But I’ve never been good at shutting up when I’m supposed to.
“I just … it was a joke, and in poor taste. You might be surprised to hear I’m happy to be working with you.”
He throws a skeptical glance my way, nostrils flaring in response before turning his gaze back to the computer.
“I mean it,” I start again. “I’ve learned a lot, and yeah you push people to be better, but it’s in a way that a good surgeon does, not just to be an asshole. I think we get along, don’t you? I mean, it—”
“Keeton,” he says, his voice stern but a little softer this time. His eyes flick to the side and down to me, holding my stare for a minute. “It’s okay, really. You don’t have to.”
I nod in half-hearted acceptance, watching again as he scrolls in silence reviewing vitals before visiting each bedside to check post-op dressings.
When he’s satisfied with what he sees, he turns to leave, and I take that opportunity to snag his wrist.
He looks down at our connection, at my bravery, and I squeeze once before letting go. “I’ll drop it, I swear. I just want to make it clear that I didn’t mean it. I don’t want you to look at me and see someone who talks shit about you behind your back.”
He leans in, or maybe I do, but somehow we’re another step closer to each other, the space between us shrinking. “Believe me,” he rasps, his tongue darting out to brush over his bottom lip. “That’s not what I think when I look at you.”
Oh?
I inhale sharply, the act causing my chest to brush against his arm, and a rush of boldness comes forward. “What do you see, then?”
He’s quiet, and my mind begins to spiral, filling in the negative possibilities.A green resident. My boss’s daughter. An assignment.
I huff out an awkward laugh, stepping back to give some air between us. “Nevermind, ahh, but … we’re good?”
The moment seems to have broken for him too as he nods in acceptance and tilts his head toward his office.
We leave post-op in comfortable silence, and before we reach his office door, I remember the conversation that Martin and I were having. “So um…I hear that you and Dr. Anderson have a pretty intense case this week.”
Dr. Andrews’ steps don’t falter, but his eyes flick to the side briefly before going forward. “I wouldn’t call a double transplant intense. Rare and delicate, yes.”
“Do you think I’ll maybe get a chance to observe?”
We reach the door to his office, and Colt rifles through his pocket for his keys. He lets a slight smirk stretch across his face, huffing along with it. “There are more experienced residents who are dying to scrub in, Annaliese. Don’t take it personally but that’s a big ask.”
He opens the door and reaches to flick the light on then gestures for me to go first. I immediately slump down in the chair in front of his desk as he moves around to sit in his.
“I know,” I huff out. “It was worth a shot. I just mean that if there is even breathing room for a little mouse to stand around, I’d volunteer for the spot.”
When he smirks again while powering up his laptop, I’ve realized that he technically hasn’t said no, and when I see an open opportunity, I nab it.
I sit up properly in my chair, scooting it forward until my knees bump his desk. “I’m not asking you to bump the other residents or techs that are assisting. I’d be fine if I didn’t scrub in, I swear. I’d just love the opportunity to watch.”
Colt’s eyes flick to mine, and I swear I feel my heart patter for a moment. I’ve had plenty of opportunities to marvel at his talent and his gruff demeanor, but I’ve realized he rarely makes eye contact in conversation. And right now, with his shaggy brown hair swooping over his forehead and his midnight blue eyes staring right at me, I’m speechless.
“You really want to watch this, don’t you?”
I scooch forward until I’m sitting on the edge of my chair, nodding eagerly. “I’ll do all the grunt work. I’ll be the runner. I’ll stand in the corner absolutely silent. Hell, I’ll dab the sweat from your forehead if you need it.” Witnessing a team surgery like this would make the last few months of torture absolutely worth it. It’d be the drug I need to breathe new life into my veins.
I clasp my fingers together and bring them to my chin, nothing short of begging is beneath me at this point. I’m practically prostituting myself out to watch this case, and that thought has me looking at the corner of Colt’s desk; Martin’s comment about walking in to find me getting bent over the corner of said desk replays in my head, causing me to smirk. I run my tongue along the inside of my cheek in an attempt to hide it, but when I look up and swear I see the tips of Dr. Andrews’ ears burn red, I almost wonder if he can read my thoughts.
He sighs heavily and leans back in his chair to run his hands through his thick hair. The silence ticks on between us, and I find myself getting antsier by the second. I’m about to open my mouth to beg again when he finally grunts. “Argh, fine. I’ll see if I can add you to the team. I can’t promise anything besides watching, but be ready to scrub in just in case we need another set of hands.”
I flex my fingers together so I don’t start clapping like an excited child and stand from my seat, nearly bouncing on my heels at the prospect.
“I won’t let you down, I swear.”
“Christ, Keeton. I said you could watch the surgery; it’s not like I’m sending you off to war.”
