14. Medical School
Chapter 14
Medical School
Fourth Year
T he next morning, I woke up with the distinct feeling that I had slept fitfully. I suffered a nightmare that I was presenting my research to the judges, only to find that they all had Alex’s face. They approached me in all her blonde glory, nodding along as I stuttered painfully through my presentation, only for her to tell me that I was too late to be considered for any awards or scholarships.
The symbolism wasn’t lost on me.
I stared at the ceiling, taking several deep breaths, trying to reassure myself that it was just a nightmare. The presentation was going to be fine. I was prepared.
I dressed in my cream-colored suit, did my hair and makeup, and gathered my poster and presentation materials. I walked with my roommate down to the lobby to meet the rest of our group for breakfast.
An hour later, I tacked the poster I had created on our clinical trial to my designated presentation space and waited for the conference attendees and judges to arrive.
When it was my turn, the judges, a panel of neurologists and researchers, approached and listened to my presentation intently, occasionally nodding or jotting down notes. My heart raced.
“Can you elaborate on the implications of your findings on current treatment paradigms?” one judge asked, peering over her glasses at me as she held her clipboard aloft.
I gathered my thoughts before I explained our suggested pathways for new therapeutic interventions. As I started to answer more of their questions, I settled into a steady confidence. I knew this study well—better than anyone. I had been there nearly from the start of the trial. I had managed the data analysis, put the results into tables, and written the paper that was now published under my name. I didn’t need to be nervous about presenting it, when I felt like I could have recited it in my sleep.
The judges gave each other little knowing nods and smiles that made me feel like they liked what I had to say. When they walked away a few minutes later, I was beaming. No matter what happened, I knew I had done my best work, and I was proud of myself for that.
And most importantly, no one looked anything like Javi’s ex.
A little while after the judges left my station, I was explaining my trial to a group of neurologists from Houston when I felt a soft little tingle up my spine—not an unpleasant sensation. I glanced over the shoulder of the doctor closest to me and saw Javi standing down the aisle twenty feet away, watching me. I paused for the briefest moment in my description of our statistical analysis, an involuntary smile playing on my lips. I could feel his eyes on me until the second they left my station, when he finally drifted forward to fill their space.
I breathed in deeply when I finally was able to get a good look at him. He was wearing a coffee-colored suit and had decided again today to go without the tie. He crossed his arms as he looked at me, expectantly.
“Well?” he asked, grinning.
My brows furrowed in confusion, but the corner of my lips crept upward in the start of a smile. “Well, what?”
“Well, let me have it,” he said, gesturing to the poster behind me. “I want the full show.”
I shook my head at him, laughing. “No, you don’t. I’m certain you couldn’t care less about amyloid-binding monoclonal antibodies.”
He shivered as if the words had sent a pleasant thrill through his body. “Say amyloid-binding monoclonal antibodies to me again.”
He looked at me with a smoldering expression that made me squirm beneath the heat of it. I blushed furiously. My eyes darted around, relieved when it seemed like no one else within twenty feet of my station seemed to be interested at all in our discussion. I cleared my throat, trying to compose myself, before launching into my presentation from memory.
Javi watched the whole speech, from start to finish, never losing that burning look in his eyes. His eyes seeming to trail over every inch of me, and my skin seemed to tingle with the weight of his attention. He clapped quietly for me when I was done, still not taking his eyes off me. I shook my head at his little display.
Finally, Javi stole his eyes from me and watched another group of people as they approached my station.
“I can’t hog the show all day, I guess,” he said, winking at me as he started to turn to leave. “Will I see you later?”
“ We were planning to go out for drinks later,” I said quickly, wanting to make plans with him before we were interrupted. “Join us? ”
He smiled. “I have a dinner scheduled, but I’ll come join you after. Text me where you end up.”
I left the poster presentation a little while later, feeling significantly lighter now that my responsibilities were over for the weekend. I found my classmates and enjoyed the afternoon with them, attending lectures and networking events. We got dinner on the riverwalk before we set out for our real destination—alcohol, and lots of it.
