Maybe he doesn’t want her to be a surgeon, and it’s not my place to meddle, but he still wants her to be a successful doctor, and for that, I need to be less of a dick.
“We won’t be best friends,” I tell her, “but I’ll work on being … more cordial.”
She cocks a brow, and for the first time since we crashed into each other three hours ago, she smiles—a gleaming, perfect smile lighting up the elevator. And goddamn, I wish she didn’t. As the smile grows on her face, I feel my heart swell.
“I can do cordial.”
I nod, reaching again to press the button that’ll lead us down to the ER. “We’re running late now. We’ll only have a few minutes to assess the patient before having to rush back to the OR for our first case. Scrub in time is 0740. It’s a double hernia repair, and the patient has a history of previous surgeries to that area, so it’ll likely be a mess. Today, you’ll watch this one.”
“I’m not an intern, Dr. Andrews. I can at least assist and suction, retract. I can do something besides stand with my hands held together.”
I lean back against the wall of the elevator, taking my time to size her up as the floors tick by. “Alright hotshot, if you’re so confident, tell me where the first incision is made for a hernia repair.”
She audibly exhales and her arms once again cross over her chest. The rage is palpable on her. I know the question rightfully pissed her off. It’s Anatomy 101, something she likely learned as a brand-new freshman in med school, but I’m begging to see her scrunch up her little nose at me once more this morning.
“Where is the incision made, princess?”
She presses her lips together, rolling them back and forth tightly before I see her eyes light up. Her posture relaxes as she leans back against the wall, mirroring my position. “It’s up the rectum, lodged right next to your shining personality. Which, if you’d like, I can try to retrieve for you while I’m there.”
A laugh escapes me, so small and quick I can’t help it. I reach a hand up to swipe it away and immediately school my expression.
Her mouth opens again, likely another smart retort on her lips when I put a hand up to stop her. “Are you always this much of a smart-ass?”
She purses her lips together to hide her own smile. “When someone is trying to undermine my intelligence? Yes.”
I like that.
Dammit, I like that too much. It’s about time we have some life inside these walls. “Fine. I’ll stop with the idiot questions, but we’re doing this my way. Today, you will watch. I’ll be quizzing you as I go. Take it seriously, show me you are capable, and you can scrub in and assist with the next. Got it?”
She nods but stays quiet. I can see the steam practically spilling from her ears as she fumes, the silence ticking on as the elevator continues its descent. When we’re just above the main floor that leads to the ER, she asks me, “So, did you always want to be a surgeon?”
“No. I said cordial. We’re not friends. We won’t be braiding each other's hair or spilling our deepest secrets.”
Her shoulders sag as she slumps with her head falling back in annoyance. “My God, I asked one question, the most basic question anyone could ask. Not what kind of cake you want me to make for your birthday or your favorite childhood board game.”
“Fine.” I pause for a moment, pretending like I’m thinking. Her ear perks up and her head swivels as her chocolate eyes search my face.
“It was for the money.”
She scoffs, brows raised in shock. “You’re lying.”
“Yup.” The doors open wide and I usher for her to go ahead of me, but she stills.
“For real, tell me. Was it for the prestige?”
“No.” I exit the elevator, not waiting for her to catch up. “Move your feet, Keeton, you’re wasting my time.”
Chapter Six
Annaliese
Thebrightlightsofthe OR shine above me, and I bask in their warmth. The surgical techs have finished laying out the instruments we’ll use for this morning’s case. Dr. Andrews stands somewhat patiently with idle hands held together in sterile gloves as we wait for anesthesia to finish.
Dr. Andrews moves toward the table and staff immediately position themselves around him while giving him ample space to work. The lights dim in the background and I look around, wondering where I can squeeze in to get a direct view of the patient. Seeing none, I opt to step back and watch the surgery on the camera’s screen.
As Dr. Andrews is about to make the first incision, he pauses, first looking at the scrub tech across from him, then scanning side to side before twisting over his shoulder to find me in the background.
Our eyes lock and his gaze lingers. Assessing.
