“Oh, my god.” She reaches out and gently shoves my shoulder. “Are you going to tease me for the rest of the day?”
“Without a doubt. We’re friends, right? Teasing comes with the territory.”
“You know, in retaliation, maybe I’ll tell you what side is your bad side.”
“That wouldn’t be retaliation. It would be a great help. I’m surprised my face hasn’t broken a camera yet.” I turn toward Jeremiah. “Sorry if I’m ruining your shots, man.”
He doesn’t bother to come out from behind the lens, squatting to shoot a photo at an upward angle. I hear another click. “This is the most fun I’ve had at work in months. Please, keep it going.”
“That’s a high compliment,” Maggie whispers to me. “He gets to go all over the world.”
“Wow. Shooting two amateurs in a warehouse in D.C. is better than New York Fashion Week? Look at us. Who would’ve thought?”
“My shoulders have finally come down from my ears, I think.” She smiles and rolls her neck to the side. “Is this what it’s like to be relaxed?”
“I’m not sure I’ve been relaxed since the late 90s, so I’m not qualified to answer.”
“You’re qualified to answer my next question.”
“Hit me, Houston.”
“In two words or less, tell me what you do for work.”
“Children. Cancer.”
“You’re a doctor?” she breathes out.
My heart hammers in my chest, a loud and poignant thing. I’m surprised she can’t hear it. “Yeah. An oncologist, specifically. What about you? What do you do?”
“Brains. Surgery.” It’s barely above a whisper, nearly discernible over the cacophony of other sounds around us. To my ears, though, she’s almost shouting.
“Holy shit, Maggie. A neurosurgeon? That’s incredible. Here I was thinking I was cool, then you roll up and knock me down five million pegs. And rightfully so.”
She pulls at the collar of her shirt, a sleeveless black top that shows off her sculpted shoulders. I follow the track of her hand as she touches the thin fabric and runs her finger down the line of her throat.
“It’s not that great,” she stresses. “I have lots of help. I’m not doing it on my own. There’s no I in team.”
My eyebrows furrow together and I cross my arms over my chest. “You’re diminishing your achievements and selling yourself short. Why?”
It’s reckless to wonder, teetering out of thewoman I’m bidding adieu to in two hourszone and into the dangerous area ofwoman I’d like to get to know on a more personal level while I fuck her brains outarena.
“In the past, I’ve been told to do just that—to diminish my achievements.” Maggie smooths her palms over her thighs, moving halfway down the length of her legs. “When you hear something so many times, you start to believe it.”
“Whoever told you that can fuck right off. Celebrate that shit. There’s less than 4,000 neurosurgeons in the United States, and I’m sitting next to one of them. Hey, everybody.” I raise my voice, and all the people on set peer at me. “Can we take a minute to appreciate how smart this woman is? She’s a goddamn genius, and she’s sitting here talking with me? I’m a lucky bastard.”
Approval flickers across the face of the woman Maggie was talking to earlier during hair and make up—her friend, if I had to take a guess. Jeremiah finally shows his face, giving me a grin. A woman off to the side covers her heart with her hand.
“I’m mortified,” Maggie says, fighting off laughter.
“But are you proud of yourself? Fuck everyone else in the world. Right now, if I asked you again what you did for work, how would you respond?”
“I’m a neurosurgeon. And I’m damn good at it.”
“That’s my girl,” I murmur, and she goes full scarlet. “Doesn’t that sound good?”
“It sounds great. In more ways than one.” She holds my gaze for two, three more beats before dropping her eyes to my thighs. She lingers there for a moment then breaks her reverie to smile at Jeremiah. “Ready for the next scene?”
“Let’s take ten, everyone, then reconvene for the second setup!” Jeremiah says.
