11. Sam
ELEVEN
Sam
"Is that supposed to be lasagna or geological sediment?" I poke at the orange-red mass on my tray. The cafeteria’s fluorescent lights somehow make it look even less appetizing.
Kip slides into the seat across from me, his tray loaded with twice as much food as mine. There’s a coffee stain on his scrubs, and his glasses are perched slightly crooked on his nose like they gave up on his face halfway through rounds.
"I think it’s Thursday’s special. Which means it’s either beef-adjacent or a science experiment gone wrong."
"I've lost my appetite."
He lifts a forkful, squinting at it like he might carbon date it. "I’m leaning toward experiment."
I snort and nudge it aside with my fork. "Your standards are deeply alarming."
"Seven years in, and I just want something in my belly. Dignity’s optional."
"I think I'll pass today. A protein bar will be fine. "
My phone jitters against the tray. I glance down at the new message.
Cole.
My pulse stumbles for half a second before I school my face into something casual.
Kip notices. Of course, he notices. His eyes narrow.
"Who's that?"
I take a sip of water. "Remember that hot guy from the OR gallery last week? Turns out he's my neighbor."
Kip blinks. "Wait, seriously?"
"Mm-hmm." I grab my phone, flipping it face down like it doesn’t matter.
"Well, you could have mentioned that."
"I haven't had a moment to talk. He bought the house next to mine a few months ago, but I just didn't know at the time. Lives in New York, but he’s in town for this board shit."
Kip leans forward, elbow on the table. "Nice. Are y'all, you know," he says, waggling his eyebrows.
"I swear you're an adolescent. No, dork."
That's true for the most part. We aren't actively whatever. One hot night on my deck before we knew each other doesn't count.
After we both came to our senses before going too far last night, I realized I needed to shift my priorities. Like Arden said, I need a plan. And Cole is my way to leak my wishes into the board.
"I saw how you got all hot and bothered that day when you saw him. I think that's a fair question. Especially considering how flushed your cheeks got when you just told me."
"I wasn't operating, so I was taking in the scenery. Stop making everything about sex." I reach for a napkin, pretending my heart isn’t pounding like it’s trying to escape my chest.
"So y'all are texting neighbors? Got it. If you haven't slept together, you will. Mark my word."
I shrug, a little too casually. "He asked about the Evelyn Taylor Wing the other night. Thought maybe I’d give him that tour.
You know, do my civic duty and help him understand what’s at stake before he votes on anything.
Since I'm skipping lunch, I might as well get to work on saving this hospital. "
Kip gives me a look. "So you’re lobbying him?"
"I’m buttering him up. Educating him, classic advocacy."
He laughs. "You’re awesome. I love it."
"I’m practical," I correct.
"Yes, you are."
"If a little flirting helps keep my mother’s legacy intact, then so be it."
"That sounds incredibly ethical."
"Don’t worry. I’ll leave my robe on this time."
Kip chokes on his coffee. "What?"
"Nothing. Just joking," I smile sweetly.
Joking, not joking.
"Eat your beef mystery," I say as I stand, leaving him with whatever that is he's calling food safe for human consumption.
"Hold on, Taylor. I'm coming. I want the tour, and you've effectively ruined lasagna for me."
“That’s not lasagna."
"Stop. Let me throw this away. You don't mind if I tag along, do you?"
"Of course not. But I'm not meeting him for another fifteen. I'm just going to head that way. "
We round the corner past the boardroom when Kip's hand shoots out to grab my scrub top. "Hold up."
A group of suits exits the glass-fronted conference room, their voices hushed but animated. Cole stands among them, his height making him easy to spot. He's nodding at whatever the man is saying, but his jaw is tight.
My heartbeat quickens. I step back, pulling Kip with me behind a support column.
"What are you doing?" He whispers through clenched teeth.
"I don't want him to see me."
"Why? I thought that was what we were doing? Are you worried he might think you're stalking him?" His eyes dance with amusement.
"I'm not—" I stop, realizing I've walked right into his trap.
Cole pauses, checking something on his phone. Even from this distance, I can see the intensity in his expression.
"Look at that. He's not just a suit, he's persuasive. Langley looks like he swallowed something sour."
The hospital CFO does indeed look displeased, his lips pressed into a thin line as Cole speaks quietly to him.
"What do you think they're discussing?" I ask.
"Doesn't matter. Most everyone I've talked to thinks concierge care's inevitable." Kip's voice loses its teasing edge.
"Oh, God."
"The board will make whatever decision maximizes profits. That's their job."
"That's not true. My dad's on the board, and I know he won't vote for that."
"Your father is one vote, Sam."
My stomach knots as Cole and the executives move toward the elevator. He hasn't seen me. I should be relieved, but instead there's a hollow sensation spreading through my chest.
"We should go," I whisper.
"Where? Aren't we meeting him?"
"Yes, at the wing. Come on. He's going to see us."
My front door clicks shut behind me, and I lean against it, letting my bag slide to the floor.
The weight of the day sinks in all at once. My shoulders are tight, my calves ache, and there’s a dull throb in my lower back that feels like a warning light I’ve been ignoring for too long.
My body’s not just tired, it’s overstimulated and underwhelmed. Like I’ve been holding tension in the wrong places for hours and can’t remember how to let it go.
I kick off my shoes and pad to the kitchen, muscle memory guiding me to the fridge. The cool air hits my face as I stare blankly at the contents. There's half a container of cottage cheese, wilted spinach, and a bottle of white wine that's been open for three days.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I don't want to talk to anyone, but I pull it out anyway, out of habit.
It's a text from Cole.
