Chapter 5 – QUINN
QUINN
One week later
Rhett: You never texted me back. I waited a week.
Me: What are you talking about? This is the first time you’ve texted.
Rhett: Nope. I texted you hi right before you got in the Uber.
Me: *Eye roll emoji* That doesn’t count.
Rhett: Fine. Let me try again. Hi.
I snicker as I read his texts, a light, giddy feeling taking residence in my belly. I lean against the wall by the side of the OR, and I can already feel my smile. It’s annoying me. He hadn’t texted me and I told myself I was fine with it. That it was better if I didn’t get to know him.
I haven’t told anyone about him yet. Not about our night. Nothing.
If I do, then there’ll be questions. Commentary.
Deep analysis and follow-up. Telling your girlfriends about a guy is like going into surgery.
You have to be strategic and plan out your approach, otherwise you’ll be fucked before you make the first slice and stuck in a bloody mess you now have to clean up.
Me: Hi.
Rhett: *Eye roll emoji* So generic.
A laugh bursts from me.
Me: Clever left the building about eight hours ago. I’m on hour sixteen of twenty-four.
Rhett: Ouch. That’s rough. Glad I’m not your patient at hour twenty-three. What kind of doctor are you?
Me: Too personal.
Rhett. Ugh. Fine. I know you’re good at it, but do you like it?
Me: Are you talking about sex or being a doctor?
Rhett: Ah, I see we’re picking up where we left off. No complaints from me, by the way. But how about you answer for both?
Me: Yes, and yes.
Rhett: I have to go, but I’m going to leave you with this question. What’s your favorite thing outside of the hospital to do?
Me: Snowboarding. Particularly half-pipe. And spending time with my friends. I’m lucky enough to call my brothers that too. What’s your answer?
I lock my phone and slip it into my pocket.
I likely shouldn’t have asked him. I know it won’t go anywhere I want it to.
I’m trying to take this as slowly as humanly possible without getting overly excited.
The fact that I get butterflies every time I think about him or his name pops up on my screen is both thrilling and terrifying.
But for now, I’m taking it as it rolls and not putting stock into anything.
Four Hours Later
Rhett: I run a charity I won’t tell you about because it’ll give too much of me away and we’re not doing that. It’s for underprivileged kids and considering I grew up the opposite, giving back and paying it forward makes me insanely happy. If I’m not working, I’m doing this charity.
Me: Did you read that in the How to Make a Girl Swoon handbook?
Rhett: Nope. It was posted on the stalker’s manifesto webpage. JK. In all seriousness, that’s real. The charity is in my parents’ name because I started the foundation after they died about five years ago in a car accident.
Me: I’m so sorry. That’s awful. But I think it’s amazing you started a charity to help kids.
Rhett: They did a lot to help people whenever they could. What time is it there?
Me: About three a.m.
Rhett: And why are you still awake? I honestly just realized it’s after one here. Don’t you get to sleep on these long shifts?
Me: Sometimes I get to sleep. Sometimes it’s an hour or two. I’m on the roof of my hospital waiting for a helicopter. The trauma surgeons are on their way up, but I came up a few minutes early to get a breather. It’s beautiful up here. Cold, but the city is everywhere, and it’s so cool.
I snap a picture and attach it.
Rhett: Wow. That’s amazing. You have stars. I didn’t expect that.
Me: Only at this time of night can you really see them.
Rhett: I have a view of the mountains. *Attaches picture*
Me: That’s so pretty.
Rhett: I won’t have it much longer.
Something hiccups in my chest. I don’t reply. I like texting with him, but beyond that is asking for trouble. He must get the hint because he presses on.
Rhett: I hope your trauma goes well. You honestly may have the coolest job ever. As long as you suck my dick in between.
Me: Har, har.
Rhett: In all seriousness, I think being a doctor is incredible. You save lives.
Me: You help young lives become better
Rhett: Not the same thing, but I try. Text me when you get home or when you wake up. I might be starting to get a little addicted to you. I want more of your brain in my texts.
My brain. Not my body. Not my pussy or tits. My brain. I shouldn’t love that. But I do. The helicopter blades whump through the air in the distance, and Bennett Lawson, chief of trauma surgery, along with Keegan Fritz Powell—because the patient is pregnant and she’s an OB—come in beside me.
Me: Get some sleep. I’ll text you at some point.
I try to leave it there. I try to let it go. But there’s no way. I text him when I get home. I text him when I should be sleeping. I even text him when I wake, and I don’t care if it makes me sound like a non-rhyming Cat in the Hat.
He texts me too. All the time. All kinds of questions that are fun and different, and nothing too serious or personal. He’s right. It’s become addictive.
And instinctively, I know it’s just the start.
One month later
Rhett: If you could pick one superpower to have, what would it be?
Me: It’s too cliché for me to say heal the sick, right?
