Page 11 of Love Medley (Med Wreck Romance #1)

Iz used to have a roommate, but after our first year of medical school, that classmate moved to a cheaper location.

Because Iz enjoyed having more space to herself, her indulgent parents supplemented the extra cost, enabling her to live alone.

The second bedroom is now her craft room, filled with jewelry-making supplies, paints of various shades, and pieces of shimmery fabric.

The first time I saw her craft room, I was horrified by the clutter and had to leave quickly before I started organizing her stuff. Weston would have lost his mind if I had a room like that.

Although Iz is a hoarder by nature, she generally keeps the public parts of her apartment clutter-free.

Her enormous dining table is the one exception—it’s currently covered in pediatrics textbooks, her notes, a Netter’s Atlas of Human Anatomy, and her laptop.

The living-room area adjacent to the dining room has a couple of plump leather couches, an antique coffee table, lamps, and a flat-screen TV.

To my relief, everything is the same as I remember.

I’ve had more than enough change lately.

Dropping my oversized hobo leather bag next to her couch, I sink onto the comfortable cushions. There are already two stemless glasses and a bottle of rosé wine on the coffee table.

My insides constrict instantly at the sight—Weston wouldn’t approve of me drinking.

I only hesitate slightly before deciding to ignore his disapproval. We aren’t dating any more, after all.

As Isabelle pours the pink liquid into the glasses, I sigh, the pressure of the day leaving my body. Tonight's ER shift was busy even without all the added drama. Mentally, emotionally, and physically, I’ve been on edge, so relaxing with Iz is one step short of heaven.

“I hope I haven’t interrupted your studying,” I say, trying to tamp down my almost giddy eagerness to tell Isabelle about Jake. I need to catch up with her first, not launch into all that.

“No, hon. I’m plumb worn out. My brain is going fuzzy with all the facts I need to know for my Pediatrics Infectious Diseases rotation.” Isabelle has a disgruntled look on her face.

Uh oh. From her expression, I’m now honed in on her—something’s not right. “How is that going?”

“It’s harder than I thought,” Iz sighs. “The ID residents are hardcore. They’ve memorized lists and lists of viruses and bacteria. But me? I constantly have to look up the names of really obscure organisms and their treatments, and I can’t keep them straight no matter how long I study.”

I sense that Isabelle is trying to cover up her discomfort, so I try to lighten the mood. “Oof. No, thank you. How about some broad-spectrum antibiotics for everyone? Done and done.”

Iz laughs, her face breaking open in a more genuine smile. “Such an ER gal. My attending would pitch a hissy fit if she heard you use the term 'broad-spectrum antibiotics.' It’s all ‘If you don’t narrow them yesterday, you’re doing it wrong’ with her.”

She takes a quick sip of her wine. “I just feel so stupid on the rotation. How can I expect anyone to take me seriously if I can’t even come up with a reasonable differential?”

I frown. “Iz, you're so smart. I’m convinced that ID doctors have a photographic memory; they need one for the sheer amount of information they store in their brains. There are a lot of different types of doctors, and that’s a specialty that I have no interest in for that reason alone.

Anyone who meets you would know how brilliant you are. ”

“I guess so. My scores indicate otherwise.” She stares at her glass, her lips straightening out into a line.

Isabelle has always been sensitive about her perceived intelligence.

And her parents assume she’s not cut out for academics when nothing could be further from the truth.

It occurs to me that Weston would have thrown a fit when confronted with the possibility he wasn't the smartest person in the room, but Isabelle’s never once lashed out at me. The contrast is stark .

Then Jake flickers into my mind. I have a feeling he’d never react that way either.

Why didn't it ever occur to me that Weston’s reactions were off?

“Scores aren’t the whole story. You’re amazing,” I say out loud, attempting to refocus.

“Thanks,” Isabelle says.

With the finality in her tone, I figure she’d like to talk about something else. From past experience, I know I’m not going to change her mind, even though I wish I could. “You’re thinking Peds then?”

Iz nods, looking relieved at the subject change. “Yeah! I love being in the Children’s Hospital. It’s such a bright and happy place. Anyway, enough about me.” She lifts her glass. “To us,” she declares.

“This is exactly what I needed.” I take a long, refreshing sip. It’s delicious and perfectly chilled. But the panic that took hold of me in the ER resurfaces, and I almost choke on the liquid.

“Oh my goodness, Lucy, what’s wrong?” Iz’s eyes are immediately concerned.

I cough. “Oh, it just went down the wrong pipe.”

I pound my chest a little too vigorously and wave her off.

