**UNEDITED SUBJECT TO CHANGE**
As I sit in the break room at St. Nick’s Children’s hospital beside my friend Victoria and nibble on the massive snowman shaped sugar cookie, I stare at the tiny flat screen hanging on the wall.
“The storm of the century.”
“Biggest snow totals our area will see in fifty-two years.”
The weather man continues to go on and on and on about the North Eastern heading our way along the east coast. Of course the storm is going to hit Boston on Christmas Eve. I hear kid’s cheers echo the halls as they are promised snow for Christmas. It’s been a mild winter so far with only a dusting here or there. When you walk outside of this hospital you’re greeted by nothing but cold brisk winds and crunchy grass beneath your feet.
I get it. As a kid and even now when I think Christmas I picture white fluffy snowflakes slowly falling from the sky, children sledding or building snowmen outside with their friends, and sipping hot cocoa by a toasty fire as you watch the snow build up outside your window.
But, as an adult. Who actually has to work on Christmas, the idea of a fricking blizzard does not excite me. Especially since I have to work alongside the most pompous jerk in all of Boston: Dr. Deacon St. Nick.
This guy was blessed with the face of a freaking Greek God with high cheekbones, killer smile, dark olive skin and milk chocolate eyes, but was cursed with the too good for the whole goddamn world attitude!
Sadly it’s expected seeing he’s one of the best Oncologists in the United States and being groomed to one day be head Oncologist at the children’s hospital which by the way was founded by his great grandfather.
The guy had his entire privileged future planned out for him from the moment he flew out of his mother’s vagina. Unlike the nurses who work the wings of this hospital and a handful of doctors who all had to pour their blood, sweat, and tears into landing their dream jobs here, Deacon knew as soon as he completed Med School he had the perfect, cushy, lifelong job waiting for him on a silver platter.
He’s the head Oncologist at St. Nick’s with his father being the Chief of Hematology/Oncology department. Deacon is being groomed by the best to one day take over the position that his great grandfather, grandfather and now his father have all filled. Quite successfully too I might add. St. Nick’s has been voted number one children’s hospital in the United States or number two for the last twenty years.
It baffles me that he is such a douchebag.
His mother and father are the kindest, big hearted people I know. If it wasn’t for his mother I wouldn’t have the job as head nurse at St. Nick. I met them while I was working as a Charge Nurse at a small private nursing home. I was stationed on the Dementia wing and Deacon’s grandfather was one of the residents on my wing. I developed an amazing relationship and friendship with his mother, Debra. Deacon of course would come in time to time with his parents for their weekly visit with his grandfather. Every time he came in we’d all swoon over him and daydream about what it’d be like to have a night with the hot, young doctor. His mother always teased me that he was single and we’d make the perfect couple whenever she’d catch me watching him and blushing redder than a tomato.
Back then I admit the idea of dating him was something that crossed my mind many times. But soon that idea faded away and in its place the feelings of disgust took its place.
I couldn’t believe I had ever wanted to date this man. He was the biggest man whore. I can’t even count how many women I had to call florists for and have flowers delivered to. When he’s not working at the hospital or at the gym down the street taking multiple ‘mirror selfies’ showing off his way too good looking body, he’s whoring it up sleeping with nurses from the hospital, or pretty much anything with a beautiful face, and a model perfect body who resides in the Boston area.
Some of the nurses here I’ve overheard talking about me and Deacon. They assume I hate him because we’ve had sex and then I was tossed aside for another one of his conquests. It isn’t too far fetched since he has slept with a lot of staff here. Many who still trip over themselves whenever he’s nearby because they hold out hope one day he’ll come back for more–which he never does. It’s a onetime ride on the Douchebag of Boston train.
It drives his parents crazy. They’ve voiced their disgust with their sons dating life many times to me while visiting with me at the nursing home, and now here at the hospital. They’re a big Greek Family with Deacon having three older sisters and already seven nieces and nephews. His mother has voiced her concerns many times that he’ll never settle down, never get married or give her any grandchildren to carry on the St. Nick last name for her and her husband Andrew.
