Chapter 5 #2
The words came out much more smoothly, like they had space to breathe. Like I did, too.
We wrapped up some forty minutes later with high fives all around, then I headed home with a faint hum of hope underneath the exhaustion—strange given that out of the three of us, I had the best hands but the worst presenting skills. If I placed in the top five with one of them? I was screwed.
And yet.
I returned to my place some fourteen hours after I’d left and found Neil in the living room, a Netflix documentary droning on in the background as he assembled a floor lamp with the help of a tall brunette. Friend? Girlfriend? Samantha, as it turned out, my second roommate.
“Sam,” she corrected, pushing hair off her face with one hand while holding the lamp base steady with the other. “Corporate law. Please don’t ask how I like it.”
“Noted.” I grinned at her. “Finn, surgery resident. Ask me how I like it when they’re not pitting us against each other like it’s the Hunger Games.”
“Do tell,” Neil said, glancing up from where he tightened a screw, eyes bright.
I decided they had the lamp assembly well under control and plopped onto the couch, tipping my head back with a sigh. “Boot camp announced a ‘Suture Bowl’—winner assists on a conjoined-twin separation.”
Sam whistled. “High stakes. Weapon of choice?”
“Needle and silk thread.”
“Thrilling,” she said. “I’d watch it.”
“Only if there’s a romance subplot,” Neil chimed in.
I hesitated. While Jesse and I had agreed on silence, we’d failed to define its boundaries—hospital bubble only, or did it extend beyond?
Tessa and Khai were a no go, of course, but what about friends back home?
What about Neil and Sam, unconnected to Devon Memorial?
I wasn’t wired to stew in my own thoughts without some kind of outside input.
The secret sat in my throat like a fishbone, daring me to spit it out.
I must have paused a beat too long because Sam arched a sharply defined eyebrow. “Oooh.” She turned the word into its own sentence. “I think there is a story there.”
“‘Story’ is too strong a word,” I said carefully. “More like a false start. A red herring.”
They stopped their lamp wrestling to fix me with eerily similar expectant stares. Neil had mentioned they’d been roommates for nearly three years; right now it was easy to see it.
“It’s, uh.” My laugh came out thin. “We’ve known each other for about five minutes, so I’m not…
Like, this might be a little much. And you can’t tell anyone.
Even though—we didn’t do anything wrong.
We didn’t know.” Was I babbling? I was babbling.
And still couldn’t help adding just one more sentence.
“But you don’t mess with your supervisory chain, so it’d be bad optics at the hospital. ”
“Mildly confusing,” Neil commented as if to confirm my suspicions. His grin was all mischief. “And highly intriguing, with the potential to be too juicy for my patients. Wouldn’t want to give anyone a heart attack, so my lips are sealed.”
“Who’d I even tell?” Sam shrugged. “I work, like, eighty hours a week, and you two are the only medical people I know.”
“Medical people?” Neil snorted. “So eloquent. It’s like you’re a lawyer or something.”
“Only when it’s billable hours.” She tossed me a quick smile. “But still, anything that’s said in this apartment falls under attorney-client privilege. So shoot.”
Right. Where to even start?
“Uh,” I said.
“Wow,” Neil drawled. “I’m already hooked.”
“Oh, fuck off.” It cracked a laugh out of me, though. “No, see, here’s the thing. A few days ago, I met a guy at a bar. We hooked up.”
“As you do,” Sam said, easy as you please, no visible reaction to the “guy” part. “Been there, done that.”
“Heard that,” Neil said with a wink at her. She stuck her tongue out at him, and rather than making me feel like an outsider, their teasing familiarity relaxed something inside me.
“Yeah, well,” I said. “Plot twist: Turns out he’s a senior doctor at Devon.”
“Senior as in old, or senior as in he’s your superior?” Neil asked, while Sam made an intrigued kind of noise.
“Awkward,” she said, seeming thoroughly delighted.
“Off the charts,” I told her, then glanced at Neil. “And it’s option two. He’s a senior fellow. At Devon, they’re the ones who supervise the day-to-day and file our end-of-rotation evaluations. It’s… not ideal.”
“So no follow-up?” she asked.
“Definitely no follow-up,” I confirmed, even though the words wriggled oddly in my chest. Stupid. It had been one hot night—really no big deal. I barely even knew Jesse.
“That’s too bad,” Neil said.
I lifted a shoulder and hoped it conveyed more indifference than I felt. “Just is what it is.”
Sam sent me a shrewd look. “Is he hot?”
I flashed to capable hands and a sharp, clever smile, green eyes that had gone dark with heat. “Uh, yeah.”
“Then yes,” Sam said. “That really is too bad.”
We were silent for a second while Neil tightened the final screw and leaned back, waving for Sam to let go of the base. The lamp held steady, arching high above a sagging armchair in the corner.
“Go team!” Neil cheered, and I mimed a standing ovation without actually getting up from my perch on the couch. I felt strangely lighter already, even just for having shared the rough outline of the story.
Neil left for his night shift at ten, and Sam retreated to read “probably five pages of my book before I fall asleep and drool all over it.” I brushed my teeth and caught up with a few messages from back home, reassuring my mom that I was still alive and my best friend, Eli, that no, New York wasn’t just investment bankers and naked cowboys playing the guitar in Times Square.
And no—it wasn’t home either. Maybe one day.
A group chat of med-school buddies had shared a meme of a skeleton in scrubs, captioned Us by September. Ugh, relatable. I’d yet to even unpack my suitcase. I nudged it open with my foot and thought about the note tucked into its side pocket. I should throw it away, right?
Instead, I unfolded it and read it over once more.
Sorry for falling asleep. I didn’t want to wake you, so here’s all the cash I’ve got on me.
Oddly sweet, God. It registered despite the lingering sting of embarrassment.
I unlocked my phone and stopped for a couple of breaths, then entered Jesse’s number and wrote:
Omertà doesn’t apply to safe, non-work friends and family, right?
Yes or no? Another breath, and I sent it.
Jesse replied just as I finished setting my alarm for five thirty.
If you say they’re safe, I trust your judgment.
Thanks. Same to you.
I thought about adding something more. Good night? See you tomorrow? It felt too personal which—funny, considering where his fingers and cock had been.
I shook off the tiny spark of arousal and sent the message. He replied with a smiley face, and I told myself I hadn’t expected more. Didn’t want more either.
I had a competition to win.