Page 10 of See Me After Class

Ruby's voice was reaching a feverish pitch. Any louder, and she'd sound the same as the whistles from the decade-old pressure cooker my mom purchased on one of her trips to India.

"I mean exactly what I meant the last three times we slept together," I drawled lazily, trying my best to keep my eyes open. Last night had been a long one. Ruby was a distraction. Usually, she didn't mind that.

"You're a pig, Leon Vincenzo," she replied viciously, throwing the "pig" at me with such velocity that drops of spit flew from the thin opening between her lips and settled on my nose.

I sighed and fished out my handkerchief. I opened the folds carefully and wiped my nose. "That may be true, but it doesn't stop you from coming to my room at ungodly hours and begging me to sleep with you."

I wasn't lying, for the record. For some reason, Ruby was convinced the way to my heart lay through my penis. She belonged to the group of humans who sought validation through skin, thinking that the harder she fucked, the swifter I'd fall. Unfortunately, it didn't work that way for me. Commitment wasn't my thing.

Life was too short to take that kind of baggage on my shoulders. It was enough that I had my patients to comfort and their morale to uplift. Sex was purely a survival mechanism.

I folded the napkin, taking care that each corner went exactly where it was supposed to.

A little bit of the top end hung out, annoying me. Sighing exasperatedly, I redid the whole procedure until each side fell perfectly together. Tucking it back into the pocket of my pants, I flicked a dismissive gaze at Ruby. She was standing there, her hair disheveled, her eyes red with anger, and perhaps, the beginnings of a very visual breakdown.

I didn't have time to witness it or comfort her. My stomach growled audibly.

"Ruby, I'm sorry. I never want to hurt you," I said, keeping my tone measured and reasonable. "We should stop sleeping together. You deserve someone better than this, someone who can take care of you."

The change was immediate. Her eyes widened, first with fear and then with raw urgency. "No," she whispered. "I didn't mean that. Listen, I just need a timeout. It's been an exhausting week."

"Same," I replied calmly.

"Go get something to eat," she rambled. I noticed her beginning to pick the skin on her left index finger. She did it a lot when she was nervous.

Dermatillomania, I made a mental note to myself. A condition of compulsively picking, scratching, or digging into one's own skin. Quite an effective tool to relieve stress. I'd know.

"I won't take any more of your time." Ruby licked her lips. "Maybe we can get together tonight?"

She was doing the same thing she always did. And we'd repeat this little showdown at the same time, same place tomorrow morning. It was pitiful how some people were so easy to read. That would be all the women I'd slept with at this institute. It was a huge academic and professional stimulation. But in terms of physical gratification, OFG was growing more and more mundane. There was no thrill, no chase.

I shrugged noncommittally. "My schedule is packed. Let's do this some other time."

"Oh." Her shoulders fell, but she maintained her false cheery disposition. "Okay."

"Later, Ruby." I turned around before she could make a further embarrassment of herself and strode to the dining hall.

Disinfectant and the acrid, sweaty tang of ambition accompanied me as I crossed a crowd of harried residents. Clinical rotations were happening, which meant they'd be working directly with patients, diagnosing and treating conditions, and gaining hands-on experience. Back when I'd begun, this was my favorite part of residency.

My footsteps, in contrast to their rushed ones, were sure, slow, and loud. I stopped at the entrance of the dining hall, a lopsided grin on my face.

"Morning, Leon," John Galbraith greeted me, his green eyes crinkling with warmth as he flashed his signature grin. He was my closest friend at the institute.

"John, how's your morning thus far?"

"The usual," he replied, adjusting his glasses and avoiding answering me directly. "Speaking of which, have you met the new medical resident yet?"

"New resident?" I raised an eyebrow, my interest piqued.

"Ah, there she is," John said with a grimace, nodding toward the end of the hall.

I turned my head and saw her for the first time. Draped in a pristine white lab coat, she moved with an air of quiet confidence.

Her raven hair cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall of ink, framing a face that could only be described as unconventionally sexy and a little sad.

But what captured me most were her eyes— a piercing shade of blue cold enough to reverse global warming.

"Wow," I breathed, momentarily transfixed. "What's her name?"

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