We started at an Irish pub but moved quickly onto another venue, one with enormous margaritas for next to nothing. I texted Javi updates each time we changed locations. At the beginning of the evening, my eyes were glued to my phone, waiting for him to confirm that he was on his way to meet up with us. But the farther into the evening we got, the less time I spent obsessing over when he would join us and the more time I spent enjoying myself. When I finally found him, I had already spent quite a bit of time enjoying myself, indeed.
“Javi! Javi!” I screamed across the river. Javi was talking to a group of people in business casual clothing, clearly attendees of the conference.
I didn’t care who he was talking to at this moment, I wanted him here, next to me, enjoying the evening with me. I couldn’t imagine anyone in this world who needed to be close to Javi like I needed to be.
Javi finally heard my calls and looked in my direction. His expression changed from confusion to amusement the moment he spotted me waving at him. He excused himself from his company and moved toward the stone bridge separating us. I hurried to the bridge, meeting him at the top of the arch of the stone structure. I threw my arms around him as soon as he was in reach. His stiff posture seemed to melt beneath my embrace, and his hands curled around my waist .
“Javi, you’re here!” I exclaimed. “I thought you’d never escape those suits.”
He laughed. “I did! Are you enjoying your evening, Doc?”
“ Very much so,” I agreed exuberantly. He leaned away to take in my appearance. And, I imagined, the smell of tequila.
“I can tell,” he replied through laughter. “Have you had a couple drinks?”
“I have ,” I confirmed, a little guiltily. “Did you know they have giant margaritas here for almost nothing ? They’re like four dollars. Can you believe it? I couldn’t get an ice cube for four dollars in a New York City bar.”
“Welcome to Texas,” he replied, the faintest trace of his accent slipping out with the phrase. “Everything’s bigger here.”
“Everything?” I asked, giggling at the implication.
He averted his eyes, smirking. “That’s what they say anyway.”
“ Javi? ” I asked.
“Yes?”
“Did you know there is a place here where the bartenders dance on the bar in cowboy boots?” I explained, very excited. I had heard a few of my classmates talking about going. “I think we should go there.”
“Oh, do you now?” he asked, greatly amused.
“I do ,” I confirmed. “I would like to see if they would let me try dancing on the bar with them!”
“Oh, wow,” he said, carefully considering the idea. “As much as I would absolutely love to see you try that, I think we should probably hold off for tonight. Maybe tomorrow though.”
“Aw, okay,” I pouted. “If you insist. ”
“I do insist,” he assured me. “Can I walk you to some other destination? Maybe back to the hotel?”
I shook my head emphatically. “No, thank you. I would like to continue enjoying my evening. And I would very much like you to accompany me, good sir.”
“Well, I would be delighted, ma’am. But I would love to be privy to the destination, if you don’t mind,” he replied, in his very best southern drawl that made me want to squeal in delight. I loved cowboy Javi.
“Dancing?” I asked. “Not on a bar, but on a dance floor?”
“Do you even know how to two-step?” he asked.
“No. Do you?” I asked with surprise and delight.
“I was born and raised here. Of course I know how to two-step,” he replied, sounding offended I could have implied anything different. “I’ll teach you some time.”
One of the river taxis suddenly floated beneath us, distracting me, and I leaned over the edge to peer at it passing by. Javi’s hands stayed on me as I moved, as if he was afraid that I would lean right over the edge.
“Let’s go on a boat ride!” I enthused.
“I’m pretty sure the tours are closed for the evening,” he responded. “But you should go tomorrow. It’s a pretty good tour.”
“Damn!” I cursed. “Well, what do we do then? I can’t go on the boats or dance in cowboy boots. What else is there?”
He put his arm around my waist, starting to lead me down the stairs off the bridge and back onto the riverwalk. He let me lean into him as we walked, keeping me on the side of the walkway farthest from the water. I looked over at the dark, rippling water beside us.
