His Games Her Rules

“Robyn, working many shifts and trying to avoid the real world is not going to get you laid. You need to get out and have fun and since today is my birthday, you don’t have any excuse.” My best friend and roommate, Monique, rants on the phone as I listen to her chirpy voice through the earbuds in my ears.

I want to argue with her and point out for the millionth time that I’m okay the way I am and that I don’t need a man, but instead, I clamp my mouth shut. There is no point. Because I’m going to go home and Monique will be there to remind me how I’m not getting laid enough.

So instead, I do what’s best for my brain right now, which means not arguing with her as I fill out my report. “Sure thing, Mom. I hear you.”

“Are you being sarcastic again?” Monique asks. I can picture her smirking with her forefinger in between her lips, biting the nail.

“Something like that.” I chuckle. “Look, I gotta go. I have got work to do and right now you’re not being helpful.”

“Robyn—“

I smile. “Yeah, got you. I need to get out and get laid. We’re gonna talk later.” I hang up immediately, taking in deep breaths as I shut my eyes for a second.

Fuck, y’all let me be for a second.

As I fill out my report, with Katy Perry Roar blasting from my earbuds, I hum the lyrics of the song. A pale hand appears in my vision, knocking on the desk, as I raise my head at once, locking eyes with a pair of green eyes.

“Fuck, you surprised the shit out of me,” I say to this stranger as I pull out one earbud and pause the song.

He stands upright, a small smile on his lips as he watches me. “You’ve got a potty mouth, huh?”

“Um, who are you?” I ask, briefly giving him a once-over.

The stranger in front of me is tall, with short blonde hair, broad shoulders, good looking, and from the lab coat he’s wearing, I think he’s a doctor. And damn, he’s fine. Like really fine. If I was into a workplace affair, this man in front of me would have been a good lay.

But who cares, right?

"I'm Doctor Sanders." He says, briefly giving me a once over as he slips his hands into his lab coat pockets.

Doctor? Interesting.

"Oh. I'm Robyn. Robyn Denver. I’m a practical nurse here."

"Yeah, I know you. I called your name like three times while I watched you hum loudly." He says as he stares at me.

“I’m sorry. I had earbuds on.”

"You're pretty popular around here.”

“Is that so?”

"Sort of," he says and exhales. "Well, I'll be taking over from Doctor Ricci, so you'll be working with me from now henceforth."

"What happened to Doctor Ricci?"

"Oh, he got transferred. I'm in charge now."

"And he's left?"

"Are you two dating?" Dr. Sanders asks, his gaze scrutinizing. I try not to roll my eyes.

Over my dead body will I date that dog. Also, relationships are the last thing I want right now.

"No! What?" I scoff and drop the pen on the desk. "Do you need assistance?"

"Yes, I do. I need you to take a patient's blood sample for me and please be careful when you do that. Doctor Ricci told me about your work here.”

“Did he?” I ask and stand up, as Doctor Sanders and I walk out of the nurses’ station together.

“Not very good stuff, if I may say.”

Of course. Why am I not surprised?

I've always rooted for Doctor Ricci. He was my favorite Doctor in this hospital for a while until he fucked things up. He was pretty hot, and I knew for a fact he was a man slut, but he was great. He was good-looking and attractive, almost all the female nurses and a few doctors found him insanely attractive. He was cherished by everyone, including the president of this hospital. But behind the charisma and the stance lies an arrogant pervert.

“And after the blood sample, prep yourself, you’re joining me in surgery.” Doctor Sanders says. And with a small smile, he disappears into a corner.

Fuck my life.

The patient’s blood sample I’m supposed to take is a man in his mid-twenties. After taking his blood sample, I drop it off at the lab and prepare myself for surgery with the new Doctor.

As I watch him work, I continue to hum Katy Perry’s Roar under my breath. It’s like a stress-free song for me. Whenever I’m under a lot of pressure from work, this is my go-to song partially because it reminds me of who I used to be before I moved to New York. This song is a motivation, actually.

Doctor Sanders isn't all that bad. He's like Doctor Ricci, the difference is that Doctor Sanders doesn't flirt like Ricci. Which is nice. When Doctor Ricci still worked here, he would constantly flirt with the nurses and residents, and oftentimes he would touch them inappropriately. I fucking despised him. The only good quality about him is that he was a good doctor. A surgeon, actually, and everyone adored him to the point they turned a blind eye to every one of his filthy habits.

In the few hours I've worked with Doctor Sanders today, he is always quiet. We’ve barely had any discussion or conversation and I liked that for a change. Doctor Ricci was arrogant and he talked a lot to the point he always talked out of point.

"Robyn, can you stop?" Doctor Sanders asks, the mask he’s wearing muffled his words a little.

"What?"

"Can you please stop humming to that song and tapping your feet on the floor like an old person? That’s not attractive at all." Okay, who cares?

"I hum to Roar when I'm stressed," I say.

Doctor Sanders sighs as he fights the urge to rub his temple. That's exactly what I've been doing this past hour, annoying the shit out of Doctor Sanders. I'm sure he's thinking about resigning already.

"Are you okay?" I ask, with mockery in my tone as I smirk at him.

"Please, stop humming. I can't concentrate on that loud annoying humming. It's like the whistling of a kettle." He says, with his very evident Scottish accent.

I roll my eyes.

"Sure thing, Sandals," I mutter, purposefully calling him sandals.

"Sanders." He corrects my wrong pronunciation of his name. "It's Doctor Sanders for you. Not Sanders or Sandals."

"Okay. Doctor Sandals." I say with a sly smirk. I'm never calling him Doctor Sanders anytime soon.