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Lucy: You play dirty
“I hope whoever you’re texting, it’s work related,” Evie says, and I look up to see her gray, curled head peering over the tall desktop running around the perimeter of the nurses’ station. Her hair almost matches the color of the walls behind her, and the fluorescent overhead lighting is casting a shadow over her face, making her scowl look even more frightening. It’s rare to see the charge nurse without a sour look on her face. She may be the human equivalent of a stale cracker, but she runs a tight ship in this emergency room, with some very strict rules—including no personal phone usage during work hours.
Not that any of us follow that one. We’ve just learned to hide it well. Apparently, I’ve temporarily forgotten how to do that. I was just brazenly sitting here texting on my phone, like a novice.
“Of course,” I say, not-so-surreptitiously sliding the phone into my pocket.
“She was texting me,” I hear someone say from behind me and look over my shoulder to see Dr. Shackwell standing with his phone in his hand on the other side of the station, the twinkling lights from the Christmas garland hanging on the wall behind him giving him an ethereal sort of glow. He looks a bit like a bad-boy angel come to save me.
“Ya-yes,” I say, turning back to Evie. “I was just texting Dr. Shackwell to tell him the patient in room four needs to speak with him.” I’m praying I have that right because it’s highly possible that no one is in room four. For a holiday, it’s been pretty quiet around here.
“On your personal phone?” she asks, clearly not believing this story.
“My work one wouldn’t send,” I say. This isn’t that far-fetched since it does happen every once in a while. Although I wouldn’t send it to a personal phone since it’s not secure like the messaging system we have here. Also, I don’t have Graham’s phone number, but Evie doesn’t know that.
“I appreciate you doing that,” Dr. Shackwell says to me.
Evie squints her eyes in his direction, and I turn my chair slightly so I can see the handsome doctor. All six-foot-three of him, with his light brown perfectly coiffed hair, and that ever-present short-cropped beard framing his jaw. I wonder if his Chris Evans vibes are appealing to crabby-pants Evie? They certainly are to most everyone at Aspen General. But I’ve known Graham Shackwell for practically my entire life. So his charms don’t work on me.
That’s a lie, actually. It’s a rare woman who doesn’t find him attractive. But having very little experience with men, the thought of being ensnared in his handsome trap and then tossed aside, as I’ve heard is his MO from some of the other nurses, makes it easier for me to keep a good distance. Plus, when my brother Kyle—who used to be best friends with Graham—found out he was working with me, he told me to stay away. I did mention Kyle is overprotective, right?
I’m not sure his warnings were needed because, well, I’m twenty-nine years old. If I want to be played with, that’s my prerogative. But also, Graham has been moonlighting here for six months and I haven’t so much as even heard a flirtatious line from the man. He’s all business when he’s here. I may be naive when it comes to the opposite sex, but I know a flirt when I see one. And so far ... Graham isn’t like that. At least not during his shifts. Maybe he saves it for his other jobs. Or maybe it was a phase he grew out of.
He’s had ample opportunity to flirt around here. The other nurses go all googly-eyed when he’s around and have had a great time coming up with versions of his unfortunate last name. Shack-me-up-well and Shackle-me-up were a couple of my favorites. None that are said to his face, of course.
I’m sure they’d have even more if they knew his middle name. Kal-El. As in Superman. Weird that I remember that, but also, it’s a hard one to forget.
Evie lets out a breath. “All right,” she says before turning her five-foot-two self around and walking away.
“She seems like a really fun person to hang out with,” Graham says once she’s out of earshot, and I snort out a laugh as I turn my chair around. Graham Shackwell made a joke. He was practically a permanent fixture in my house growing up, and he was always quite the jokester back then. I’d actually forgotten that about him until right now; he’s seemed so straightlaced since he started working here.
He’s wearing his white coat over black scrubs, a stethoscope hanging around his neck, a hand in his pocket. He looks like he could be a model for a hot doctor calendar.
“Yeah, but she’s a real sweetie under that hard exterior,” I say, giving him my best fake-sincere look.
His eyebrows move up his forehead. “Really?”
“No. Not at all,” I say through a laugh, shaking my head back and forth.
He chuckles then. The corners of his mouth pull upward, and I catch a glimpse of his perfectly straight white teeth. I remember when he got braces back in middle school. He even looked cool with braces. When I got mine, I just looked like braces with a face. It’s all anyone could see.
“I like the headband,” he says.
“Oh, thanks,” I say, reaching up and touching the thick headband. A lot of us wear them to keep our hair out of our faces. I like to theme mine—it gives me some creative freedom since all we wear are scrubs around here. Mine has stars on it because that was the closest thing I had for New Year’s.
“Thanks for saving me with Evie,” I tell him.
“Not a problem,” he replies. “Is she always like that?” He holds out a hand in the direction where Evie made her exit.
“Evie? Oh ... yeah. Pretty much.”
“I just thought she was in a bad mood every time I’m here. I thought she hated me.”
“Oh.” I nod. “She definitely hates you. But to be fair, she hates everyone.”
He smiles again, this time bigger. His lips stretch across his face, and a small dimple makes an appearance on his left cheek. Graham has an award-winning smile. It’s one of the reasons thirteen-year-old me would make excuses to go down to the basement when he was playing video games with Kyle ... just to see his smile. Graham Shackwell might have been my first real crush.
We’re silent for a few seconds and I think he’s about to walk away.