I know his mother had ulterior motives the day she suggested I interview for one of the LPN positions in the Oncology department here at St. Nick’s. She had talked with me regularly and knew I was graduating from the University of Boston with my degree and was looking to leave the nursing home and get into a bigger hospital. I needed a higher paying job to help me with the massive pile of student loans I racked up so far.
She has been trying to play matchmaker for so long between Deacon and I that I think she believed if she got us a job working together we’d magically fall in love with one another after working side by side together here at the hospital.
Sadly, for her that didn’t happen. I’ve been here now a little over two years and with each passing day I think I hate him a little more. It baffles me that someone so handsome and charismatic with his patients can be so ugly on the inside and downright arrogant to everyone else around him.
We’ve never hung out outside of work–hell he barely notices my existence here when we work side by side for sometimes eighteen hours or more depending on if we pull a twenty-four hour shift here during any major crises that may occur.
I keep up with his social media which I sadly admit I follow him on and even went as far as adding him on Facebook. Which I blamed entirely on his mother. I told him she kept hounding me about not being friends with him when we work together so closely here. That friendship is key for a successful work atmosphere. To my surprise he bought it. I’m guessing it’s because he’s used to his overly baring mother trying to play matchmaker for all of his adult life.
The only thing that gets me out of bed every morning are the amazing smiles on the children’s faces when I walk into this place. I never knew true courage, determination, strength and perseverance until I started working here. Watching day in and day out these kids fight against the odds and refuse to ever give up even on their final days, it’s the swift kick in the ass I need to be grateful for my health, my family and the career I’ve been blessed with.
I think the only time I ever witness Dr. Douchebag smile is when he’s with a patient and their family. That’s the one redeeming quality he has is that he is an amazing doctor who fights with everything he has to help these kids walk out of here healthy and smiling.
To his co-workers though it seems his goal in life is to make every single one of us miserable and counting down the hours until we can get away from his miserable ass.
In his eyes no one can do anything better than he can. He’s always right…like to the point that he makes me daydream on a daily basis of shoving his stethoscope up his overly tight ass in replacement of the damn stick that has been stuck up it since the day I met him.
If I didn’t know any better I’d think he enjoyed driving me crazy…the damn narcissist. Getting off on making my days here miserable and barely tolerable because it seems that nothing I do is right. Dr. St. Nick always has to make it his priority in life to point out every little thing he thinks I’m doing wrong and why his way is always the only way.
“Thanks God I’m driving back to New Hampshire tonight so I’ll beat this stupid snow storm.” Victoria says as she reaches across the table and snatches another sugar cookie from the platter on the break table.
Mrs. Woodard brought them in this morning along with a stack of Tupperware full for kids and families on our wing. She’s like the resident mom always making sure everything stays running smoothly around here. She run the nurses’ station and patient check in/check out for the last fifteen years or so. The stories that woman tells could be turned into a gazillion books or movies. Who knew lives of nurses and doctors could be so scandalous?
“I’m going home for New Years. I already volunteered to work Christmas this year so my parents’ took a week long cruise to Mexico…” I let out an aggravated sigh stealing a glance at the television before shifting my attention back to Victoria. “I’m starting to think I should’ve taken up their offer to go along with them and my brother and his family, because lounging poolside on Christmas day sounds a hell of a lot better than shoveling my car out of six feet of snow.”
Victoria laughs, spitting cookie crumbs across the table which draws more than a few stares our way from other nurses trying to enjoy their dinners. “You are crazy! I would pick white sand beaches over fricking snow any day!” She chokes out before chugging her water bottle and washing down the cookie, at least what’s left of it after spitting half of it out all over the damn table and herself.
“Cover your mouth you pig.” I tease slapping her arm playfully before standing and shoving my chair back behind me causing a loud screeching sound to echo throughout the break room.
Rolling her eyes she doesn’t respond, instead gets to work brushing the crumbs from her top and cleaning up her trash. Victoria shoves her chair back loudly as she collects her trash into her hands so we can walk over to the trash together and grab our coffees before heading back out onto the floor. It’s our daily schedule and we’ve done this every day for almost two years. She’s my partner in crime here and I am eternally grateful. Especially when I feel certain people watching us as we get to work pouring our coffees.
