Page 29 of Venus
Just leaves.
I stand pressed against a shelf of newborn diapers, trying to remember how to do my job. My scrubs are rumpled and my heart continues to race as I straightenthem out. I smooth down my hair before randomly grabbing a few supplies and stepping back into the hallway just like he did.
Like nothing happened. Like he didn’t just completely wreck me.
As soon as I leave the closet, the world returns to normal. Nurses share updates, monitors are beeping, supervisors make small talk. Callie offers me half of her granola bar.
I find a random room and deliver the blanket to the new mother, and she thanks me for being so thoughtful and thinking of her. I smile with masterful deception, accepting her appreciation as if my actions truly were altruistic.
The next room over, I watch as an overly-cautious couple changes their new baby’s diaper, asking if they’re doing it right every five seconds. Then I move on. Chart. Answer phones. Check on mothers. Pretend my skin isn’t on fire and Carter isn’t on my mind.
Pretend like I can’t hear him whispering in my ear.
Hours later, at the very end of my shift, I finally take a seat at the nurse’s station. I’m exhausted, but somehow dying for attention from a certain firefighter.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
Speak of the devil.
Carter: Worth it?
I stare at his name for a second, then answer.
Me: Maybe.
Me: I think we should try it again, just to be sure.
Chapter 16 | Venus
The next time I see Carter, we’re with the whole crew. Callie, Jackson, Trevor, and a mixture of hospital staff and firefighters. We’re loud, but that’s just because we know how to have a good time. We crowd into the parking lot of an old bowling alley on the edge of town.
Whoever decided that a glitchy, sticky arcade filled with neon signs should get stuck to a bowling alley with pins that look like they’ve been scavenged from a dumpster?
Genius.
Sure, maybe the bathrooms are gross enough to make you hold your bladder the whole night and maybe there’s a rat the size of a baby lingering somewhere in the kitchen, but this is the kind of place where real memories are made.
I’ve traded in my crop tops and denim shorts for leggings and a sweater. Still got my boots, though.
Mostly to protect my feet from whatever diseases are multiplying in the old carpet. This place has scarier floors than the hospital.
Carter and I slide in behind everyone else, not in any rush. We’ve got all night. Three whole days of no shifts, no commitments, and I couldn’t be more excited about it.
Carter and I have been texting a ton since he jumped me in the supply closet at work, and I find myself missing him when he’s busy.
Missing him a lot.
Silence without him is so uncomfortable. It’s got this tension to it that I’m not sure I like. But as soon as I saw him across the parking lot, stepping out of his old truck and meeting my eyes, I felt…okay. Normal. At peace.
Inside the arcade, the group naturally splits into smaller groups. Some go to the bar. Some go to grab shoes and a bowling lane. Others exchange their loose bills for arcade tokens.
Naturally, the boys insist they can dominate anyone at skee-ball. Men seem to think that about anything that requires low brain power, zero strategy, and a big ego.
They’re gonna learn today.
I slide a few tokens into the machine, tie up my hair, and grab a ball. I lightly toss it into the air in challenge. “Y’all ready to get humbled?”
Callie gives me a knowing smirk. Trevor rolls his eyes like I’ve personally insulted every ounce of masculinity in his steroid-pumped muscles. Jackson snickers like he thinks my bravery’s cute.
