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It feels so natural sitting here right now. Exactly what I needed.
How did I go so long through this life without Lucy?
Lucy
Monday, January 29, 1:42 p.m.
From PlainJane2 to GothamGuardian5:
Dearest Man Mentor, I’m in quite the pickle. I think I’m falling for someone.
From GothamGuardian5 to PlainJane2:
How mayest I help thee, oh mighty Plain Jane?
Okay. Yeah, I’ll stop that.
What makes you think you’re falling? Can you not get back up? Yeah. That might be the dumbest joke I’ve ever made. If you’re reading this, I hit send before really thinking it through.
From PlainJane2 to GothamGuardian5:
I hate that I snort laughed at that.
I don’t know. I just have feelings. Lots of them. I can’t stop thinking about this person.
From GothamGuardian5 to PlainJane2:
I’d say that’s a good sign that you’re falling.
I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S BEEN nearly a month since I started this challenge. I’ve tried things I’ve never done before, done things I haven’t done in years, and finally swam again. I’ve spent time with family and discovered some things I’m good at. I’ve also found some things I’m ... not so good at, which I don’t really like at all.
Oh, and I also think I’m falling big-time for Graham. So ... that’s something.
Is that what’s happening? Is it love? What do I even know? Maybe it’s just lust. Or a very strong crush. Or possibly some sort of virus that I can hope will go away in a couple of weeks? Does it even work like that?
What is love anyway? Is it thinking about someone constantly, wanting to share every little part about yourself with them, wishing you were with them all the time? Because if so, then I’m screwed.
In a matter of weeks, he’s become my best friend, the person I want to spend all my time with, the one whose opinion I care most about.
The crappiest part is, I don’t think it’s reciprocated. Not the love (if that’s what this is) part, at least. I know he cares about me; I think he might even find me attractive. I know he likes to be around me. No one spends that much time with someone they don’t want to be around.
I’m having a hard time concentrating at work right now with him only feet away from me in his office. Would it be weird if I just went in there, shut the door, and kissed his face off? Would he reciprocate? Morgan’s words from the other night and the picture Graham sent her play over and over again in my head.
I puff air out of my cheeks as I sit in the empty nurses’ station. Pam is on her lunch break, and Evie is doing ... whatever Evie does. I stare at my computer screen after updating the medical history for the patient in room seven, a pregnant woman who came in with some mild spotting. Good news: After an ultrasound, baby looks to be doing just fine, and mom will need to be on bed rest until she can see her obstetrician. It’s been a long night, though. Just a few hours left before I can go home and get some sleep.
The doors to the ER swing open, and a huffing Evie practically runs in.
“Lucy,” she says, her breaths heavy. “We’ve got a young woman, mid-teens, involved in a car accident coming in. EMT thinks it’s a back or spinal injury. Prep room four and let Dr. Shackwell know.”
“Of course,” I say, springing to action.
I knock on the door of the office Graham occupies while he’s working.
“Dr. Shackwell?”
“Come in,” he says, his rich tone easily heard through the door. It makes my stomach do a little tumble, even with the urgent adrenaline coursing through my body. He gives me a broad smile when he sees me.
“We’ve got a patient coming in,” I say, and then give him the details Evie just shared.
