Sasha

“I think I’ll just leave my nose crooked.”

Twyla looks at me like I’ve lost my ever-loving mind. “What is it with you and this doctor? Now think about this, woman. You’re thinking about leaving that nose of yours looking like a big black avocado with one side caved in because you’re afraid to talk to some man? What kind of shit is that?”

I push out my lip and lean closer to the bathroom mirror frowning at my nose. “You think it looks like an avocado?”

“Yeah, don’t you?”

I turn my head to the left and then the right. “Yeah, I guess it’s pretty bruised and fat.”

“Bruised and fat forever if you don’t take your head out of your ass, girl.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll go. Seeing him again is better than listening to you tell me how ugly I am for the rest of my life.”

She shrugs pursing her lips together silently agreeing to do just that if I don’t get my nose fixed.

“He’s so arrogant, I can’t stand him. Like yeah, we know you’re a fancy surgeon, and you have a lot of money, and you’re smart and hot, but you don’t need to jam it down your patients’ throats.”

“He’s hot? You never mentioned that before, how hot?” She lowers her feet to the ground from the top of my toilet where she’s perched.

“I don’t know, hot.” I try to act uninterested, but the truth is he’s undeniably good looking, and I can’t stop obsessing and fantasizing about him. He may be a jerk, but he’s a jerk with thick, dark hair, perfect lips, and a rock-hard body. He’ll never know about all the dirty things we’ve done together in my head.

“On a scale of one to smoking-hot ten, where does he fall?”

I sigh and go back into my bedroom. I don’t want to tell her he’s a twelve, but knowing Twyla, she’ll drag it out of me. She follows and crawls into bed next to me with excited eyes.

“Don’t you have your own bed across the hall to sleep in?”

“Oh yeah, girl, but it’s way more exciting in here. He’s a ten, isn’t he?” She flops down on her back and stares at the ceiling with stars in her eyes. “How’d you get so lucky?”

“I don’t exactly consider flying through the window of my Jeep lucky.”

“Not even if you end up with a sexy, fine plastic surgeon? Think about it, Sash. He’s rich and single and gorgeous, and he can give you a little nip/tuck whenever you’re feeling saggy. My God, you’ve hit the jackpot, woman!” She pulls the white sheet up tight under her chin smiling like a lunatic.

“He’s a dick. I don’t care how much money he has or how many boob jobs or tummy tucks he can give me, I don’t like him.”

“You will. Mark my words. You’re going to fall in love so hard he’s going to admit you for a love concussion.”

“A love concussion?” I frown and turn onto my side to take hold of her chin and move her face, so she’s looking at me. I look into her eyes—one and then the other. “Are you stoned or something? How many romance novels have you read this week? I swear to God, I’m going to burn your library card if you don’t get your head out of the clouds.”

“You’ll see, just wait.” She looks so smug and self-assured; I let myself dream her dream for a second before wiping it clean out of my mind.

“Whatever. Are you sleeping in here with me tonight or what? We have to be up at 5:00 a.m. tomorrow to make it to the clinic by 5:45 a.m.”

“Oh no, I can’t sleep if you’re over there moaning and groaning about your doctor. I’ll leave you with your fantasies.” She hops out of bed and skips toward my door. I throw a pillow at her back, and she screeches and laughs when it hits her.

“I do not fantasize about him!” I yell.

“Okay, sure, whatever!” she yells back before closing her door. I turn out my light with a huff and a wince. I keep forgetting how sensitive my face is, and every time I do, I pay with pain.

I get up and go back to the bathroom and take two pain pills. After checking that my alarm is set for the crack of dawn, I lie down and think about the stack of bills on my dresser. When thoughts of Dr. Sullivan start to creep back in, I switch my train of thought to the fact that I have no vacation time or paid time off at Macy’s to cover me while I’m off. But even that stressful thought can’t keep him out of my head. The only thing that saves me is the pain medication when it kicks in, and I slip into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Sometimes sleep is the best medicine.