Just his name lights up something under my ribs. My mouth goes dry as I lean against the counter and open the message as my heart beats audibly against the hard stone.
Thanks for the tour today. It was nice to be able to know more first-hand.
The rational part of my brain, the one that got me through medical school and keeps me sharp after twelve-hour shifts, is telling me to put the phone down .
It is a thank-you text. Nothing more. A professional follow-up to a professional favor.
But it does not feel that simple. Not after last night. Not after today.
He's sending this just as I get home. He probably knows I just walked through the door.
Who am I kidding? He isn't sitting in his house watching my comings and goings. It's just a coincidence.
Now I understand why sleeping with your neighbor is such a slippery slope. Not to mention, he's also on my hospital's board, about to cast a very important vote.
If this doesn't scream danger zone, I don't know what would.
The words in the text might be neutral, but the timing is anything but. Not after what almost happened after dinner last night. Not after the way today felt between us in what should have been a completely platonic meeting at the hospital.
I flash to the way his shoulder brushed mine when we stepped through the doorway at the same time as we left the wing. Then, the brief but deliberate way he lingered in front of my mother’s plaque, and the way he looked at me afterward, like the weight of that moment belonged to both of us.
Kip was with us, walking a few steps ahead. If he noticed the sexual hopscotch simmering beneath the surface, he did not say a word. Maybe he was just being polite.
The truth is, Cole and I both continue to blur the line every chance we're together. And one of us always pulls back at the last minute.
What the fuck kind of foreplay is that?
I can't help but think about the way his mouth felt on mine last night. The way his hands slid down my waist and pulled me back into his lap when I stood to leave.
I stare at the screen like somehow I'll be cured of this if I just try hard enough. But nothing. I drop the phone onto the counter like it’s radioactive.
I need someone to talk me down before I text him back something stupid like Are you free tonight? or Do you want to ruin me again properly this time?
I grab my phone again, but this time, I scroll to Arden and hit call.
She answers on the second ring.
“Okay, what the hell, Samantha Evelyn? You’ve been ignoring me all day. You can't give me catnip and then go MIA.”
“God, you're so dramatic. I've been very busy. If you weren't aware, the day of a surgical resident isn't exactly lax.”
“You’re lying. I can hear it in the way you pronounce 'busy.' Start talking. Begin with how dinner was last night. I'll try not to jump to any conclusions since you didn't call me at midnight for a debrief.”
I sigh and slide down onto the kitchen stool, bracing my forehead against my palm.
“It was good.”
“That’s not a word. That’s a placeholder. Try again.”
“It was great. Okay? Like, disgustingly great. He grilled the best steak I think I've ever eaten and made pasta that tasted like butter, and we talked for hours. About work, family, wine, and music, of course. All of it. It was easy. Enjoyable. Almost perfect.”
Arden goes quiet for a beat.
“Almost?”
“And we kissed.”
Her inhale is sharp. “Finally. ”
“No, not like that. I hesitated, and he sensed it.”
“Excuse me?”
“Right when it got really good. I panicked. My brain decided to launch a full-scale anxiety spiral mid-kiss, and I stopped it.”
“Sam.”
“And then, it all went to shit. He said it was a bad idea.”
“Oh my God.”
“I know.”
“No, I mean, Sam .”
“I know.”
“So let me get this straight.” Arden’s tone sharpens, but she’s still my best friend, so I let her.
“You have dinner with your hot billionaire neighbor-slash-hospital board member, you have one of the best nights of your adult life, you finally kiss again after the Sharon Stone-level sex on your porch, and then you self-sabotage in real time and walk away?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
“Do you want to be slapped or hugged right now?”
“Probably both.”
“What happened after? Did you run home like Cinderella?”
“Basically. It was awkward. My body wanted to stay. My brain said to walk. So I walked. And then spent all night replaying every second like an idiot, wondering what he was doing, wishing I were there.”
“I know. Believe me, I know.”
She waits. I don’t offer anything else.
“Well?” she finally prompts. “What happened after that? Have you seen or talked to him at all since?”
I hesitate.
“Sam. ”
“I texted him around lunch. He’d asked yesterday, before dinner, if I’d ever be willing to show him the Evelyn Taylor Wing. I figured giving him the tour might smooth things over after the weird exit last night.”
“So, how was that?”
“It was supposed to be a reset. Something professional. Straightforward.”
Arden hums, clearly not buying it. “Why do I get the feeling it didn’t go according to plan?”
I groan. “Kip was with us. I thought he’d be insurance. But even he couldn’t stifle the undercurrent. Let’s just say I’m more confused, and more horny, than ever.”
Arden whistles. “Sexual tension in scrubs. Love that for you.”
"It's not good, Arden."
“And where are we now?”
“He just texted me. That's why I called you, so I wouldn't call him.”
Arden doesn’t even pause. “What did the text say?”
“Said thanks for the tour. That’s all. Simple. Professional. And yet...”
“You’re spiraling.”
“I’m spiraling. The words are neutral, but the timing isn't. He sent it right after I got home. He probably knew I just got home.”
“And you’re wondering what it means.”
“I’m wondering if I’m reading too much into it. I’m wondering if I ruined something that wasn’t even supposed to be anything. And I’m wondering what the hell to text back, if I should text back, and why I feel like I need to lie down and scream into a pillow.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then Arden says, “I’m coming over.”
“No, you don’t have to?— ”
“This calls for an intervention.”
“Arden.”
“I’m bringing a cold bottle of Santa Margarita. And the emergency brownies. We are going to untangle this madness before you either sleep with him again or ghost him into oblivion.”