Miss Matched [COMPLETED]

33. Simon

Tayla's moving to Scotland, literally putting an ocean between us, and I've been having a shitty week at work too. Even things I'd normally find funny or amusing are depressing.

For instance, I'm up for experimenting in the bedroom, but I draw the line at sticking various foreign objects up my ass or the ass of my partner. You'd be surprised how many people don't share my philosophy. Last week it was a beer can. Granted, that guy said he did it on a drunken dare. Tonight's patient has a rubber fist jammed so far up, I think he's tasting rubber.

"The doctor will be in soon." I draw the curtain around the guy who's lying face down on the table. He came in alone, and when I asked how the fist got so far up there, he was vague on the details. The plastic-shit taste in his mouth is probably throwing him off. A few weeks ago, a night like tonight would have amused me.

"You get all the best patients," my shift supervisor says when I wash my hands for an extra long time at the sink. "You're done in five, aren't you?"

"I'm going to miss out on watching the guy have a fist extracted from his ass. Shame, really." I smirk. Instead, I'm meeting Tayla and a gaggle of soulmates at a pub not far from here. She must have figured out how to unblock my number because she texted me to confirm the date and time for the stupidly awkward meeting.

She chuckles. "Before you're done, there's a woman in curtain two who asked for you to do her intake." She waggles her eyebrows. "You've seemed a little down lately, so I thought I'd let you cross paths with an attractive woman before the end of your shift. Makes up for all the ass work you've been doing lately."

My heart kicks. "Dark hair? Slight build?"

"You've got a type, do you?" She scans the chart in her hands. "This one is short, curvy, brown hair. Pretty."

I let my breath out in a large whoosh. Of course Tayla isn't here. If she was, she'd be hurt or sick. One thing to visit me in the waiting room, another to actually come to the ER. I take the blank chart and head to the second curtained area. There, on the bed, looking as well as can be, is Jada. I haven't seen her in almost two weeks since she crashed my explanation date with Tayla.

I squeeze the clipboard and don't sit down in the seat next to the bed like I normally would. "Jada. Are you hurt or injured?"

She beams, and then she must read my unconcealed annoyance because her smile falters. "You haven't been answering my texts or phone calls."

That's because they've been non-stop since she saw me a few weeks ago. I answered the first couple, but when it became apparent she would use my offer to recover her money as a way to weasel into my life, I stopped responding.

"This is my workplace. Are you injured or ill?"

She squirms on the table. "I just—I thought maybe we could talk."

"Yeah, no. Definitely not while I'm supposed to be working." I check my watch. "My shift finished two minutes ago. I'll get someone else to assist you, assuming you've got a legitimate problem."

"Oh, I can walk you out if your shift is done." She hops off the bed.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and try to suppress my frustrated sigh. In an hour, I'm supposed to be meeting Tayla at a pub, and I need to shower. "Jada, I'm meeting Tayla, and she wouldn't be comfortable with us talking." I duck down to catch her gaze. "I think you should talk to someone about the mind-fuck GameSetMatch has played on you. You need to find a way to let this go."

"You love her? Really?" She stares up at me, pain and frustration mingling in her eyes.

"I do. Yeah. She's it for me."