Page 11 of The One Where They Fall in Love

She stands up, ready to pounce. “Are you kidding me?”

Worse. Definitely worse.

“Ma—” Damn, since when did I say “ma’am” so much? Maybe I’m just so used to trying to sound cordial at the hospital that it’s just become a habit. “Elle—” She’s taken aback when I say her name. “Please keep your voice down. I don’t need any other tenants coming after me in the middle of the night.”

“Are you afraid of them? You’re as big as a fucking tree. Woman up, dude,” she says, animated hand motions accompanying every word. I take this moment when she doesn’t actively look like she’s going to lunge for my throat to notice that she’s wearing a thin t-shirt, which is a strange choice for an unheated hallway in March, but I guess it explains the blanket. Letting her tirade wash over me, my eyes track lower. She’s wearing pajama pants with… dogs in pajamas on them. Her pants havedogs with pajamason them. Pictures of cartoon dogs of varying shapes, sizes, and colors are spread across the fabric, each wearing a unique holiday sweater. I amsonot equipped to handle this.

Then there’s the fact that she’s not wearing a bra.

Mother of hell. She hasdogs wearing pajamasonherpajamas and I have a full view of her boobs through her shirt.

“Are you seriously looking at my chest right now?”

Aw, fuck.

I rub my fingers so deep into my eyes it hurts. I already feel the lack of sleep getting to me, even after one night shift. This new routine iskillingme.

“I really do not have the energy for this,” I mumble, taking a step toward my door. I look at my watch. 6:22. If I go inside now, I can walk Thor, do a quick twenty minutes on the treadmill and be showered and in bed by 7:30.

“Yeah, well, I don’t have the energy foranythinganymore because I never get any sleep!” she snaps back.

I take the calm approach, my training guiding me to talk softly and appear reasonable, just as if I was dealing with an unstable patient. Which clearly, I am.

“To be fair,” I start, putting my hands up like I’m approaching with caution. “You are the one sleeping on the floor outside of a stranger’s apartment. You could simply invest in some earplugs. Seems like a—”

“No, no,” she interrupts, the bun on her head bobbing with every wave of her hand. “This is not ameproblem. The problem is that you are the worst dog owner in the history of the planet. That poor thing is miserable when you’re gone. Don’t you feel bad at all?”

“Of course I do, but I have a job, and I think he’ll get used to it. It’s only been a few days,” I say, trying to rationalize with her and with the pang of guilt building in my chest. I do feel bad for leaving Thor, but what can I do?

“Did you get him from a shelter?” she asks. I sidestep the fact that is the first not-vile thing she’s said to me, and answer it plainly.

“My sister did, yeah,” I mumble through a yawn.

“And what do you think happened when the people who worked at the shelter went home for the night?”

“What?”

“What do you thinkhethought?” she asks matter-of-factly.

“I don’t—” What do I thinkhethought?Thor? She wants me to put myself in the dog’s head? I don’t even know how to respond to that.

“Do you think maybe he thought no one was going to come back in the morning?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Look, I don’t have to listen to this—” 6:26. This girl is messing with my schedule. I realize she doesn’t know or understand how much my schedule means to me, but my brain does. And if my schedule is off, then my sleep will be off, and… Ilikemy schedule.

“Yes, you do. And you have to let me meet him,” she demands.

“Um, no?”

“Yes, because the poor thing has heard us talking and I’m not done yelling at you, so open the damn door.”

“So I can listen to more yelling? Sign me up,” I drawl.

“Oh, just do it!” she whines, stomping her foot. She takes a step closer to me and folds her arms across her chest. I try to ignore the way the hairs on my arms stand up once she moves in. I look at her and run my eyes up and down her body, sizing up if she’s actually going to stay there. This girl is a real pain-in-the-ass, but she’s determined. I’ll give her that.

“Oh, oh, I’m convinced!” I mock, raising my hands in surrender before rolling my eyes. Still, she makes no move to step out of my personal space.