Chapter 1 #3
“I recommend white vinegar for the stains. Probably sooner than later.” Using my elbow to stab past his arm, I grab my stuff and barge out the door, barely registering as I almost collide with someone in the hallway. “Oh, shit — fuck, I’m so sorry —” I glance up. My words die in my throat.
The harsh fluorescent lighting bounces off the reflections of glitter in the woman’s clothes and makeup, brightening her face.
She looks scared. And familiar. Streaks of mascara run down her cheeks, a clear indication that she’s been crying.
There’s something about the doe-eyed look on her face that makes me want to ask if she’s okay.
I’m not sure why. I don’t even know her. Don’t even know her name —
“Well, at least we know that you’re capable of saying the word ‘sorry’ without bursting into flames.”
The woman's gaze flicks back and forth between Theo and me like a nervous bird. Without another word, she scurries off down the hall, shadowing some man wearing a gray faded hoodie and a red snake on the back whose brisk pace outmatches hers.
I turn to look at Theo. “I was talking to her.”
“And now you’re talking to me. All is well in the world.”
My irritation escalates to a whole new volatile level. “Considering that you’re still breathing and talking in front of me, I’d say all is not well in my world.”
Eyes on me, his mouth pulls up into a tiny smirk as if I’ve said something exceptional. “That’s a bit dramatic, Hollister. All I ever do is try to make your time at this hospital a little more entertaining.”
My fingers practically itch to wrap around his neck and squeeze until his windpipe fucking pops. “You call this entertaining? Irritating me and trying to get a reaction out of me day after day like some kind of an incessant mosquito?”
“Well, it’s certainly entertaining for me. And who knows, maybe you'll find it entertaining too. Once you loosen up a bit.”
“Unfortunately, my definition of entertainment involves seeing you horizontal —”
His smile widens. “In your bed?”
“In a grave. Preferably decapitated.”
His face falls. He’s about to open his mouth to quip back with something sarcastic, I’m sure, but right that second one of the night shift nurses walks by us and Theo momentarily breaks eye contact with me to wink at her.
The nurse giggles and walks towards the pediatric ward.
His gaze follows her, blatantly checking her out from head to toe. Sick.
Once the nurse has disappeared out of sight, Theo turns his attention back to me. “I’m sorry, Dr. Moore. What were you saying?”
My patience, already stretched thin, snaps like a frayed thread. I flip him off. “Get fucked.”
“That’s a strange way of apologizing for spilling coffee on me.”
“My bad. Next time I’ll be sure to switch it for sulphuric acid. Now, get out of my way.”
He doesn’t. Instead, he just steps in front of me, blocking my path for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. “Why don’t you try that again? This time with the word please?”
Very well. “Theo, please get out of my way so that I’m not forced to punch you in the throat.”
A deep chuckle vibrates out of him. “That desperate to cop a feel, huh?”
“Am I really that transparent?”
“What can I say? I can read you like a book.”
“I’m surprised you can read at all.”
He shrugs. “It’s one of my many, many talents.”
“In addition to what? Being a gigantic pain in my ass?”
He tilts his head, grinning like an absolute imbecile. I don’t know, maybe he likes being humiliated by women. Specifically, me. Maybe it’s his version of a fucked-up power play.
“Causing you pain is the last thing on my mind, Hollister,” he says, his voice still low. “But if pain is what you’re into, then I have no qualms about asking you to bend over for me.”
I’m sure my face visibly cringes. “Really? A sex joke? How professional.”
“Not joking at all, love. Who knows? You might just hate how much you like it.”
“Funny. I have the same theory about kicking you in the balls.”
“Ask nicely and I might allow it.”
Normally this is where I would’ve quipped back, gotten the last word in.
Because if there’s anything that ticks me off more than Theo Carter himself, it’s losing to Theo Carter.
So normally, this is where I would’ve told him to go fuck himself with the cactus they keep in the hospital waiting area, but not tonight.
Tonight, I just don’t have the energy to partake in his petty games.
I inhale, exhale, tell myself that it would be extremely unhygienic to gouge a colleague’s eyeballs out with my bare hands, and take a step back.
“As much as I’d love to take you up on that offer —” I say to him, “— I think I’m going to head back home and get some rest. A six-hour-long surgery is exhausting enough, I don’t need to stand here and listen to your soul-sucking voice. Good night, Dr. Carter.”
