For his next throw, he steps closer. “You know,” he says, voice dropping, “I think I figured out my problem. My stance is all wrong. Maybe you could… help adjust it?”
Julian rolls his eyes from across the table. “Jeez, we should have invited someone from HR.”
Daniel grins wider. “Come on, Keller. Or are you jealous?” He darts his green eyes to mine. “You’re not complaining, are you?”
I shake my head, biting back a laugh. “Not yet.”
By the third throw, I’m feeling loose enough to meet his energy head-on. He brushes my arm as he reaches for the darts, and I tilt my chin toward him. “You sure you’re not just using me to distract you from your aim?”
“Depends. You like that?”
I smile, slow and unhurried. “Maybe a little.”
Glancing around, the group laughs. Someone shouts for a beer pong rematch. I’ve been doing this more and more, going out with the other residents, and it’s made me realize there’s something to being around people who get it. The schedule, the stress, your adrenaline spiking when the monitor flatlines. To them, it’s not an investment. Our day-to-day is the return. My career’s never been an investment, never something to put up short term for a more satisfying long-term lifestyle. It’s always been what I love to do.
“You were cool today,” I say to Daniel, almost reflexively. “You kept it together with that aggressive patient.”
There’s a pause before the table breaks into cheers. Marisol leans across, nearly spilling her drink. “That’s it, you’re buying the next round, girl!”
I groan, laughing. “Fine, fine.” I head toward the bar, weaving through bodies and the heat of too many people packed together. At the counter, the smell of liquor mixeswith freshly baked pizza and hot oil. The music pounds enough to shake the glasses hanging overhead.
Julian catches up halfway to the bar, sleeves rolled up, grin lopsided. “You lasted, what, twenty minutes before you had to talk shop?”
I arch a brow. “I guess.”
“Uh-huh.” He props an elbow on the counter beside me, the other hand dragging through his hair. The movement pulls his shirt tight across his chest, and a flash of ink peeks through the low neckline of his shirt. He still carries that faint hint of hospital grade soap, maybe I smell that way too.
“Still, it’s good to see you out and about,” he says.
The bartender lines up a row of shot glasses—rims glittering under the string lights above our heads.
“I’ve got it. Don’t miss your shot with Marisol,” I say, teasing.
The server pours silver tequila over the shot glasses. The liquid looks deceptively like water, but the smell gives it away. Julian picks up two shots and slides one toward me.
“Marisol will be there when I come back. Or she won’t. No sweat off my back either way.” He lifts one of the glasses, a soft, wordless toast that feels more like acknowledgment than celebration. “I’m enforcing the rules.”
We tilt our heads back at the same time, and the liquid burns down my throat.
I give Julian a dramatic tilt of my head. “Because you’re such a rule follower.”
He grins. “Hydration’s important.”
I shake my head, smiling. Behind us, someone cheers over a beer pong win, the sound spilling into the bar—bass thumping, glasses clinking. It’s perfectly right, being here, having fun, and yet the whole night pulses slightly offbeat under my skin. A messy heartbeat. Arrhythmic.
Julian bumps his shoulder into mine, casual, friendly butfamiliar enough that I lean into him. “So,” he says, “are there sparks with Danny-boy?”
The air leaving my lungs rattles with annoyance, but he doesn’t need words to know he’s close to hitting a nerve.
“I’m doing okay,” I say, instead of giving him the outburst he wants. “I’m not regretting breaking up with Nate.”
He watches me, eyes soft but sharp. “But?”
I sigh, rolling the shot glass between my palms. “But … it’s been a long time since I’ve slept alone beyond a night or two.”
Julian signals the bartender to refill our shots. When he turns to me, he’s grinning, slow and teasing. “Are you horny, Dr. Sunshine?”
“Ugh.” I jab an elbow into his ribs, but he doesn’t flinch. “If only you weren’t such an ass.”
