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A stop to time and thought and a powerful lesson in the influence of one simple look.
I was mesmerized.
And then mayhem exploded all at once.
Not as prepared for the exchange as we’d both assumed she was, the cup slipped in her grip and panic suffused her eyes.
As a football player, I was familiar with the slow-motion replay after the action—the one that perfectly pointed out your flawed split-second decision-making—and if there were an ESPN for drug testing, this little ditty would have had prime placement on the highlight reel.
Desperate to stop the cup’s descent, she clenched the fingers of her hand quickly, but the force of her reaction only made it worse. Grazing off the cup like a bat on a ball, it sent the specimen flying. The damn thing arced through the air back toward me and shot the pee, my pee, out in a monotoned rainbow of fucking disgust.
I jumped back from the tidal wave, but she carried on, lunging for the cup like her life and pride depended on it.
Once, twice, her hand made contact, but after a bobble, a wobble, and an unwelcome hand-bath, the writing was on the wall.
And my piss was on the floor.
Fuck.
“Oh my God,” she said, the pitch of her voice rapidly approaching a level only dogs could hear.
My heart bounced in my chest as my brain tried to catch up with the fact that she’d literally just spilled my pee all over herself, but it was a losing battle. The carnage of reality was too unexpected.
“Christ,” I muttered involuntarily. Her already manic eyes went wider, and I finally found it in me to sound a little less harsh. God, she must be mortified. “Are you okay?”
“Oh? Me? This?” she blathered, circling a gloved hand above the puddle on the floor in between us and the now urine-soaked legs of her scrub pants. “Totally cool. I’ll just…uh…”
I looked around as she did, following her around the room like a ping-pong ball, and finally interjected when she didn’t finish the thought.
“You want me to try to find you a mop or something?”
“A mop? What do I need a—?” She paused before devolving into a nervous, high-pitched giggle. “Oh yeah. To clean up. Your pee that I just dropped.” Her head fell back, and her eyes turned skyward. “Kill me now.”
I laughed at that, stepping around the puddle between us and awkwardly rubbing a comforting hand down her thankfully dry back.
“Hey, I’m sure it happens all the time.”
“Oh yeah. This is a regular after school special.”
Glancing up briefly to meet my eyes as I put a little more pressure on my comforting stroke, she clenched hers tightly shut and huffed out a breath of air. “I’m guessing you can’t go back in and give me another sample?”
“Uh,” I said through a laugh. “Not right this second. Tank’s empty.”
“Greaaaat.”
Even in the trauma, she was adorable. A pit in my stomach turned as I searched my mind for a way to make her feel better.
“Listen, can I—”
“Why don’t you just take off, okay?” she interrupted me quickly. “I’ve got to clean up, and…” She sighed. “I know this is important, but I’m sure they’ll let you retake it later today or another day or something.”
My eyebrows drew together. Despite the importance of the testing and results, I hadn’t even thought about when I’d have to make this up.
The only thing I’d thought about since the moment I entered the room was…well, her.
“Look, I can probably—”
“No, no,” she interrupted again. “Just go, Leo. I’ll handle it.” Her voice lowered to a breathy whisper—commentary clearly not meant for me—as she went on. “Lisa is going to flip her shit.”
With one last lingering look, I did the only thing I could for her. The one thing I desperately didn’t want to do.
I left.
Without helping. Without getting a name. Without a usable urine sample.
Without a goddamn clue how I found myself thinking continuously about a woman I’d just met.
So, I took an accidental golden shower in some ridiculously hot guy’s urine once.
Big deal, right?
I mean, surely, I’d learned my lesson after that horrible scenario. He’d been the first guy in the room, and with time and experience, I’d had plenty of opportunity to gain my footing, and thankfully, a pair of fresh scrubs. I definitely hadn’t spilled pee on myself again, that was for damn sure.
“From what they told me, it sounded like you weren’t getting the hang of anything besides driving that medical assistant crazy,” Mable said, growing a little tired of my shit. She’d called about five minutes ago, an hour before I was due to wake up to head back to the medical assistant gig for day two. And she hadn’t held back when she’d broken the news that I’d been relieved of duty.
I’d been pleading my case ever since.