I glance nonchalantly towards the table of girls I’ve dubbed the “mean girls” and catch them glare our way. Every workplace has that annoying cliché of bitches who think they shit fucking glitter and their farts smell like goddamn roses. Of course all of them are in the I-fucked-Deacon-Club, and the crazy part is that they’re all like best friends who do stupid slumber parties and paint each others nails before going out and whoring it up at the local nightclubs on their days off. Who the hell wants to share a man with their best friends? That’s just beyond crazy and makes my brain hurt just thinking about it. Talk about gross. They’ve all pretty much fucked each other seeing as his dick’s had a round with each one of them. Of course you’d guess it they have the snobby-stuck-up-high-school-bitch girl names that we all knew and hated when we were teenagers.
Well at least I did seeing as I’m pushing thirty next year God help me.
The overly tanned one is, Ashley: whose twenty pounds overweight but refuses to wear any clothes that are not four sizes too small because she insists she’s a size two instead of the size eight she really is so her ass and tits are always spilling out of everything she wears outside of work.
The one beside her is, Tiffany: She’s the poster child for trust fund brat who’s only working so she can say she doesn’t live off daddy which we all know is bullshit because she cannot afford her Mercedes and uber chic apartment in the best area of Boston on a nurse’s salary. She always comes to work with perfectly manicured nails, refuses to clean up puke, piss or shit claiming she suffers from a weak stomach and strong gag reflex–sucks for any guy who wants to get blown by her…actually the thought of her up chucking all over Deacon’s dick kind of brightens my damper mood. She’s pretty but her personality is hideous. We actually look kind of alike, both 5’4”, athletic build, naturally tanned skin thanks to our Italian heritages. The only difference is my nose, tits and teeth are all mine. Her on the other hand sadly cannot same the same. She’s like Tiffany 2.0 compared to the Tiffany I’ve seen on her older Facebook photos.
Yes I admit I have these dumb bitches on my Facebook and Instagram too. I want to blow my brains out every time one of their ‘poor me’ or ‘Oh my God! Look what I am doing today!’ posts appear on my phone. But the twats all added me as soon as they learned who my boss was because you know, girls have to keep their friends close—and their enemy’s closer.
It drives me crazy that everyone thinks I’m sleeping with Dr. Douchebag.
Seriously! I have way more respect for myself and my vagina.
The third girl is Megan. She’s the Regina George of the group. She’s the biggest bitch of them all. Like the infamous villain she’s tall, blonde, and perfect in every way. So much so that I wish every time she goes to the salon for a root touch up that they’ll accidentally turn her too perfect hair green. Or that someone will accidentally lace her food with appetite inducing medication so she gets a fat ass.
She is the worst out of the group because she pulls off the sweet and innocent act perfectly. Debra loves her and every single time I see them POW WOWING around the hospital I want to drop kick the girl. She could care less about Debra, Andrew or Deacon. She only cares about their bank accounts. Out of the three girls she’s the only one who is still heavily pursuing Deacon. I’ve heard her say more times than I can count that she would do anything to hook him. It’s not because she is in love with him it’s entirely because she is in love with the cushiony life he can give her.
Anyone knows better than me he isn’t the settling down type. So the only thing that would guarantee that bitch the St. Nick money and status would be to have Deacon’s baby. Now, I cannot stand the guy but his parents are amazing people. As are his siblings. How he was born the way he is has totally has to be blamed on his peers because he is definitely the odd man out in the group of kind hearted people.
Being the professional that I am I bite my tongue whenever I see Megan and Debra together though and keep walking. If I ever said anything it would only fuel Debra’s desire to see me become Mrs. Deacon St. Nick. There’s no way in hell that’ll ever happen. So I mind my own business and let the douchebag deal with the situation on his own. If he’s stupid enough to sleep with her he can pay the consequences. They’ve only been together one time from what I’ve gathered by their way too loud gossip fests they have in here on a daily basis. But she’s convinced it’s only a matter of time before the hot doctor decides it’s time to retire his playboy ways and want to settle down. When he does she’ll gladly be right there waiting.
