Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
It’s a tried-and-true rule we’ve all learned the hard way. Nothing good comes from drunk texting.
“So I messed up. It happens!”
I was being honest with Grant last night about watching his game. At the bar, I stared at that TV screen like the final score hinged solely on my viewership. Sophia was right there with me. Meanwhile, Daphne chatted up a guy who’d been gutsy enough to approach her, and even though nothing took (“It just didn’t click with him”), at least she was putting herself out there, which is much more than I can say. I was crushing on the guy on screen in the Pinstripes jersey, the forbidden athlete I should be forgetting about.
To be frank, between you and me, I don’t even feel guilty about staring at him during his game. I’m no different than all the other women in America drooling over him. There are thousands upon thousands of TikTok videos of Grant that range from the innocuous (slow-motion footage of him walking into the stadium accompanied by killer music) to cheeky (him stretching before the games in a way that shows off his butt) to the downright dirty (grown women poring over footage, analyzing every angle, trying to determine what kind of *ahem* heat he’s packing in his baseball pants). The comments on these videos are feral. Fan girls galore. It makes me wonder if Grant ever reads through them. He must know he’s in the heart of every female baseball fan across America.
Still, admiring the view is very different than sending that flirty message and actively trying to sabotage my plan.
That was dumb. I’ve made up my mind: there is no Grant and Tate. The very idea of the two of us is bad news. I’m pursuing love elsewhere. With Michael.
Just as soon as I accept that date.
I’ve been dragging my feet, but today, I’m going to take the plunge.
I’ll leave early for my 3 PM shift and hunt him down first thing. He’s been patient with me, but how long is he willing to wait for me to figure my life out? He’s going to think I’m uninterested, and that’s not the case…not really. I’m just sort of apathetic. However, I think with a little nudge in the right direction, we could get somewhere. Beyond the fact that he meets my minimum boyfriend requirements, there’s a basic attraction. I think he’s cute, and I enjoy his company. Relationships have been built on far less than that. How will I know if we have a real connection if I don’t at least try?
Daphne and Sophia agree that I should give Michael a fighting chance. After I go for a run (to force myself out of this hangover fog) and shower, they make me apply a little makeup, something I don’t usually bother with for work considering three-week-old babies don’t tend to notice whether I’ve applied bronzer or not.
“Now, are those the sexiest scrubs you own?” Daphne asks as I’m on my way out.
I pause and look down. I’m wearing Figs, a stylish scrub brand. They’re cute and fitted versus the oversized hospital-issued kind some of the doctors and nurses wear.
“Yes?” The word lilts because I have no clue where she’s going with this.
My answer disappoints her. “You don’t have anything that’s a little more low-cut?”
I level her with a glare like, You can’t be serious.
She tosses her hands up. “What? I just think maybe you should sex it up a bit more. Wear your hair down.”
“No.”
“Okay, maybe roll your scrub top up so it’s like a crop top?” She’s smiling now. I know she’s teasing, but even still, she continues. “You know what? I actually have a nurse costume from a few Halloweens ago! I bet that would be fine to wear for your shift.”
I ignore this and step through the doorway.
“Don’t say I didn’t try to help!” she calls out after me, affecting a 1950s housewife drawl as she continues, “You’ll never attract a beau with that snarky attitude!”
At the hospital, Michael is leaving a patient’s room when I find him.
“Michael!” I call out, hustling a bit to catch up in case he’s in a rush to get to his next patient. His workload is slightly different than mine. He only has to stay for as long as it takes him to get through the patients on his schedule for the day, so I’d hate to stall him for too long. If he’s anything like me, efficiency matters.
His face lights up when he turns and sees me. “Hey, Tate. You just starting your shift? Should be a relatively light one with Dr. Liota and Dr. Zhao both out at that conference.”
I huff out a breath. “Let’s hope so. How was your day?”
“Not bad.” He checks his watch. “I should be out of here before 6, easy.”