It’s after six when I walk through the door of my apartment. The old wooden floors creak with the weight of each step as I head for my bedroom to immediately rid myself of my scrubs and take a shower.
The low water pressure has always been a major frustration of mine with this apartment. Bryce and I had a nice starter apartment outside of the city with amazing landscaping and phenomenal water pressure.
I grab my leftover takeout from last night and place it in the microwave. Being a nurse is rewarding but leaves very little time or energy to cook your own dinners. I try to be good on my days off and try to put no pressure on myself after a shift.
The front door opens as I’m walking over to the couch with my food.
“I swear to God,” Kayla announces as she kicks off her shoes, “if one more man at that gym opens his mouth and ruins my fantasy, I’m switching to Pilates.”
I laugh as I take a seat on the couch. “That bad?”
She appears a second later, gym bag slung over one shoulder, ponytail half fallen, cheeks flushed. She drops the bag with a dramatic sigh. “Worse. Catastrophic.”
“Oh no. Not Gym Guy,” I say, pushing my fork into a piece of broccoli.
“Former Gym Guy,” she corrects. “He’s dead to me.”
I raise an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.
“Okay,” she says, collapsing onto the couch next to me. “So, you know how he’s been my muse? Tall, quiet, mysterious? All brooding glances and morally gray energy?”
I nod solemnly. “Obviously.”
“Well,” she continues, “turns out, the mystery was just … emptiness. I made the mistake of talking to him today.”
I wince. “What did he say?”
“He asked me if I believe the earth is flat too.” She pauses. “Then told me he’s a Leo, so obviously, commitment is hard for him.”
I snort. “That’s devastating.”
“And then”—she raises a finger, eyes wide— “he said reading is a waste of time.”
“Oh, absolutely not,” I say. “Straight to jail.”
“Right? My ovaries shriveled in real time.” She grabs the glass and takes a long drink. “So much for chapter twelve.”
“Guess you’ll need a new fictional obsession.”
“Ugh. Back to emotionally unavailable billionaires, I suppose.” She studies me over her shoulder, then shifts so she is facing me. “Okay, enough about my heartbreak. How was your first day?”
I hesitate, leaning back against the couch.
“It was … fine,” I say honestly. “Busy. Calm actually. Trudy’s exactly how I remembered her.”
Kayla smiles. “Of course she is.”
“I only had one patient. Stable. Nothing dramatic.” I shrug. “It felt good to be back on a floor. Different from the ER, but good.”
“And the doctors?” she asks, casual but curious.
“There was one,” I say. “Chief of oncology.”
“Hot?”
I roll my eyes. “Kayla.”
“What? It’s relevant.”
