Page 12 of The Night Shift
I take a deep breath in through my nose.You are the bigger person, Holly. Rising above. You’re rising above.
“But in all honesty, if things have gotten that bad for you, I understand. Just this once, all right? And only because you’re asking so nicely. We can’t make a habit out of it.”
Annoyance burns through my chest. If he doesn’t stop talking, I’m going to make a habit out of stabbing his face.
“On-call room down the hall is free if you want to go ahead and get started, Hollister. I’ll be there in a minute to give you a helping hand —”
I take a step toward him and jab my finger into his chest. “Stopcalling me that.”
Fuckbeing the bigger person.
My blood fizzes. A surge of electricity courses through me, tingling from the tip of my finger where it touches him, all the way down to my toes.
“There she is,” Theo replies in an irritatingly calm manner as he steps back, causing my hand to drop. He shoves both his hands down the pockets of his pathetic coffee-stained lab coat. “There’s no need to pretend to be this holier-than-thou person in front of me. I’m already familiar with the devil that hides underneath.”
“Fuck. You.”
He snorts derisively. “There’s also no need to beg for it, love. I already know that’s what you want. I’m quite hard to resist.”
“I would rather pluck out my own eyeballs with a rusted spoon than beg you to fuck me.”
“Lying isn’t a good look on you.”
“Neither is wanting to waste my time faking an orgasm.”
Theo arches an eyebrow in amusement, obviously taking my insult as some sort of challenge. Neither one of us backs away. We never do. I should’ve known there’s no use being a bigger person when it comes to Theo. He always manages to bring out the worst in me.
I don’t like who I turn into around him.
I wouldn’t go as far as saying I hate the guy, only because he is not that important to me. Dislike with a burning passion? Sure. Do I wish the Purge was real so that I could publiclydissect that jawline for everyone to watch and enjoy? Yes. But that doesn’t mean I hate him. That’s just me being me. Hate is a feeling. A very strong feeling. And I feel nothing for Theo Carter. The man is as irrelevant to me as a white crayon.
He has this special talent ofalwaysmanaging to get under my skin. I have no idea why he does it. If my hobby is slightly murdering men who piss me off, then Theo’s is to annoy the living crap out of me, until the vein in my forehead pops. He’s like a psychotic version of Tinkerbell. Instead of needing constant attention to survive, he needs my constant and unadulterated irritation.
Shooting the fucker one last glare (and probably adding another ten years to his miserable life in the process), I shove past his shoulder and walk away. I pick up my pace, determined to put a few yards of distance between us, and to my relief, this time he doesn’t come after me.
It feels nice. Comforting. It’s the first thing that’s gone my way tonight.
My steps quicken and I keep my head down as I walk through the dimly lit hallway that seems to stretch on forever. I pass by the ER and breathe in the familiar scents of the hospital on my way out: antiseptic and gauze, some astringent, along with a whiff of antibacterial detergent. There are a couple of patients with little to mild trauma — drunk driving, bar brawls, alcohol intoxication. All very typical for an ER post eleven p.m. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Tucking my hands deeper in my pockets, I walk through the sliding glass doors and step outside, immediately wincing as the chilly October air hits my face. My phone buzzes. I pull it out from my coat pocket and see three text messages.
One is a bit old.
UNKNOWN: Roses are red, violets are blue, aren’t you glad I found you…
And two are from right now.
UNKNOWN: How DOES it feel? Killing someone?
Attached below is a picture of Cami bartending.
Followed by another text.
UNKNOWN: Want me to show you?
Chapter 2
Theo
