Brain Games

7. Games

July 1st.

Show time.

The day hospitals across the US allow new physicians to officially enter residency training.

The two weeks of orientation have led up to this moment where I'm officially a doctor, able to begin my residency training at one of the best hospitals in the world.

Anxious and unable to sleep, I wake up before my alarm, and I'm up and ready and out the door before 5:00 a.m.

Of course, one of the few nights it's actually quiet in my apartment, I'm unable to sleep.

Over the past two weeks, last night was one of the nights my neighbors decided not to get it on like rabbits. I swear, with how many rounds they can go those two alone could keep a condom brand in business. If they're even using them.

I walk the nine blocks to Warner and enter the almost empty lobby. Excitement blooms in my chest as I cross the marbled floor and walk into the elevator, riding it up to the third floor. Before I head to the neurosurgery department, I swing by the small room with the scrubs dispensing machine, loving the little beep the lock on the door and the machine itself makes when I swipe my badge. A fresh pair of scrubs in hand, I walk to the neurosurgery department.

My heart does another happy, excited flip in my chest when I scan my badge and the lock to the neurosurgery door opens. I walk in with my head held high and even manage to smile at the secretary scowling back at me as I pass her desk, her eyes watching me like a hawk until I disappear behind the lounge doors and slip into the locker room that's attached.

Finding my locker, I set my purse inside and begin swapping my regular clothes for scrubs. As soon as I'm done changing into my scrub bottoms and yanking my top over my head, the locker room door swings open. I don't think much of it, carrying on and pulling on my scrub top. When I detect no movement, I glance over my shoulder to see Brad standing at the door, two cups of coffee in hand.

He clears his throat, striding over to me, already in his scrubs and white coat. "Here," he says, handing me a coffee.

I hesitantly take the cup, eyeing it suspiciously. "Did you poison it?" I ask, taking a seat on the bench to put my shoes on, setting the cup off to the side.

He huffs with a slight roll of his eyes. "No, it's called being nice," he emphasizes, sitting and straddling the other end of the bench.

"Oh and you know all about playing nice," I say sarcastically under my breath while tying my left shoelace.

"I do. When I want to," he says, a playful, suggestive tone to his voice.

I glance at him to see his brown eyes sparkling, his full lips twitched up into a smirk. I roll my eyes, moving on to my right shoe.

I hear him shuffle closer to me on the bench and I spare him a glance, finding his expression more serious. Both of his large hands are wrapped around his coffee cup as he plants his elbows on his thighs, leaning in. "Listen, Delilah, I know we've had this... rivalry for a while, but we're both in residency now. We're going to be stuck together—working together—for at least a couple of years, so I was thinking we could call a truce," he asks, his eyes surprisingly sincere.

I eye him skeptically, wondering what kind of game he's playing. There's no way he's willing to throw in the towel and suddenly become civil. Just because we're both in residency at one of the best hospitals doesn't mean we're set. This is still a highly competitive residency, and I'm not just going to become comfortable. I still have a lot to prove, and I'll be damned if I let Brad in my head, letting me think there's nothing to worry about, just so he can plow me over when I least expect it.