I hand Dax his paperwork, careful that our hands don’t touch again, and look down to notice the splint is already placed around his ankle. I didn’t even see him put it on. Maybe he didn’t think I was capable, and honestly, I didn’t want him to see the reaction he had on me with my trembling fingers. Pathetic, I know.
I hold the curtain open for them and hear Jameson behind me say, “Hopefully, we will see you tomorrow, Liv.”
I briefly turn around to reply, but when I turn back, I am met with a wall of a rock-hard body. It takes a second to realize that my body is embarrassingly splayed flush against his and only a second longer to register how much of him I can physically feel. His hand quickly comes to the small of my back to steady me. Unable to move, I stayed there paralyzed. Neither of us moves. His chest presses into mine, and I can feel his breath next to my cheek.
“I hope to see you tomorrow, Liv,” he whispers.
Goose bumps spread across my neck and down my arms. His grip on my back tightens for an instant before releasing me. He steps around me and strolls out with his friend, only limping slightly now that the splint is on.
I stay frozen in place. I would have thought the whole thing was a dream if the faint blond hair on my arms were not still standing at attention.
I look at the nurses’ station and see Megan’s mouth hanging open.
She mouths, “What the fuck.”
A smile spread across her face. Okay, I guess it's safe to assume that I didn’t imagine the incident. Wow, that was intense. I walk over to Megan, and she looks at me with wide eyes.
“What was that about?” She laughs.
I shake a little because I don’t know what to say. “I think I’m going to take my fifteen-minute break now. Do you mind covering my patients for a minute?” She quickly agrees as I give her a brief report on pending labs. I retreat to the lounge with my iced coffee in hand, hoping to cool myself off. Condensation is dripping off the cup onto my hand. Unfortunately, it’s been sitting out there for a while, and it isn’t exactly cold anymore. Not that it would have helped anyway. I wish I could go home, get my old faithful pocket-sized shegasm out and release some of this sexual tension. Note to self, purchase a new toy with two-day shipping.
The rest of the night passes by with the regular events for a night shift in the ED. I glance up at the clock. It’s three a.m., and I decided I better eat my dinner now while it’s slow. Things have died down a bit, but the ER is so unpredictable. Never say the wordquietfor fear of eliciting some kind of massive influx of patients. It’s the unspoken rule. The break room is empty, and I sigh in relief to have thirty minutes of uninterrupted time. I grab my food, make some tea and sit at the farthest table in the staff lounge. Pulling my phone out, I wonder if those bitches have remembered to update me on all the great times I am missing out on tonight. Several message alerts come across the scene. A few texts and videos were sent from Emma and our other bestie, Ainsley. I scroll back and start at the beginning of the messages.
A few pictures come through first. Emma has her arm draped around a hot-looking guy kissing her cheek as she takes the selfie. What a nut. That girl has fun no matter what. It’s like she lives every day as if it were her last. She was also the best study partner anyone could ask for in nursing school. After we studied, we always had a beer at the local dive bar down the road. I click on the text message and see a pic of my friends, each tossing a shot back. The caption says, “Friday night shots.” I noticed the fourth shot on the bar with my name written with a Sharpie on a napkin. “Wish you were here” comes through next—another couple of selfies with mutual friends from school. I see Brodie in the background with our other friends, Chrispin and Zach. They were all on the dance floor, and I couldn’t help but feel sad that I wasn't there.
I’ve missed Brodie. He’s been my on-and-off boyfriend since high school. Before that, he was my childhood friend. I’ve known this guy since I was like five years old. I was crying on my first day of school, sitting inside a tire that was positioned upright on the playground mulch. The perfect hiding place. He talked to me and held my hand to help me out. We quickly became inseparable. It was always his hand that reached out to me. Whether it was to get out of a car we were packed into on our way to a party or help me onto the back of his jet ski. We were there for each other into our teenage years when we took things further than friendship.
His dad is a neurosurgeon in Houston. He left his mom when Brodie was in high school. He divorced her and remarried his office nurse. Talk about a cliché. He tossed away the woman who had stuck by his side through a grueling medical degree and raised his kids. Then he replaced her with a newer and much younger model. What a slap in the face. Brodie took it hard, and I was there for him through it all. I held his hand after he put a fist to the wall and again when he walked down the aisle with his new and improved wife. And he was there for me when my father died of a tragic hit-and-run accident. The driver left the scene, and my dad was brought in with life-threatening injuries.
