20. Chase
Chase
The week between Christmas and New Year’s is weird, like always. Thankfully, Logan and I are both working our balls off this week. Being busy helps it go by quickly.
After a quick scan of Marcy’s medical chart to see her latest vitals and test results, I meet my co-residents and our attending for morning rounds.
Dr. Porter is the attending on call with us today.
He’s intimidating as all fuck. The guy’s gotta be in his mid-to-late-forties, but he wears his age like a fucking fashion accessory.
He’s all fancy watch, tailored slacks, and chiseled jawline.
As we’re walking between patient rooms, he invites everyone to his place for New Year’s Eve.
“It won’t be wild and crazy, but I’d love to host with dinner and drinks. Maybe a couple rounds of poker and a nice cigar for those who are interested.”
Everyone murmurs excitedly. It’s not too often that we get glimpses of our mentors’ personal lives. Especially this mentor.
Dr. Porter holds his cards very close to his chest. Supposedly, some scandal a couple years ago landed him with a security detail for a while after an obsessed patient made false claims of sexual misconduct against him.
Come to find out, the patient was pissed because Dr. Porter turned down her sexual advances, and then he denied her additional pain medicine.
Dr. Porter was cleared, but I’m sure it takes a toll on you when everything you’ve worked for is on the line like that.
We’ve all been warned not to bring it up and certainly not to make crude jokes that even hint at inappropriate relations between any member of the staff and a patient, considering it’s almost always grounds for losing your medical license.
Not to mention, Boston Memorial has a zero-tolerance policy where that’s concerned due to the unwanted attention Dr. Porter received and the way it was used against him.
“You’re welcome to bring your plus-ones,” Dr. Porter continues. “Just please let me know how many are coming by the end of today so I can make sure I have enough food,” he finishes as we stop outside the next patient’s door.
My plus-one.
I immediately think of Logan. But… would that be weird? I mean, we can go as friends, right? The prospect of going to Dr. Porter’s party without him doesn’t appeal to me at all.
Time is a funny thing. Logan and I haven’t been hanging out all that long, but he’s somehow become a safe place for me in a very short amount of time.
I breathe easier around him. I sleep better knowing he’s next door.
And when I hear his key in the lock, I get excited to hear about his day and to tell him about mine.
Somehow, I force myself to refocus on the patient we’re discussing, knowing I’ll be pumped for information in the next few minutes, but focus doesn’t come easily.
Once labs are ordered, medications are reconciled, and I pop in to say hello to Marcy—who’s doing extremely well after her last round of chemo—I text Logan. It’s after seven p.m., so I know he’s got to be here somewhere unless he’s out on a run.
Chase
Where are you?
Logan
MD lounge.
Chase
Stay there. I’m coming down.
Winding my way through the halls, up a flight of stairs, and across to the old wing, I badge into the physician’s lounge to find Logan in one of the armchairs with a book.
“What are you reading?”
He chews on his lip.
“I really wish I could tell you it was something highly intellectual like how to start a company, but uh, it’s The Hunger Games,” he says, holding the cover up for me to see.
“Nothing wrong with that. I miss reading. I mean, reading something other than Netter’s Atlas of Human Anatomy and patient charts, at least.”
“You like to read?” Logan asks with a tone of surprise.
“Oh yeah. Big fucking nerd over here,” I say, flopping into the chair next to him, waving a hand at my lab coat. “Obviously.”
Logan studies me for a minute before saying, “You come in here just to shoot the shit? What? Did you run out of patients?”
“Yeah, right,” I say with a laugh. “I have more job security than anyone on the planet. I was actually wondering if you had plans for New Year’s Eve?”
“Yeah,” Logan says seriously. “Stay inside and avoid all the drunk assholes. Be asleep by ten. You know, grown-up shit.”
I reach out and smack his thigh.
“I’m serious. One of my attendings is having a get-together. Come with me,” I demand instead of asking.
Logan cuts his eyes at me.
“Does this count as our third date?” he teases, placing the bookmark in his book and taking a sip from the Styrofoam coffee cup on the side table.
“I guess that’ll depend on whether you kiss me at midnight,” I joke back. When Logan stays silent, I add, “Please? I don’t want to go by myself, and I’ll have a lot more fun if you’re there.”
“You could just stay home with me,” he suggests.
“Yeeaah. Saying no isn’t really any option. My absence will be noticed, and if I show up alone, I’m afraid Sarah will try to get a little too close.”
At the sound of Sarah’s name, Logan’s head whips toward me.
“Sarah? The girl who knows you’re practically engaged?”
“First of all, Kendra and I are not practically engaged. I haven’t even seen her in four months.
Second, I don’t know that Sarah wants a relationship as much as she wants to casually hook up.
She was very quick to tell me her boyfriend is in the military, but they have an open relationship when he’s on assignment—which he currently is. She was quick to tell me that, too.”
I scrub a hand down my face, and Logan snorts.
“So, you want me to intentionally cockblock you? Run cliterference if you will?”