“One of my friends told me it’s a $500 fine if you fall into the river,” I remarked curiously. “Is that true? ”
“I’d rather we not test the theory,” he warned. “But I think I’ve heard that as well.”
I giggled. “So, you won’t let me drink any more giant margaritas. You won’t let me dance on bars in cowboy boots. You won’t take me two-stepping. You won’t let me go on boats. And now you won’t let me go swimming ? You were a lot more fun in college, Javier Valenzuela.”
“I don’t deny it,” he relented with a chuckle.
I looked up suddenly, realizing he had steered us all the way back to the hotel while we talked.
I started to protest, “Hey, I don’t?—”
“You want to get some room service?” he cajoled. “They put me up in a very fancy suite for the event. All the food is on the hosts.”
I smiled widely. My brain in its current state needed no further convincing. “Say less.”
I took his hand, letting him lead me into the lobby. We got into the elevator, and he took a key out of his pocket to scan a sensor before pushing the button for the top floor. When Javi opened the double doors at the end of the long hallway on the top floor, my jaw dropped.
“ Javi ,” I gushed. “This is very fancy.”
“I told you.” He took his suit jacket off, grinning at my reaction.
I ran through the room, spinning around with my arms wide.
“ Javi ,” I gushed again. “You’re so fancy .”
“I promise, I’m not.” He shook his head, laughing at me as he settled onto the couch, opening the room service menu to peruse the options. “No matter how many fancy hotels people put me up in, no matter where I go, I’ll still always be that same kid bussing tables in his parents’ restaurant.”
I threw myself onto the couch beside him, making him bounce slightly with the force of my impact. “What are we eating?”
“I say we stay true to our roots,” he said, picking up the phone beside him to make the order. “French fries and milkshakes.”
I nodded in agreement. After he placed the order, I stood from the couch, holding my hand out to him. “Javier Valenzuela!”
He took my offered hand. “ Yes , Diana Richards?”
“You promised to teach me how to two-step!” I demanded.
He laughed and took his phone out of his pocket, searching his music app. He put on a slow tempo country song, with the twang of guitars and a very deep-voiced singer. He led me to the middle of the sitting room and twirled me by the hand once before grabbing my waist and drawing me into his chest. I put my free hand on his shoulder. He began to march a steady rhythm of two quick steps to the right followed by one slow step to the left, on and on with the beat of the music. I looked down at our feet, struggling to catch the rhythm.
“Stop looking at your feet and let me lead, silly,” he teased.
I sighed but laid my head against his chest and let myself melt into his arms. Once I stopped focusing on what he was doing, it was an easy pattern to follow, even as dizzy as I felt with the effects of tequila. He turned us in the small space over and over like it was a tiny ballroom, two steps to the right and one step to the left.
“Javi?” I asked as the song ended and he spun me around once more.
“Yes?”
Another slow country song immediately followed the first, and he pulled me back into his arms to continue our dance. I leaned heavily against his shoulder, the room spinning a bit.
“Do you ever wonder—” The question I was about to ask suddenly escaped me as my stomach lurched.
“I think I’m going to?—”
I pulled myself from his arms and ran to the adjacent bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time to violently vomit. As the copious sour liquid fled my body, I felt him behind me, pulling my hair into his hands to keep it out of the line of fire. Most of my mind was occupied with the horrid act of vomiting, but a small part of it wished that he wasn’t watching it happen.
When the waves of nausea finally ceased a little while later, I leaned against the toilet seat, feeling like the act had drained me of all energy. Javi moved about the bathroom, collecting a washcloth and soaking it in cool water. He handed it to me, and I pressed it into my face thankfully. The cool water was soothing on my hot skin. I wiped my mouth before setting it aside. Javi left the bathroom briefly before coming back with a stack of clothes in hand. He sat down on the tile beside me, rubbing my back.
“I’m sorry,” I told him miserably.
“Don’t be sorry,” he reassured. “You have a lot to celebrate right now—med school’s almost done, you did amazing on your research presentation. You just celebrated a little too hard this time.”
