LEGENDARY training.
Six hours of instruction on an EMR I know better than the instructor. I’ve been using three different versions of LEGENDARY in three separate hospital systems since my first day as a peasant intern. Now, four years later, I’ve graduated from residency and I’m a pro.
The teacher has already started her spiel in the classroom when I slip in the back door. The projector at the front of the room displays a LEGENDARY login screen—complete with a UFO abducting a cow. Who comes up with their login page art?
I’m taking it as an alignment of fate that an open computer glows in the back row. I’m even more stoked that the man to my left is about my age and has a nice smile. Not to mention his physique, which is... distracting.
He leans close, grinning. “Well, lucky me.”
Oh, great. He’s a creep. Cringing internally, I turn toward him, prepared for a cheesy pickup line. Despite my misgivings, I whisper, “Lucky?” Because who can resist knowing the punch line?
“I really didn’t want to be in this row alone with that guy.” He subtly points to a wire-thin man at the computer on his other side. The guy is practically bouncing with excitement.
What kind of demon is excited about LEGENDARY training? It’s like being jazzed to learn Excel.
My gaze drifts back to the cute man.
Not a pickup line, then.
A relieved truth.
I want to laugh, but I hold back, still unsure whether I’m being played in some way.
He smiles again. It’s areallynice smile. “You look normal,” he whispers. “And bynormal, I mean you look properly peeved at having to spend six hours in the jaws of LEGENDARY hell.”
Despite my inner giggle, I try to pay attention when the teacher instructs us to open the training folders in front of us.
The man complies, scanning over user instructions. He leans in again. “Why so late?”
“Because the HR douche wouldn’t let me take a new ID photo.”
At that, his attention drops to the badge clipped to the collar of my white button-up, where the unflattering picture flaunts for all to see. I fight the urge to cover it. Humor gleams in his eyes, and that nice, nice smile turns devious. “Why on earth would you want to replace that masterpiece?”
I point aggressively at the photo. “Becausethisgirl looks like she’s trying to hold in a fart.”
The man chokes out a laugh awkward enough that the teacher asks if he’s okay. He nods and clears his throat with a sip of Mountain Dew Kickstart, murmuring apologies. When the instructor turns back to the projector, he side-eyes me. “It’s not that bad.”
I shove the entire badge in his face. “Sheis the ugliest I have ever been.”
“Have you disconnected your identity from the picture?”
“I claim no ties to her. She’s exiled like the heretic she is.”
“You should be nice to her. She’s a friend of mine.” He lifts his gaze, a half smile even prettier than the full thing gracing his stupid face. The man is disarming. Is he single? There’s no ring on his left hand...
I fall into the bare hints of deep green in his eyes. “I doubt that.”
“No, really. Best friends for life. I’m offended you’re so rude to her.”
Okay. So he’s charming, too. Where’s the catch? “She deserves it,” I say.
“How dare you?” He winks. “That’s my future wife you’re talking about.”
Definitely single, then. Or else in a very doomed relationship.
“Oh, yeah?” Begrudgingly enchanted, I point to my badge again. “This girl? This is the monster you’re going to marry?”
He pastes on a playful expression. “Yeah. I’m going to marry that girl.”