“Ohmygod, did you just say cliterference?” I laugh.
“Yup. Also known as a clam jam…but I’m pretty sure that’s when a woman prevents another woman from getting laid,” he explains.
“Jesus. Stop. Will you please just come with me?”
“Fine. But it’ll cost you,” Logan negotiates.
“Anything.”
“Careful there, Dr. Matthews,” Logan warns. “I’ve got a lot of needs that aren’t being met at the moment.”
I quirk a brow at him.
“What? You want me to blow you in exchange for coming to this event?” I ask before shrugging a shoulder. “It’d probably be worth it.”
Logan’s eyes widen as a smirk dances on his lips.
“If you’re offering, I’m not gonna turn it down,” he says, trying hard to hide his laughter. “But it seems a little fucked up to block Sarah from getting laid just to end up with my dick in your mouth. I might be a dude, but I’m pretty sure that still counts as cheating.”
Does it?
Does a blowjob between buddies count as infidelity?
Wait, why the fuck am I actually contemplating this?
And when did this conversation turn serious?
A loud, blaring alarm pulls me from my spiral.
“Shit. I gotta roll,” Logan says, abandoning his book and coffee and practically sprinting out the door.
But I’m hot on his heels because I feel like this conversation needs closure.
Except I can’t talk because he’s got his phone on speakerphone.
“Life Flight Boston General, Metro Dispatch. Scene call to a medical emergency involving an exploded propane tank out in Concord. Two burn victims. One with minor injuries will be transported by EMS. Time out 15:32. Please advise when ready for your coordinates.”
“Metro Dispatch, LF1449 responding, copy scene call in Concord. 15:32. We have two crew on board. Fuel on board: one hour forty minutes. Stand by for coordinates.”
“Copy.”
I follow Logan, not giving a shit that I’m late for conference.
Watching him in the zone like this is fascinating.
I’ve never seen this side of things. I know he’s been doing this for years, and I’m just starting out, but I can’t imagine doing anything with the amount of confidence he’s exuding right now.
It’s that ease and expertise that remind me Logan is eight years older than me.
He pushes into the flight locker room with me right behind him.
The call is still connected as he rips his locker open and pulls his flight suit out, quickly tugging it on. I imagine it’s as familiar to him as my scrubs and white coat are to me.
The suit is navy blue with a red and white stripe down the side. He has a medical cross patch on one arm and the caduceus on the other. The hospital’s logo is over his chest, and scrawled across his back is his flight number.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” I murmur.
Logan startles when I speak.
“Call’s still connected,” he whispers, continuing to gear up.
“Shit. Right,” I say stupidly.
Placing the phone on the arm of the chair, Logan props a booted foot up on the bench and laces his shoe. “Ready for the coordinates.”
When dispatch begins speaking, he stops tying and starts turning the dial on his watch.
“Nineteen degrees, twenty-four minutes, forty-two seconds South, and fifty degrees, thirty-five minutes, fifteen point six three five six seconds West. Repeat for confirmation of correct transmission.”
Logan repeats it perfectly and says, “Headed to chopper. All logs complete. Time to takeoff, two minutes.”
“Roger that.”
“10-4.”
When Logan moves to exit the locker room, I’m blocking his path.
“Sorry,” I mumble, totally in a daze.
“See you tonight,” he says, his voice all business as he runs out the door.
In the silence of the locker room, I feel funny.
Like I don’t know what just happened or how I feel about it.
I’m more worried about Logan returning safely than I am about the patient he’s racing toward.
I’m a little jealous that Logan’s flight nurse gets to see him in action.
I’m a little turned on because apparently, I have a competence kink, and I’m still trying to process the blowjob conversation.
Not to mention, I’m now really late for conference, and I don’t have a good excuse.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, not giving me a break.
Sarah
Where the hell are you? Fetterman’s getting pissed.
Chase
I was helping the Life Flight pilot with something for his call. I’m on my way.
I figure even though it’s still a lie, it’s close enough to the truth that I won’t have to work too hard to keep the story straight.
When I enter the conference room a few minutes later, Dr. Fetterman, our attending today, stares me down.
“Dr. Matthews, we have a Life Flight crew for a reason. Your job is to be here, in this conference meeting, learning everything you can about the patient they’ve gone to retrieve.
Their job is to play air taxi to the critically ill and wounded.
I’m certain they don’t need any assistance from you in getting that helicopter off the ground. ”
“Yes, sir,” I reply obediently, even though my blood is boiling in my veins.
I remember Logan saying he felt like all he does is play Air Rideshare, and now, Dr. Fetterman is feeding into that. Is that really how people see the Life Flight and EMS operators? Those people are just as essential as the surgeons, and I resent anyone who thinks differently.
My concentration is shit from the start, but it doesn’t get any better when Sarah leans in and whispers, “So, are you bringing anyone to Dr. Porter’s New Year’s dinner?”
“Yes,” I answer immediately, knowing I’ll do whatever it takes to convince Logan to tag along.