Page 1 of Trick or Treat Nurse at My Feet
Prologue: What the Hell is Vasovagal, Anyway?
TYLER
Tossing my backpack onto the bench I check my phone again. Gavin is twenty minutes late, which is pretty standard for him. Guy has the time management skills of a golden retriever who's discovered squirrels exist.
"Come on, man," I mutter, scanning the quad for his giant frame.
After being stuck in Environmental Engineering lectures all morning, the afternoon sun feels good on my face. I tilt my head back, close my eyes for a moment, and let myself think about what's been on my mind for weeks.
I broke up with Cher a month ago. It was the right call; I knew it. She was angry at me for it, but her parting words keep echoing: "You never seemed fully there, Tyler."
She wasn't wrong. I've spent three years trying to be the perfect boyfriend to different women, and something always felt... incomplete. Two beers into a late-night conversation with myself, I finally admitted the truth: I notice men. Like,noticethem.
I've decided I'm done pretending. If I see a guy I'm into,I'm going to act on it. No more questioning, no more lying to myself.
My phone buzzes.
Gavin
Running late. Coach wanted to talk about Saturday. 10 mins.
My eyes roll so hard.
Make it five or I'm leaving
As I'm putting my phone away, the doors to the Health Sciences building swing open, and a group of students in blue scrubs spill out into the sunshine. My eyes automatically drift over them, then stop.
And I swear to God, the world slows down.
There's a guy, slender, with this reddish-blonde hair catching the sunlight, demonstrating something with his hands. Whatever he's saying has the whole group cracking up. His face is animated, and I can't look away from his smile. It's not just nice, it's radiant.
Without thinking, I stand up. My body seems to have its own agenda because suddenly I'm walking toward him like there's a tractor beam pulling me forward.
As I get closer, I can make out more details. Green eyes. A light dusting of freckles across his nose. And his mouth. Jesus, his mouth. Full lips that curve up at the corners even when he's not fully smiling. I've never stared at another guy's mouth like this, never wondered what it would feel like against mine.
He's gesturing wildly now, explaining something that has his friends doubling over. "So then the attending asks me to hold pressure while he runs to get another clamp, andI'm standing there with this arterial bleeder basically pulsing between my fingers, and all I can think is?—"
I'm close enough to hear his voice now. It's warm, with a hint of rasp, and something in my chest tightens.
He steps away from his group, turning to grab his backpack, when he notices something about his shoe. He puts his foot up on a low garden wall to retie his laces, and the movement pulls his scrubs tight across his ass.
And I nearly swallow my tongue.
I should turn around. I should definitely not be standing here staring at his ass like a creep. But my feet won't move, my brain won't work, and all I can think iswho IS this guy?
He straightens, still talking over his shoulder to his friends. "I'll email you the study guide tonight! Don't let Morgan convince you that septic shock isn't on the exam; it definitely is!"
Then he turns and walks directly into me.
He stumbles a bit, looking up with startled eyes. This close, they're impossibly green, like actual emeralds or something equally poetic that I'd never say out loud.
"Whoa, sorry! You okay?" His voice washes over me, and my brain completely flatlines.
" I-uh—sorry," I manage to stammer. "My fault. Totally wasn't looking. Well, I was looking, but not... I mean..."
He tilts his head slightly, studying me with curious eyes and the hint of an amused smile. "No harm done. You might want to pick a less-trafficked area to daydream next time."
I should say something witty. Something charming. Anything coherent would be a win at this point.