Theo’s smirk wavers for a second and his scrutinizing gaze sweeps across my face. “Good night? Shit, Holly, did I break you?” He lifts his finger to poke at my forehead, and I lurch back.
God, someone needs to present me with an award for the sheer amount of self-restraint I’ve practiced tonight.
“Is it because of the sex joke? Oh, come on. If I knew you were that desperate, I’d be more than happy to oblige.”
I narrow my eyes into slits and stand my ground. You’re rising above, Holly. You’re better than this. You will not let him get a rise out of you. I repeat the words to myself like a prayer.
“Of course, you’d have to buy me dinner first and an expensive bottle of champagne for me to even consider having sex with you, but I can see it happening —”
I take a deep breath in through my nose. You are the bigger person, Holly. Rising above. You’re rising above.
“But in all honesty, if things have gotten that bad for you, I understand. Just this once, all right? And only because you’re asking so nicely. We can’t make a habit out of it.”
Annoyance burns through my chest. If he doesn’t stop talking, I’m going to make a habit out of stabbing his face.
“On-call room down the hall is free if you want to go ahead and get started, Hollister. I’ll be there in a minute to give you a helping hand —”
I take a step toward him and jab my finger into his chest. “Stop calling me that.”
Fuck being the bigger person.
My blood fizzes. A surge of electricity courses through me, tingling from the tip of my finger where it touches him, all the way down to my toes.
“There she is,” Theo replies in an irritatingly calm manner as he steps back, causing my hand to drop.
He shoves both his hands down the pockets of his pathetic coffee-stained lab coat.
“There’s no need to pretend to be this holier-than-thou person in front of me.
I’m already familiar with the devil that hides underneath. ”
“Fuck. You.”
He snorts derisively. “There’s also no need to beg for it, love. I already know that’s what you want. I’m quite hard to resist.”
“I would rather pluck out my own eyeballs with a rusted spoon than beg you to fuck me.”
“Lying isn’t a good look on you.”
“Neither is wanting to waste my time faking an orgasm.”
Theo arches an eyebrow in amusement, obviously taking my insult as some sort of challenge. Neither one of us backs away. We never do. I should’ve known there’s no use being a bigger person when it comes to Theo. He always manages to bring out the worst in me.
I don’t like who I turn into around him.
I wouldn’t go as far as saying I hate the guy, only because he is not that important to me.
Dislike with a burning passion? Sure. Do I wish the Purge was real so that I could publicly dissect that jawline for everyone to watch and enjoy?
Yes. But that doesn’t mean I hate him. That’s just me being me.
Hate is a feeling. A very strong feeling.
And I feel nothing for Theo Carter. The man is as irrelevant to me as a white crayon.
He has this special talent of always managing to get under my skin.
I have no idea why he does it. If my hobby is slightly murdering men who piss me off, then Theo’s is to annoy the living crap out of me, until the vein in my forehead pops.
He’s like a psychotic version of Tinkerbell.
Instead of needing constant attention to survive, he needs my constant and unadulterated irritation.
Shooting the fucker one last glare (and probably adding another ten years to his miserable life in the process), I shove past his shoulder and walk away. I pick up my pace, determined to put a few yards of distance between us, and to my relief, this time he doesn’t come after me.
It feels nice. Comforting. It’s the first thing that’s gone my way tonight.
My steps quicken and I keep my head down as I walk through the dimly lit hallway that seems to stretch on forever.
I pass by the ER and breathe in the familiar scents of the hospital on my way out: antiseptic and gauze, some astringent, along with a whiff of antibacterial detergent.
There are a couple of patients with little to mild trauma — drunk driving, bar brawls, alcohol intoxication.
All very typical for an ER post eleven p.m. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Tucking my hands deeper in my pockets, I walk through the sliding glass doors and step outside, immediately wincing as the chilly October air hits my face. My phone buzzes. I pull it out from my coat pocket and see three text messages.
One is a bit old.
UNKNOWN: Roses are red, violets are blue, aren’t you glad I found you…
And two are from right now.
UNKNOWN: How DOES it feel? Killing someone?
Attached below is a picture of Cami bartending.
Followed by another text.
UNKNOWN: Want me to show you?