Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“Fuck,” I bit out. The room seemed to melt away, leaving Sutton the only thing in focus.
Her body was limp under my hands and I guided her forward, onto my chest as I continued to rock in and out of her in small movements to make the aftershocks last as long as possible.
“Don’t go,” she whispered. “Not yet.”
“No chance,” I replied.
Six
Sutton
As I arrived at reception in the hospital, I took a deep breath, put my hands on my hips and pushed out my chest like I was Superman. The posture was apparently proven to boost confidence.
What I’d needed yesterday was a magic rowing boat. What I’d had was a soft bed, an iPad, and a pile of TED talks. It wasn’t quite as good, but I’d spent the day nursing a hangover and discovering small, oval bruises the size of Beau’s fingertips all over my body while learning, courtesy of TED, that body language could alter your feelings. Beau had left at dawn, cursing the appointment he had first thing and, like a gentleman, had texted me a couple of hours later, wanting to come over later that night.
I hadn’t answered. Ignoring his message hurt more than it should. I’d gone into last night knowing that he was leaving. And of course, I was starting a new job and the last thing I wanted to was split my focus. Still, a part of me wished our situations were different. Saturday night we’d been so in synch and the sex had been so . . . different to anything I’d experienced before, that if the circumstances weren’t what they were, I might have actually texted him back. But I had to play the hand I’d been dealt, not the one I wished for. Keeping a clear head for today was more important than more time with Beau.
I was going to be starting my foundation program alongside others who were five years younger than me and been to some of the best schools in the country. I doubt any of them had been hairdressers before they’d turned to medicine. Maybe some of them had worked on the side and accumulated debt to get to this point, but most would have been funded by the bank of mum and dad. That’s how things were in medicine.
I was an outlier.
Somehow, I’d made it and we were all on the same program. Now I just wanted to make sure I didn’t stand out like the sore thumb I was. I needed to keep my head down and fly under the radar, focus on the job. I took a breath. I wasn’t sure if the superhero pose was helping or just making me feel more self-conscious.
“I saw that TED talk as well,” the blonde girl beside me said.
I tried my best not to wince. “Did it work for you?”
She shrugged. “Not that I noticed. Vodka is more reliable.”
“Before work?”
She laughed. “No. That’s the only downside—the dulling the senses part. Not ideal for the first day on the job. You part of the foundation program, too?”
I nodded, glancing at her smart shift dress and sensible heels. I’d worn jeans and trainers because the joining letter said we’d all be issued scrubs when we arrived. Maybe I’d got it wrong. “How many of us are starting today?” I asked. “Do you know?”
“I heard fifteen.”
“I heard twenty-five,” a woman behind us with curly red-hair whispered. We shuffled sideways to make space for her.
“Twenty-five is a lot,” I said.
“It’s a big hospital. What rotation are you hoping for?” she asked, glancing between me and the woman beside me.
I shrugged. I’d not even thought about it. “I’ll be happy with anything.”
“I want surgery,” the second woman replied.
The woman behind the desk pointed us in the direction of a waiting room, and the three of us shuffled inside. The room had a small window and dark grey, plastic chairs set out around three small tables. We took a seat at the table nearest the window.
“I don’t want surgery until I have more experience,” the TED-talk woman said, picking up our conversation from earlier. “I hope it’s one of my last rotations. I think I want to specialize there, so I want to be in a position where I’m as strong as I possibly can be.”
“You’ll need it for a surgical specialty,” the other woman said.
I hadn’t even begun to think about specialties. I was taking it one step at a time. “I’m Sutton,” I said. “And you are?”
“I’m Gilly,” TED Talk said.
“Veronica,” the other woman said.
“You’ve heard about the competition?” Gilly half whispered.
“Obviously,” Veronica said. “But I also heard it’s not just based on technical knowledge and application this year.”
“What else could it be based on?” Gilly asked.
I’d clearly missed something in the joining instructions. What were they talking about?
“What competition?” I asked.