Page 34 of Sampled

“Okay. Dishes.”

They smiled at each other, beginning the next step in wherever this was going.

* * *

Vandy: The boyfriend found me. I’m good.

Raj: Cool. On call. No mass casualty incidents tonight.

Vandy: Good news.

Raj: for me. Michael kicked @$$ last night though. Team rockstar!

He texted her the same picture of the team he’d sent her before.

She took a hard look at it and noted that the African American guy in the photo looked a little like not-school-teacher-Angela’s date to karaoke. That wasn’t possible, though, because he was an accountant.

Besides, what were the odds that they’d both lied to each other about their jobs? That was just ridiculous.

Then again, who was she to judge any possibilities—however unlikely—of secret illicit sex. In fact, best to delete all evidence of texts about her boyfriend off her phone. Raj would have deleted his, lest their parents ever ‘mistakenly’ check their phones on a visit.

“Nurse Vandy. My back needs washing.” Royce called from the bathroom.

Time to enjoy her own forbidden sex.

EPILOGUE

Weeks later…

Coffee before clinic was a great team building exercise for third-year medical students.

Nora, however, was quite busy stacking review articles in Michael Harper’s arms. “Just some light reading.”

Michael smiled and fake staggered under the weight of the paperwork. Raj hid his laughter while Michael said, “Light reading, huh?”

The few doctors in scrubs ahead of them made him guess it had been a busy night somewhere since this was when the overnight shifts from the ICU signed out.

He miscalculated the movement of the line and accidentally collided with one of the two female physicians in front of him.

The doctor bounced off him, spilling coffee everywhere.

“I am so sorry, ma’am,” Michael apologized for the deluge of coffee and medical articles all over the fallen doctor.

Then he looked down at his victim.

Impossible.

Angela.

In green scrubs and a long white coat.

She stared at him. He stared at her. He tried to comprehend the words emblazoned on her stained white coat. ‘Dr. Angela Perkins, Interventional Cardiology.’

That was not a kindergarten teacher. That was a highly trained medical professional.

Neither of them moved, stunned into frozen silence. Nora took action. “We’re sorry, Doctor. Old man Harper here. Raj, napkins.” He scrambled to follow her order.

“I’m fine,” Dr. Angela Perkins sounded dazed. Michael tried to give her a hand up, and she recoiled with the same disdain one would give a tarantula.

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