My mom, an operating room nurse, received a trauma alert call that night on her scheduled work shift. She got the biggest shock of her life when she realized that the trauma—alert victim was her husband. My dad. I’ll never forget that night. I rushed over to the hospital when I found out, and Brodie was the one to drive me when I called him. He never left my side, still holding my hand even at the funeral and in the following weeks during my stages of grief.
We should make it through the four years of separation. Brodie is away in Houston for college. That was the reason I was going to Houston for graduate school. This would give us a chance; we needed to be with each other. More committed. Let’s see where our relationship goes. I had even had dinners with his mother on my days off. I had no reason to believe otherwise that we wouldn’t end up together. He was finishing up school and starting the graduate architect program. I would be starting a graduate program too. Those plans came to a screeching halt tonight. The following message was a video from Ainsley. I opened it and almost choked on my reheated catfish.
Ainsley: Oh, Liv. We’re so sorry. We needed you to know. Call us when you can.
My heart pounded against my chest as I opened the video. What. The. Actual. Fuck. The video is of a scene at the same bar. The dance floor is packed, and empty glasses are scattered on the high-top tables. The level of drunkenness has increased. The video zooms in on Brodie off in the corner by the bathroom. He has a girl with long black hair pushed up against the wall. One of his hands is on her upper thigh as he holds her leg around his waist. She has a short black skirt with a purple halter top. Her breasts mashed against his chest. They are grinding against each other to the music, and his face devours her neck. Her head is thrown back in ecstasy, and his other hand is locked onto her fake boob. The video ends. I can only imagine what happened next. Who was she? Did he take her home? Or did they just screw right at the bar?
I sat there completely shocked, my heart hammering in my chest. The video was clear. That was Brodie, my boyfriend, sucking face with another girl. My fingers hover over my phone. The urge to call him and scream through the phone that I saw everything was burning through me. But I am at work, and I can’t break down here. I also won’t give him the satisfaction of lying to me. I’m guessing he will try to deny it all. But I don’t need any proof. I saw it with my own eyes. Is she with him now? Is she lying in his bed? The thought sickens me. The deception is too great to be undone.
With trembling fingers, I type out a quick reply to Ainsley and Emma.
Liv: Who is that with Brodie?!
Ainsley: We don’t know. One minute we were all dancing, and the next, he was against the wall making out with that girl. Then they disappeared.
Emma: We’re so sorry, Liv. Are you ok?
Liv: Honestly? I’m not sure. I have to finish my shift. I’ll talk to you guys tomorrow.
Ainsley: Call us if you need us. We’ll see you tomorrow. Get some rest. We love you.
Yeah, sure,I think to myself.Will sleep come quickly?
My appetite is gone, and I throw my food in the trash. No tears came. I feel shocked and hollow. The discarded fish will fill the room with an unholy stench, just like the video filled my mind. I leave the break room and head out to finish my shift. Finally, it’s six forty-five, and my relief has just arrived. I need to get the hell out of here. I only have two patients to report on, and there isn’t much to say—a complaint of dental pain and a person with a migraine seeking pain meds. I get my things from the lounge and leave feeling completely empty. I unlock my Jeep and slide in. A tear falls down my cheek as I pull out of the parking lot and drive back to my apartment in silence.
The sounds of Dua Lipa’s song, “We’re Good,”fill my Jeep’s speakers. I must have left the radio on when I left for work last night. I get to the apartment, throw my stuff on the counter, and go into the shower. I strip my clothes off, leave them in a pile on the floor, and step into the shower. I let the steam hit my face and tried to wash off the memories of the video.
As I replay the day in my head, I see Dax’s face and let out a libidinous exhale. I feel a throbbing in my clit, but I don’t have the energy to fulfill that need right now. My emotions are like a roller coaster: the highest high and the lowest low. I get out of the shower and throw on a tank top and pajama bottoms. Grabbing a Benadryl, I poured myself a shot of whiskey. Hoping to numb the pain, I toss the pill and the strong liquor back. I’m off for the next couple of days. My friends should be here in a few hours. I hit the pillow and curl into my bed. I thought replays of Brodie and the bimbo would wreak havoc on my brain, but instead, images of Dax fill my thoughts as I drift off into a complete slumber.
