offsetting minors | s. crosby

We're going out

My day only got worse after the guys left the hospital. They stuck around for a couple hours watching the game and playing cards with Justin, but had to leave eventually to go to their afternoon practice. The game tomorrow was against a team called the Flyers, and apparently it was a pretty important one. Once they were gone, I stayed to talk with Justin for a bit before I had to finish my rounds on the Peds floor. 

Now, I was heading home after the longest shift of my life. Even though I'd had to change my scrubs three times today after three different kids decided to puke or bleed in my direction, I felt gross and couldn't wait to get in the shower and head straight to bed. 

But Kayla, my roommate, had a different idea. I hadn't even made it fully through the front door when her voice rang from the living room floor, where she was busy in some convoluted yoga pose.

"Put on something cute and get ready, we're going out."

I stare at her blankly from my spot just inside the doorway to our tiny apartment. "I just got off a 15 hour shift from hell, Kay. The only place I'm going is to bed. I feel like shit."

She gets out of her downward dog and marches over to me, hands placed dramatically on her hips. "Okay Elliot Greyson, you listen up. You're young and hot and God knows how long it's been since you've been on an actual date so we are going to get dressed up and go out and find cute boys to buy us drinks."

"I have a fever and the worst headache ever, Kay. I don't know who you're looking at but she's definitely not feeling young and hot right now. Also, she's probably still covered in puke from the screaming kids she's been around all day." 

Kayla wrinkles her nose in disgust and goes into the kitchen to pull the bottle of Tylenol out of our makeshift medicine cabinet. "Nothing these won't fix. Go shower and put on that cute black dress you got at Nordstrom last week."

I flop down onto our couch when I realize that she isn't about to give in and groan as she shoves two pills and a glass of water into my hand.

"And don't you pretend to fall asleep, missy!" She punctuates her words with a hard smack to the back of my already throbbing head. 

Kayla and I were roommates and best friends while we were in college at Northwestern. After we graduated, she came here to Pittsburgh to go to grad school for physics while I headed to New York a year early for medical school. Because I know her so well by know, I realize that the best course of action here is to go out with her for a little while because it's not like she's going to let me back out of her plans to have a wild night. I figure that I can just sit quietly at the bar to make sure she doesn't end up going home with some creepy guy. Kayla is currently a candidate for a PhD in physics doing some awesome research in quantum theory at Pitt and she's one of the smartest people I know, but she's not exactly known in our friend group for making the best decisions with a few drinks in her. 

Reluctantly, I drag myself into my room so I can shower, ignoring the smug look plastered on her face at my defeat. I make a hasty job of rinsing off and when I get out, I stand wrapped in my towel, staring at the black dress Kayla has taken the liberty to lay out on my bed. 

It's a nice dress- low-cut, form-fitting, very short, and definitely not something that I would have ever picked out for myself. But last weekend when I'd gone to the mall with Kayla, her stubborn side came out in the dressing room and she refused to leave unless I brought the dress with me. And so here I was, wondering how the hell I'd been able to squeeze myself into it in the first place.

"Kayla, I hate you." I mumble as I step out of my room wearing the offending piece of clothing. I'd run a brush through my hair and thrown on lipstick and mascara and determined that this was probably as good as it would get. The bags under my eyes and the lines of fatigue on my face weren't going anywhere, no matter how much makeup I put on.