Well, I have straight teeth now, too, so fuck him.
I march over to Dr. Fields, refusing to be cowed. Let him meet me now, to see how well I function despite his previous efforts. I put on my best dazzling smile.
“Ah, Kendall. We’ve got a live one here. A third year.” Dr. Fields gestures to Grant. Or Dr. Wyndham now, I suppose. “Dr. Wyndham, this is Kendall Hodges. She’s one of the best nurses I’ve ever worked with.”
I falter a bit, then stick out my hand. Grant’s eyes flick overme, lightning fast, so brief I almost don’t catch it. His lips part, and his eyes widen a little. He seems gobsmacked. Ha! Let him stew in his regret.
“Nice to meet you.” He clasps my hand with his warm, dry palm. “I look forward to working with you over the next few months.”
I stare at him so long his brow starts to furrow. No hint of recognition sparks in his eyes. He doesn’t flinch.
I’ve pictured this moment, of course. In my fervent imaginings, I’m wearing my best figure-hugging dress and a pair of four-inch heels so I’m a bit taller than him. I have on expensive jewelry and an air of high-powered importance. He cowers under the force of my greatness. I hardly look at him as I step over his prone form writhing and sobbing on the floor.
That fantasy slides down the drain.
The son of a bitch doesn’t know who I am.
To be fair, I’ve lost a lot of weight since high school, albeit unintentionally—turns out addressing food insecurity and an untreated medical condition had that side effect for me, though I’ve still got some curves. I wear my contacts a lot. I get my hair professionally done and I’ve had my teeth fixed, plus I know how to apply makeup now without comic book levels of contour. I have a different last name after dropping my dad’s, and I go by Kendall instead of Kenzie.
Fine. I’ve changed a lot. Still, I can’t believe he doesn’t know me. I’ve hated him for years, and he doesn’t even have the decency to recognize me.
He’s looking at me, his gaze a bit intense.
“Same to you.” I nod at him, making a quick decision. I bite my lip to keep from saying more. He doesn’t deserve my energy. I’ll get through the next three months with as little interaction as possible, then we’ll part ways. I try to inject some friendliness into my voice. “Dr. Fields and Dr. Planck are the best in the business.”
I step back toward the office door. My body lurches, and I can’t seem to relax my shoulders. Dr. Fields speaks up.
“Kendall, you’re from Eastern Kentucky too, right?” His voice thunders in the quiet office.
My shoulders inch further toward my ears.
“Oh yeah? Whereabouts?” Grant sounds like he’s actually trying to be polite, covering for the evil ogre I know him to be.
My stomach dips. Hell no. I’m not doing this with him.
“Nowhere you would have heard of, I bet.” I spin around without saying anything further. I would rather look like a weirdo than have this conversation.
I glance back at Dr. Fields, who eyes me with some concern. I scurry out into the hallway, one word playing on repeat in my head.
Fuck.
2
GRANT
This nurseloathesme, and I can’t figure out why.
Animosity radiates off Kendall in waves as she preps a patient’s skin for surgery, a knee replacement on a fifty-nine-year-old woman. She’s scrubbing in today instead of circulating. She hums as she preps the OR and offers pleased smiles to everyone else in the room.
She turns to the physical therapy student who’s observing the surgery. “Let me know if you start to feel hot,” she says to him, “because it’s not hot in here, and if you’re warm you might be about to faint.”
He salutes her, and she mimics the gesture, chuckling to herself as she continues her work.
When she nears me, though, she clenches her jaw. Her shoulders stiffen if I so much as speak a word to her, like the very idea of my presence sets her on edge. I don’t get it. We’ve barely had any interaction. What have I done to earn such ire?
It’s not an exaggeration to say she’s nice to everyone but me. I would go so far as to call her gregarious, her laughter given easily and her voice carrying down the hallways of our workplace.
And look, she’s also beautiful, not that it matters. Today, her bronze hair lies in a braid down her back, though she has it tucked under her scrub cap for the surgery. She’s tall, only a few inches shorter than my own six foot one, with long legs and delicious curves. I’ve always kept things professional and appropriate with my coworkers, but it’s hard not to notice how pretty she is, and I’ve snuck a few glances at her over the week we’ve been working together.
