5 Ways to Ruin Casey Brandt

t e n

♡ CASEY ♡

Briar Elliot is ridiculously stubborn. I take back my comment about her being nothing like the three doctors I know. She's definitely got the dismissive and harsh demeanor down.

Despite the many insults she's been throwing my way, I can't blame her. If anything, I understand. From her perspective I probably seem like a spoiled rich kid. Someone with enough money to do whatever I want. A slacker who can't be bothered to follow in my family's footsteps.

She should meet my father. I think they'd really get along. They'd probably spend hours just trading insults about me back and forth.

I think back to that comment she made on the first day of class. How she wants to be a doctor but can't find an internship. It dawns on me that I could get one if I needed it. If I wanted it. One call to my Dad and her problem would be solved.

After she stormed away, I was stumped. I knew I was bothering her. I didn't see how my constant presence could accomplish what I wanted: to make it up to her. I took the day to cool off—fighting off the urge to show up at her door. Today, though, I'm waiting for her outside of Bluefields with an iced latte in hand.

"Are you deaf?" She asks as she breezes past me and through the glass doors. "Do you suffer from amnesia?"

"I heard everything you said. I get it." I rush to follow her. She doesn't take the cup. Her eyes scrutinize the plastic as it begins to sweat in my hand. "Hear me out?"

She huffs. "If I do, will you leave me alone?"

I nod enthusiastically. Anything to get her to just listen. Preferably without spitting her particularly harsh—but deserved—insults at me.

"Will you find a new partner for class? Never speak to me again? Stop trying to buy me things?"

I nod again, which seems to satisfy her. She swipes the coffee from my hand and turns to sit at an oversized blue booth. I follow suit, sliding in opposite her. She waits patiently, busying herself with unwrapping a straw and stabbing it through the top of the cup.

"I can get you an internship."

She narrows her eyes. "Go on."

I fold my hands over each other, then shove them beneath the table. I realize, with some surprise, that I'm nervous. It doesn't happen very often. I don't like to take things seriously enough to stress over. I'm very particular about what problems I deem to matter to me. But Briar puts me on edge.

She matters. A lot.

"An internship with my father. He's chief of surgery at Saint Jane's."

"Of course he is," she grumbles bitterly. She still eyes me suspiciously. "What's the catch?"

"I need your help, too," I confess. "I don't want this career I've built. It's not why I started making videos."

"No? You don't want to spend your life making other people's harder?"

I shake my head. Just then two guys stop by our booth. I see Briar stiffen in anticipation, but, they only address me.

"Hey! Casey Brandt in the flesh," The taller one says.

The other adds, "Loved your podcast this summer, man. Can't wait to see what you do this year."

I try to catch Briar's eye, to offer an awkward smile, but she's focusing on her coffee. I turn back to the guys.

"Thanks," I say. "I appreciate it."

They each clap my shoulder and then leave the crowded coffee house. I hadn't realized how full this place has gotten. It's inching closer to the early class times so fellow students are rushing in to grab their morning fix. Some look as if they literally just rolled out of bed. Mussed hair and clad in sweatpants. Others look ready to take on the day. Faces made up, primed clothes.