Page 408 of The Doctors Will See You Now

“Cool,” Jorge responded from the other side of the door. “Shouldn’t take more than ten, fifteen minutes tops.”

Just a sec? Holy fucking hell. I’d love to meet the human beings who could achieve getting dressed and removing the scent of sex from the air in the matter of just a fucking sec.

I shoved Nick out of the way, hopped off the desk, yanked up my panties, and glanced around the room like a lunatic. I needed a place to hide. Anywhere. It didn’t matter. Just somewhere that I could hide and get myself back together while Jorge the cameraguy shot live footage of Nick at his desk.

I didn’t mind the reality docuseries, but I didn’t exactly want to be filmed mere minutes after engaging in sex. I mean, a girl had some fucking boundaries, ya know?

While Nick hurriedly zipped up his pants, tucked his shirt back in, and did his best to hide his giant sword of an aroused cock beneath his clothes, I stood frozen in my spot, halfway between the door and the desk. I felt like a caged animal that was ready to climb the walls any second.

Where could I hide without the cameraguy realizing that I’m here?

Fucking hell. I had zero clue. His office was spacious, but it wasn’t that spacious. My only options for hiding included his desk, his chair, and the stupid plant in the corner of the room.

“It’s fine, Char,” Nick whispered. “Just fix your clothes, sit down, and don’t worry about the cameraguy.”

“But this could look bad,” I whispered back.

He shook his head. “It’s fine. Promise.” But I wasn’t so sure I believed him as I witnessed the slight shake of his fingers as he handed me my discarded t-shirt and adjusted my skirt back into place.

After a soft kiss to my lips, he gently ushered me toward the leather sofa at the far corner of his office. “We have nothing to worry about, okay?”

I simply nodded for lack of anything better to do.

But the second he opened the office door and let Jorge into the room, I wasn’t all that sure everything was okay. The way the cameraguy’s gaze assessed the small space gave me an uneasy feeling inside my gut. It was heavy like a rock, weighing down my stomach with a persistence I couldn’t ignore.

Had he overheard us?

How long had he been standing outside of Nick’s office?

“Hey, Jorge,” Nick greeted. His easy smile and relaxed shoulders helped relieve some of the anxiety lurking inside of my chest. “I hope you don’t mind, but we were just getting ready to eat some lunch.”

Jorge set his camera gear on the floor and gestured with a nonchalant hand in Nick’s direction. “No worries, dude. I can work on setting up the lighting while you enjoy your lunch.”

Wait…did he just insinuate something?

I glanced up to meet Jorge’s eyes, but he had already begun to busy himself with pulling his equipment out of his black travel bags. And when I moved my gaze to Nick’s, he appeared completely unaware of anything weird.

I’m just being crazy, I told myself. He probably didn’t overhear anything.

I wasn’t sure I actually believed it, but I reminded myself this was a docuseries about Nick’s medical career, not the hospital version of The Real World.

Arms swinging and a new tune on my lips, I hummed and whistled to the beat of Charlotte’s current jam, “Despacito” by Luis Fonsi featuring Justin Bieber.

As should have been obvious by my debut trivia night, I wasn’t much in the way of pop culture news. But Charlotte had been forcing me to study—and making me accompany her to the Cornerstone for the past three Wednesday nights to rub salt into our failure-prone wounds—and I knew enough to comprehend that I was walking around, humming something that had to do with Justin Bieber, and it was enough to produce fodder in the hospital for years to come.

Oh, shit. Especially since I still had a camera following me around.

I stopped humming immediately and looked back right into the lens—and then past it to Jorge. He was smiling.

Fucking bastard.

I’d been watching Will Cummings and Scott Shepard and their cameramen every time our paths crossed in the hospital since filming started, and their relationships were completely different. They talked and advised, offering questions that a viewer might have so that Will and Scott could better answer.

But not Jorge. He just watched and observed, smirking anytime I made an unsuspecting fool of myself and abstaining from offering anything helpful at all. I didn’t know if it was just his personality or a tactic the show specifically used for me, but it was playing a mind game with me. And these days, I made an unsuspecting fool of myself often. I hadn’t expected to get used to the camera so quickly, but it’d happened nonetheless.

I guess it was like a construction worker getting used to loud noises or a parent getting used to the constant chatter of their child. After a while, you just tuned it out.

Something I wasn’t yet used to, however, was narrating every play of my day to what felt like no one. “So we’re heading down to the recovery floor to make rounds,” I explained for the sake of the silent camera behind me, glancing back to the lens every few seconds as I walked. “The biggest challenge post-op is to watch for signs of altered brain state, while at the same time allowing a somewhat loosened parameter of normal. These people have literally been through brain surgery, and even at best, it can be a traumatic experience for the body. The brain is the hub, just like the motherboard of your computer. And the motherboard doesn’t even like a little water poured on it, even if it really is just a little, and even if you do your very best to dry it out.”