Rhett: Yes. We’re talking traditional superpowers.
Me: Either teleporting or flying. I’m super lazy sometimes and impatient, and when I want to get somewhere, I just want to get there without the hassle. What about you?
Rhett: In theory, being able to read people’s minds, but that sounds horrible at the same time.
Me: Edward Cullen hated it.
Rhett: Who’s that?
Me: *Eye roll emoji* From Twilight.
Rhett: I was already an adult when those movies came out.
Me: *GIF of shirtless sparkly Edward*
Rhett: I don’t see the appeal.
Me: They were books first, but I’ll let it slide. You also didn’t actually answer.
Rhett: You took flying. That was mine, and we can’t both do the same thing. It’s like ordering the same meal as your date in a restaurant. Can’t happen because then there’s no sharing or tasting. Maybe super strength, but meh.
Me: You’re the first date I’ve ever split my food with.
Rhett: So that was a date? Just so we’re clear, and when I ask you out again, it’ll be our second.
Me: I never agreed to go on another date with you.
Rhett: I haven’t asked you yet, but I will, and you’ll say yes because you have a not-so-secret (or small) crush on me.
My lips bounce, and I shake my head incredulously. This man has an ego.
Me: Is that so? Funny, that’s news to me.
Rhett: But you’re not denying it. You’ve been talking to me nearly every day for five weeks. If you weren’t interested or enjoying it, you’d have stopped by now.
Hard to argue that.
“Earth to Quinn. Come in Quinn,” Hayes shouts at me, his hands cupped around his mouth so his voice carries. “Who are you texting that’s making you smile like Bride of Chucky?”
I laugh. Oops. Busted.
Me: Gotta go. Friends time.
I don’t wait for a reply before I slip my phone back into my purse. “Sorry. Just a friend.”
“A friend who makes you blush and yes, smile like a psycho doll?” Braelyn isn’t having it. “Spill the tea.”
“No tea. It’s nothing.”
“Liar.” Crew, my twin brother, points at me. “Your ears are turning red.”
Ugh. Worst tell in the world.
I wave them away even though I’m acutely aware that I have everyone’s eyes on me. “It’s a work thing,” I lie. I don’t even fully know why. I like keeping Rhett to myself.
I pick up my drink and take a sip. Roman really does make the world’s best margaritas. It’s Cinco de Mayo, and we’re all at his and Braelyn’s place, chilling by his cool indoor/outdoor pool on his roof deck, drinking all the drinks, while Roman grills up carne asada and chicken for our taco bar.
“Is it your boss?” Skylar questions around her mouthful of chips and guacamole. She’s sipping lemonade, much to her chagrin, because she’s pregnant. Her husband, Aston—who started as fake but is now real—keeps his hand protectively on her belly.
I snort a laugh. “You mean Limpdick or my mother?”
“You can’t call your boss that,” Crew admonishes.
I give him a pointed look. “Why? Mom does, and so does every resident and nurse who works for him.”
“Fine. Not your boss,” Skylar picks up, unwilling to let this go. “But not work either. You had that smile. That I’ve got a fun secret smile.”
I glower. “I did not.”
“You did,” Brae maintains. “Get over it and tell us.”
“Is it forbidden?” Sky’s eyebrows bounce suggestively. “Is that why you haven’t told us? Please tell me it’s forbidden.”
I sigh and flop back in my chaise, taking a long pull of my drink as I do because I’m going to need it. I point at Crew. “Earmuffs.”
Crew groans. “Gross. I don’t want to hear about you having sex.”
“Then like I said, earmuffs.”
“Crew, get your ass over here and help me with the grill. I have to make the queso and more guac since Miss I’m Eating for Two is eating all of it.”
Skylar flips Roman off. “Not my fault. It’s delicious. Besides, I can’t eat the steak or the chicken. Animal products have not been agreeing with me. I’ll stick to this. Oh, and that queso you’re making. I’m all for that, but not too spicy.”
Roman rolls his eyes. “I love it when people tell me how to cook.”
“Don’t celebrity chef me.”
“Only because you’re pregnant can you get away with this.”
“Works for me.” Skylar hitches up a shoulder in a devil-may-care way, winks at him, and sips her lemonade in her cute pink bikini that shows off her adorable bump.
“Um, can we focus here?” Braelyn interjects. “Quinn is getting off the hook.”
Shit. I was hoping they’d forgotten by now.
Aston throws a hand up. “I’ll come help with the cooking.” He climbs off the chaise, kisses his wife, then goes over to the grill.
“I’ll do… something that means I don’t have to hear about you having sex.”
I snicker at Hayes, but he goes over to the grill, and now it’s just us.
Brae pokes me. “This is going to be good. I can tell.”
“He’s just a guy I met a little over a month ago. I was on a bad dating app date, and after walking out on my date, this guy made sure I met him.”