“You needed a minute? Or forty-three minutes?” There wasn’t anounceof amusement on her face as she glared at me through the mirror.
I capped the lipstick carefully and set it on the counter like it required surgical precision. My pulse still hadn’t settled. My skin still felt too aware of itself. “I lost track of time.”
A soft, humorless laugh echoed against the tile. “Yes, yes, you did.” I met her eyes in the mirror then. She was leaning against the door, arms crossed, expression unreadable. “They called your name,” she said. “Twice.”
My stomach dipped; the joy and pride of learning I’dwonwas enormous. “So I heard,” I lied, tucking my lipstick away. I’d… missed it. One of the biggest moments of my career as a med student so far, and I’d spent it getting fucked in a linen closet.
And yet… why wasn’t Imoreupset about it?
“You weren’t there.” I tried to ignore the disappointment in Liza’s words. We’d known each other a long time. She’d worked the day shift as a nurse when I started, and we just… clicked. It was an instant,easyfriendship.
ThenJeremeymade her switch to night so their schedules were the same. And all I’d try to tell her was that it made more sense for a part-time bartender to find a new job instead of asking one of the most crucial nurses to leave a gap in the day shift.
Liza had been upset with me then. But gracious enough not to bring up myownswitch to night shifts since then. “I was nearby.”
“Define nearby.” She prodded, taking half a step forward. The downside to working with someone I was so close to… when things likethishappened, there wasn’t much I could do to avoid it.
I turned fully now, folding my arms as I leaned back against the countertop. “You’re being dramatic.”
“And you’re glowing.” Heat crept up my neck as I avoided her gaze once more. “I would’ve liked to see your face when they handed it to you,” she said finally. Quieter. “That’s all.”
Something inside me softened. “I didn’t think I’d win, Liz, really.”
“Yes, you did. Even Vaughn said it. You were the ideal candidate, An.” Her lips ticked up into a soft smile.
It was all I could do not to blanch at his name. Did she know? “I really didn’t expect to.”
“You still should’ve been there.”
I looked down at my hands. They weren’t steady. Not yet. “I was… distracted.”
Her eyebrow lifted. Just slightly. “Yes. You were.”
I shot her a look. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.” But her eyebrow was quirked. But there was a slight curve to her smile that said otherwise.
“You don’t have to.” She pushed off the door and crossedthe room slowly, stopping at the sink beside me. Close enough that our shoulders almost touched. “I saw you leave,” she said lightly.
“That proves nothing.” I spluttered, heat beat accelerating. “I needed a minute.”
“And just before that…someone elseleft.” I did my best to rein my face back in. “And then,” she continued, “you both came back,separately,looking like you’d run a marathon in formal wear.”
“Maybe we took the stairs.”
“Maybe you did.” Her grin only deepened. “Separately, of course.”
Our eyes met in the mirror again. There it was — the knowing. The piece of our friendship that had always existed without language. “I’m not confirming whatever story you’ve written in your head,” I said evenly.
“You don’t have to.” A beat. “It looked… intense.”
I swallowed. “It wasn’t?—”
She held up a hand. “Relax. I’m not judging you.”
“You sound like you’re judging me.”
“I’m not.” Her mouth twitched. “I’m a little impressed.” I huffed out a breath before laughing slightly at how much I sounded like a child. “They called you up there,” she said again, softer now. “And you weren’t there to take it.”
