The Sidewalk Incident

21. The Birthday Addendum

Suggested Song:
Stars Align- Majid Jordan ft Drake

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In an attempt to distract myself from our conversation, my Freudian slip and the fact that I've somehow agreed to going out on a real date with James Li, I find myself binge watching Below Deck for several hours while binge eating whatever junk food I can find in James's house.

By the time he returns home, I'm passed out on the couch and can only vaguely recall him carrying me to bed. Did he leave a peck on my forehead? I have no idea. All I know is that I overslept, snoozing my alarm one time too many times and I have an impatient James knocking/ banging on my door.

"I'm almost done!" I respond groggily.

"Lies!" I can hear somewhat of a smile. "We're going to be late, Charlotte."

I hastily brush my teeth while under the shower, forgo body lotion and throw on a (thankfully) matching pair of maroon scrubs.

"Charl—" James bellows as I open the door.

"Done. Let's go." I smile and feel a weird jolt to my stomach when I see him in... maroon scrubs.

"Bitch stole my look," we both say and laugh as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. And I'm suddenly awkward when our gazes meet. I wonder if he's expecting more than just that for a greeting. Maybe I should have at least lead with a good morning. Is he expecting more? Not a good morning peck on the cheek, surely. I mean, technically I only agreed to go on a date with him, so I don't have to act like I've already gone on the date with him. Irrespective of my inner dialogue and debate, something is off with James. Quite frankly he looks pissed. At me? What could I possibly have done this time?

"Are you ok?" I ask, eyeing him suspiciously as he angry drives us to work, still within the speed limits of course because he drives like a grandma.

"I'm fine." He snaps.

"Did something happen at work last night?"

"Nope."

"What time did you get home anyway?"

"Around ten. You didn't eat. Nor order in like I suggested."

"No, I just snacked. Excessively." Then I realize that perhaps the roommate thing to do would have been to have at least ordered something for him. Maybe he hasn't eaten for a while. "Are you hangry?"

"No. I made myself something to eat." He still avoids eye contact.

"Ok... so why are you a wet mop this morning?" I ask and he shoots a deadly side eye my way.

"Were you expecting—"

"I've learnt my lesson time and time again to not expect anything from you, Charlotte." He sneers, and I know that's the end of it.

Nonetheless, we walk into work side by side, the matching uniform doing the trick of solidarity despite the eye-daggers we keep throwing at each other. I'm in the dark. I have no idea what I've done this time. And fuck him, everything is not always my fault.

But it is, this time. I'm balls deep in trouble, this time. Because as we round the corner towards our offices, I realize I've made the mother of all fuck ups.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DR LI!!"

Fuck. Fuck. And for fucks sake, fuck.

Both our surgical teams, residents and interns as well as the regular nurses and anesthetists who regular scrub in with James line the pathway to his office, along with balloons, a big happy fucking birthday banner and low and behold, a red velvet cake with a boba tea to go!