I may have just puked up my dinner a little thinking about it. The world doesn’t need the spawn of Dr. Douchebag and Nurse Hoebag running ramped around Boston.
“Time to get back to the grind. Let’s pray Deacon is too busy caring for patience to notice my existence for the remainder of the afternoon. I swear he’s on his damn man period today. He’s extra irritable.”
“Maybe I should grab a tampon and some Midol out of my locker and leave it on his desk with a note saying, Sorry about your man period. Hope this helps. I’d even leave one of my emergency Hershey bars too for good measure.”
I bust out laughing as we push through the double doors and head to the wall to clock back in. Grabbing my badge I swipe it and punch my code before stepping to the side to give Victoria room to clock in.
“I would pay to see that. I’d so hide my phone in his office to video that because it’d be priceless. We all know he’s too cool to let us see that we got a rise out of him, so that’d be the only way to witness history as it went down.”
We’re still laughing as we making our way towards the hall where Deacon’s office is. Just as we pass by it he pops his head out causing us both to squeal with surprise.
“Ladies. Nice to see you care about punctuality today.”
I force a smile and try to refrain from snatching his clip board out of his hands and whacking him upside the head with it. So much for him being off somewhere actually working. I swear he hangs out in his office for his break just for the simple fact that he knows I take mine at the same time and need to walk past his door to get back onto the floor and back to work.
It never fails he’ll be right here waiting to see if we’re back on time or coming on a few minutes late.
“The break room was uneventful today and depressing with all the talk about snow. So we figured what the hell let’s be over achievers and get back to work on time today.” My voice says sweet and polite, but my words scream ‘I’m a sarcastic bitch’.
I take a step back as Deacon takes a step towards me with a cocky smirk playing on his lips. I lean even further as his hand reaches out towards my face. I considered dropping onto my ass before letting this jerk put his hands on me but before I could do so he grabs my arm steadying me as a deep, delicious laugh leaves his lips. I immediately hate him more because no matter how much I despise the jerk, I can’t deny the fact the man is ridiculously hot, and his laugh makes my girly parts light up like the fricking fourth of July.
“You got a little something…” His words trail off as the pad of his thumb brushes across the corner of my lip wiping away vanilla frosting from my face. “I see you couldn’t resist the platter of sugar cookies Mrs. Woodard brought in this morning.”
I’m beyond mortified. And suddenly feeling the need to go to the gym and run five hundred thousand miles as I feel his eyes roaming slowly over my body but revealing nothing as they do so.
One thing is for certain–he is in no way, shape, or form attracted to me.
At this very moment I feel like a five year old being cleaned up by her father…so not like one of those erotic moments in the steamy books I read where the guy would pin the chick up against the wall and suck the frosting off of her face.
Nope. That doesn’t happen to girls like me.
Megan, maybe. But me? Not a chance in hell.
He looks at his thumb momentarily before bringing it up to his lips and sucking the frosting off of it.
My knees quake beneath me.
Holy hell…that was hot.
Why? Why the hell did he have to do that?
This is the story of my life. I hate him, I want to fuck him, and then I hate him some more because he makes me want to fuck him.
I hate Deacon St. Nick.
By that smirk on his face and that stupid twinkle in his eye he knows it too. He enjoys that fact that I want him and hate his guts way too much to ever give in to it. He is one man on this planet I will never have sex with.
No matter how good looking he is.
“Don’t just stand around here loitering all day ladies. We have children to tend to.” His words are like a swift slap to my face knocking the stupid out of me and helping rational Marina to resurface.
I look to Victoria who raises a brow at me as she bites back a smile. “He’s right, Victoria. We should really get back to work.” Turning my attention back to Deacon I nod at his left hand which was just on my face moments ago. “Thanks for the help.” Before walking in step with Victoria back towards the nurse’s station to get our folders and get back to work.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t shake my ass extra hard the entire walk down the corridor with the hopes that all my squats are paying off and my ass looks killer in these scrubs. I may hate the guy but every girl wants to make a guy want her even if she has zero plans to ever act of the urge to jump the others bones.
Misery loves company. Right now I’m as miserable as they come.