𝐃𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒! | harry styles

𝐈𝐈𝐈

I try really, really hard not to think about Harry Styles at work the following day. Or I should say Dr. Styles, as that's what I've resolved to call him while I'm working. We may technically be dating now…okay, not technically...but I still need to keep things professional.

I actually don't even see him. He never said he was working today, so this shouldn't be a surprise. And I can survive one day without my eye candy. Because that's all he is. Eye candy.

Dr. Hale is covering today. She's nice to everyone, but a bitch to Cameron. I think it's pretty funny. Once she leaves, I even go on to Shelly about how nice she is, even though I know Cameron is sitting just a few feet away and is irked by every word. But he deserves it.

His little joke, while it helped me amend things with Harry, still wasn't cool.

He showed up for work this morning looking all excited and eager. And if there's one thing I've learned in the week I've known him, it's that he's never excited and eager about coming to work.

He wastes no time, spurred on by my remarks about Dr. Hale. "So how was the date the other day, Pockets? Was it love at first sight or what?"

He grins cheekily. He's such a sneaky little fucker. I should have known I couldn't trust him.

I huff as I glare at him. He stands up as if he's actually about to go do some work, or else move closer to annoy me more effectively, and I say, "You know, I can't decide on whether to punch you in the nuts or go straight for the jugular."

Not surprisingly, his hands immediately drop to cover what's most important to him. "What are you talking about?" he asks defensively.

"You think you're so funny," I say calmly. It's not a question; at the very least, he has no problem entertaining himself.

"You don't?" he asks innocently.

"No. And you're dead to me right now, by the way." I stand and try to move past him, but his big oaf of a body blocks my way.

"What's wrong, Pockets? I heard you guys had a good time."

Great. Cameron and the hot doctor are talking about me again, and I still have no idea what they're saying. This isn't boding well for my paranoia.

"You guys aren't allowed to talk about me," I say sternly.

He scoffs and looks offended. "Well damn, you're welcome," he says sarcastically.

"Why the hell would I thank you? You went out of your way to set me up with my archenemy of all people."

"Your archenemy, Pockets? Really? Did I get sucked into a comic book and wasn't aware of it? Is this your secret lair?" He makes an obnoxious point of looking around the nurses station.

I roll my eyes. "You knew we didn't like each other," I accuse.

"But you like each other now."

"So?"

"So you're welcome."

"You're infuriating."

"I don't see what the big deal is," he goes on. "Besides, it was Zoey's idea, anyway."

Hold the fuck up.

"Zoey knew about this?" I hiss. My voice is deadly. She is so lucky she's off today.

"Of course she did. That girl just cons me into doing all the dirty work. Plus, I thought it would be funny. And I was right, you know."

"It wasn't funny. One of us could have died. We were murderously angry." Maybe I'm exaggerating just a little bit, but he doesn't have to know this.