I pulled open the familiar doors of Barnes and Noble. Rather reluctantly I have to say. I love B & N, but after working 24+ hour shift and four hours of sleep, it just didn't seem as appealing. But I came anyway. Why? 'Cause I'm a sucker for big eyes and crooked smiles.
"Luckily, Mr. Wentz, the damage was mostly superficial and none of the tendons had much damage." I stated as I began stitching up his palm.
He sighed pushing back his stray tresses with his free hand, mumbling indistinct words. I looked up him in his eyes, before grabbing the clean solution and cotton balls. They were a nice hazel color, but nothing especial exciting.
"So, what do you do for a living?" I asked as I dabbed the wound timidly.
"I'm a musician."
"Wow, you must be awfully busy, Mr. Wentz."
"Yeah, most of the time, and please call me Pete."
"Well then Pete, I'm going to send in another doctor to apply a cast. Hopefully, this will prevent the stitches from reopening." I examined the room making sure everything was in its place.
"Dr. Loy?"
"Yes?"
"Err.. what's your name? Your first one."
"Riane. Have a nice morning, Pete." I smiled at him before exiting the room.
There's nothing to do here,
Some just whine and complain
In bed in the hospital
"Jackson!" I called out to the golden waves ahead of me. I was met with brown eyes and a perky smile. Well, as perky as a person could muster at four in the morning. "Can you cast my patient in 356 for me?"
"Sure, but you owe me." I smiled my thanks before scurrying out of the hospital, before anyone could possibility bombarded me anymore.
A short car ride later, I arrived at my apartment. It was a complete shit hole, but a resident's salary, it was all I really could afford. Besides, after long work days, the shit hole always seemed more like my personal Eden. I pulled off my shoes letting them crash roughly on the freshly cleaned carpet. Probably not the best thing to do, but at my current state I could care fucking less. I felt heavy and tired, but managed to strip off my scrubs and pull on an over sized t-shirt before crashing on my bed.
The sleep was wonderful, really good, until it was abruptly disrupted by Semi-Charmed Life. I blindly pounded my hand around until I came upon the cell. The number was unknown. This would usually result in me agitatedly throwing the phone across the room, but I felt like telling whoever was on the other line off.
"Hello?" I asked, my voice harsh and slightly raspy.
"Always this cheerful?" A male voice rang in my ears. It wasn't exactly familiar, but I felt like I might have heard it before.
"Yes. What do you want?"
"Is that how you treat patients?"
"Pete?" I asked my voice no longer harsh.
"Yup."
"How did you get my number?"
"The blond doctor gave it to me."
"Oh." I said, making a mental note to kill Jalla later. "So? What's up?" That's original. I obviously have a way with words.
"Nothing, unless you accept my invitation to Barnes and Noble."
"Um,sure."
"Great meet you there in a hour."
"Okay, bye."
"Bye."
I sighed, before reluctantly dragging myself towards the shower.
Tell me the story,
of how you ended up here,
I've heard it all in the hospital
I follow the sweet aroma of the brewing coffee toward the Starbucks. I'm sort of the anti-Starbucks type, but at this point anything that can keep me alive is welcomed with open arms.
Once I had a nice warm vanilla creme laced between my fingers, I headed to the magazines. I admit, I have a magazine addiction. Not only magazines, but teeny bopper magazines. Yeah, I'm twenty-six and still reading Seventeen, but you have to admit, Seventeen is the shit.
I trod up towards the rack and let my eyes wander from cover to cover. Nothing was interesting me really. I grabbed the closes magazine which was a Tiger Beat. I shrugged and went in search for a seat to settle in. I flipped casually through the magazine.
Wait rewind.
We've got no chance of recovery, Joy and hospital, Joy and misery, Joy and misery
I flipped back a few pages to a full page poster of Pete.
I think I figured out where I've seen him before.
This took awhile, so I
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