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With another yawn, I followed Kimi through the hospital. Apparently, she was always this chipper. I’d never been a morning person. So, I trudged through the tour, happy that we stopped for coffee long enough that I could become a human again.
“This is so boring, right?” whispered another resident-hopeful. He was a tall white guy with loose blond curls and wide eyes the color of the Caribbean Sea.
I grinned. “So boring. As if we haven’t all seen a dozen of these hospitals.”
“All hospitals look the same.”
“Tell me about it.”
He held his hand out. “Cord.”
“Annie.”
We shook, and he winked at me before turning back to Kimi.
“When’s your interview?” Cord asked as we continued through the hospital.
I checked my phone. “In, like, three hours.”
“Mine too. Where else have you interviewed?”
“Oh God, so many places. Atlanta, Houston, Austin, D.C., Chicago…” I trailed off.
He nodded. “I’m from Atlanta. So, I interviewed there, too. Emory?”
“Yep. I liked their program.”
And suddenly, the tour was less boring. Cord and I compared all the programs that we’d been to. The ones he’d attended that I hadn’t, and vice versa.
By the time we had to head to our respective interviews, I’d had more fun than any of my other interviews. Not that other medical students were bland, but Cord was so much more outgoing, like me. He was definitely the kind of resident I’d want on my team to keep me up when we had to do morning shifts or overnights.
“I heard a few residents talking about going out to a bar nearby after dinner tonight. You interested?” Cord asked.
“Definitely. I only have a seven a.m. flight to catch. What could go wrong?”
He grinned. “Great. Let me get your number, and I can text you when we head out.”
We exchanged phone numbers, and he texted me a smiley face.
I held the phone up. “Got it.”
“Good luck. Not that you need it,” Cord said.
“You too.”
We parted as I headed down the hallway toward my impending interview. I already liked Dallas more than everywhere, except maybe Atlanta. That had been my top program before I got here. The benefit of Dallas was that it was only five hours from home and had a killer airport.
I stopped in front of my designated interview spot.
“Annie Donoghue,” a voice called.
I smoothed down my skirt and took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.
Dinner was a local taco shack that had to-die-for coconut-shrimp tacos. I hadn’t been sure that anywhere had this sort of food off the coast, but Dallas was proving me wrong.
When the rest of the residents showed up together, I flagged Cord down, and he took the seat next to me. Prisha and Cord’s resident, Taureen, slipped into the seats across from us. We spent the entire meal discussing our interviews and work and what came after this.
And after this, we were going a bar where Taureen promised we’d have the best night. “You all coming to JRs?”
Prisha wrinkled her nose and ran a hand back through her short, dark cut. “Count me out. Annie?”
“I’m in.”
“Come on, Prish. It’s right down the street.”
“You know I don’t dance,” Prisha said. “And my girlfriend is in town.”
“Tell Virginia to get her ass out here.”
Prisha sighed heavily but started texting her girlfriend to meet us at JRs. Most of the residents headed over to the bar, which was a hole in the wall not too far from the hospital. It was apparently everyone’s favorite spot and owned by a husband of one of the doctors. Jared Ross, i.e. JRs. The place was every bar I’d ever been to in—dark, loud music, and full of booze. I liked it.
I fell into the easy rhythm. Besides the one harried drink with Sutton last weekend, I hadn’t gone out just for fun since Christmas. I’d already had a pretty good tolerance, which I was thankful for. It meant I could have a few drinks and still be coherent. It was walking past a few drinks that was usually a problem for me.
And shots.
So many shots.
Cord pulled me onto the dance floor, and we danced to the rap music that blared through the speakers. He had great rhythm. Our bodies moved in time together. It was fun and mindless. And I wasn’t at all thinking about Jordan Wright back home.
Prisha waved us back over now that her girlfriend, Virginia, had arrived. I hadn’t known what to expect, but she was drop-dead gorgeous. The same light-brown skin as Prisha with long black curls and a body people would kill for.
More drinks.
More shots.
The evening blurred together. So much dancing and drinking and laughing. Everything was so much funnier.
“Picture,” I cried. “Everyone, get together.”
I held my phone aloft in front of all of us. Cord slipped an arm around my waist and leaned in close. Prisha and Virginia drew in. Taureen grabbed another group of residents. We all beamed at the photo.