“Too hard,” I agreed. “Too many four-dollar margaritas.”
He laughed, handing me the stack of his clothes. “Stay here tonight. I’ll take care of you.”
I shot him a feeble smile, taking the offered clothes. “Don’t you know doctors make the worst patients?”
“Well, then, I’ll just have to take advantage of the last few months before it’s official then,” he said .
After he left the bathroom, I took off my suit and pulled his t-shirt over my head. It fell to my mid-thigh, and though he had left me shorts as well, my brain in its current state decided that the shirt was more than enough. I splashed cool water on my face. My mind still felt fuzzy with alcohol, but at least the room had stopped spinning, and my stomach had stopped roiling every time I moved—at least, for now.
I took a bottle of mouthwash from the arrangement of hotel toiletries and rinsed my mouth twice, for good measure. I walked out of the bathroom. The food had arrived while I was in the bathroom, and I could smell the salty smell of French fries wafting throughout the room. But I was too scared to put anything on my stomach, out of fear that I would only lose it shortly after. When he saw me, his expression flashed from concern to amusement, then settled into a tense sort of exasperation.
“Diana,” he said, sounding very serious. “You’re not wearing pants.”
“I am not,” I agreed. I gestured to where his t-shirt fell on my thighs, covering all the necessary parts. “I did not find pants necessary. Thank you for the shirt, though.”
He laughed. One of his hands slid down his face. “You’re killing me, Di.”
I sat next to him on the couch, pulling my legs up beneath me until my knee was brushing against his thigh. He averted his gaze, like he couldn’t even look at me while I had so much leg exposed. My brain was admittedly sluggish, but it didn’t seem to make any sense. Only a few hours ago, in a room filled with people, he had been undressing me with his eyes. Now that I was next to him, in private, it was like he could barely look at me.
I took a moment to analyze his body language. He looked... uncomfortable was the best word I could come up with. My brain slowly muddled through what I was seeing. A muscle in his jaw jumped as it clenched. His chest rose and fell against the buttons of his shirt in a faster rhythm than it should have, considering that he was relaxing on a couch. And when I looked down at his lap, the realization hit me quite suddenly.
Oh. He’s aroused.
The sight of it made some little wicked part of my brain snap out of its last restraints. Before I could think of the logic or the consequences, I launched at him, straddling his lap in one motion.
His expression turned panicked. “Diana, what are you doing?”
“Saying when,” I whispered into his ear. He had been teasing me for a month, waiting for me to be ready. I had left my inhibitions behind about three margaritas ago, so I suddenly felt incredibly ready .
My hands slid upward from his chest to his neck. His hands braced my hips, and while I was initially encouraged by the action, I noticed he carefully held me aloft, not letting me settle onto his lap.
“You don’t want this?” I asked him, my voice sweet and innocent despite the devilish turn my thoughts had taken.
His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. I could tell he was incredibly conflicted at the question. He didn’t smile. His hands firmly held me aloft, keeping me from sinking down onto him like I longed to do. But his eyes burned hungrily, and I knew with everything I was that he did want this, just as much as I did.
His voice was gentle as he said, “It’s not that, Di. I just really don’t want it to happen like this . Not while you’re drunk.”
The statement took a long time to register in my mind, but a wave of disappointment washed over me when it did. The heat of the moment was doused instantly, like water over a flame.
“Oh,” I said sadly. I slid off his lap, back onto the couch beside him.
The crash of the exhaustion hit me. I tried not to feel jilted but couldn’t help it. Javi had left a pillow and blanket on the couch at some point, and I leaned over to bury my face into it. Sleep began to swallow me within the first few seconds. Before I fully succumbed, I sensed Javi rising from the couch. I felt his arms tucking beneath my back and my knees as he lifted me to his chest, cradling me against him. He gently laid me down on the exquisitely soft bed.
His lips pressed against my temple. “Love you, Di.”
“Love you,” I whispered back, falling instantly into a deep sleep.