Will I ever be able to have a glass of wine in peace without Weston’s voice haranguing me about empty calories?

“Okay, well, once you recover yourself, stop asking me about my rotation, and tell me about this guy you just met.” Isabelle still looks worried .

“I…don’t know where to start.” I flush—the combination of the wine debacle and the reminder of Jake is overwhelming.

Now that it’s time to talk about him, my words tangle in my mouth.

How do I even begin trying to describe Jake and my immediate reaction to him?

The moment I met him, my senses went into overdrive: my heart beating in triple time, my nerves firing from a mere handshake, and my belly fluttering as his gentle gray eyes assessed me.

Wait—why am I thinking about him like that? He’s a super nice guy, but ultimately only around to help me stave off Weston for good.

“I’m assuming he’s cute.” Iz winks, leaning back against the couch.

“He is,” I admit. “Not that it matters.”

In fact, everything about Jake is appealing—his dimples, his dark wavy hair, his steady gaze, his strong hands. But even more than that: his gentle nature, his steadying presence, his calm in the midst of my chaos.

Clearly, I need to control my thoughts over this guy. Nothing good will come of me daydreaming about Jake. I need to focus.

Iz’s brow furrows. “What do you mean it doesn’t matter?”

I take a deep breath. Here we go. “I might have gotten myself into a pretend relationship.”

Isabelle’s eyes pop wider. “Lucy Chang. Way to bury the lede! Tell me everything right this instant, you brazen hussy!”

Some of my initial consternation fading, I laugh at Isabelle’s obvious delight. Over the next few minutes, I update her on how I ran into Weston in the ER and how I convinced Jake to be my fake boyfriend. I leave out the panic attack and the abused patient; that moment still feels too raw.

“And now Jake’s coming with me to the Centennial Dinner.”

Iz claps her hands together in glee. “Oh yay! Then I’ll get to meet this mystery man. I have to go to the Centennial because Daddy is flying in from Georgia.”

“Are Zoe and Amelia going?” I doubt it because the event is expensive, and it’s mostly for the higher ups in Blackwell. Originally, I was only going as Weston’s date.

“Nah,” Isabelle says. “And I’m jealous they’re not. Before you told me you were going, I was dreading it, to be honest. These dinners tend to be incredibly boring.”

“Since Weston and I had broken up, I hadn’t planned on attending,” I admit. “But Weston kind of forced the issue.”

Then it hits me: I asked Jake to the dinner, but I don’t actually have a way to get him in. Tickets are exclusive…and expensive.

“Can I ask you a huge favor? I only have my ticket to the Dinner, but I need one for Jake. I know you guys usually get extras—does your dad have any?”

Isabelle nods without hesitation. “Oh yeah, that’s no problem. We always have more tickets than we know what to do with. I’ll meet you out front with your ticket the night of the event.”

Then she sighs, deeply and happily. “Fake dating is one of my all time favorite tropes. This is the perfect start to your love story.”

“Iz!” I exclaim, my cheeks flushing. “This is just to get rid of Weston! Remember our pact to swear off love this year? ”

Iz rolls her eyes. “Pact shmact. Who cares about that? We all just agreed to it because of stupid Weston. Don’t pass up this hot nurse because we’ve all had some rotten luck with guys. Jake sounds like one of the rare good ones.”

She’s not wrong.

“He's really sweet.” Even as I say the words, I know they’re a huge understatement. I remember how grounded he made me feel during the most stressful moments of the day. All at once, my cheeks grow even hotter.

“Lucy, you're blushing, girlfriend!” Isabelle is gleeful. “You are crushing hard for Jake!”

“No way. I don't have crushes.” I only noticed Weston because he made it impossible for me to ignore him. As for Jake…could I really be crushing on him? It definitely feels overly warm in here.

Iz’s eyes glow. “Maybe Jake is your type, and you never knew it until now."

"Hah." But even as I say that, I have to admit—my instant reaction to Jake was completely unexpected. The moment we shook hands for the first time. And his scent—that mix of musk and spice—left me dazed. Then came the panic attack. And the whole fake dating situation. So yeah, daydreaming about a guy like this? Not only is it so not my style, it’s a terrible idea.

I mean look at my ex. Weston is just more evidence of my stellar decision-making skills.

And anyway, there’s Sam.

I attempt to ignore the pang that hits my chest .

Iz clasps her hands together. “I’m so thrilled for you, Luce. This is even better than a movie.”

“Always the romantic,” I laugh. I’ve forgotten how fun this was—just gossiping about cute guys. She’s the champion of love, after all.

And maybe of me too?