.—no, Dr.—Sexy Not Ambien, and Man Bun all stopped to listen to the announcement, as if someone had hit pause on the entire bizarre scenario.
“Is that God?” Man Bun asked as soon as the attendant uttered their final thank-you.
“No, sir,” both Sam and Dr.Sexy Not Ambien said at the same time. Sam sighed, looking down at the man and over at the new doctor. What was she doing here? Maybe her mother was right and she had no business becoming a doctor, let alone a researcher. Almost any other doctor was more qualified to deal with the hallucinating club kid. Looking back at the other doctor, Sam watched as he scrubbed his hand down the back of his close-cropped black hair, and she prepared to come clean about being a researcher. Better to admit that she spent more time behind a desk, hunched over journal articles, than in the emergency room.
“You know what—” Sam began at the same time Dr.Sexy Not Ambien began to speak.
“I’m sorry.”
For a moment, the pair blinked at one another. Sam watched as the guy exhaled, a half smile tracing the left side of his face. “I interrupted you just now. I’m sorry for that and for butting in. This guy is all yours. Let me know if I can help.”
With that, Dr.Sexy Not Ambien rolled his shoulders and turned to go back to his seat, leaving Sam slightly stunned.
“I just need my face to load,” Man Bun whispered, snapping Sam out of her trance and back into the very real present.
Looking from the man to Dr.Sexy Not Ambien, Sam made a snap judgment. “Uh, Doctor?” Watching him turn around, Sam tried to ignore the tired expression on his face.
