"I need four units stat!" Jen said as she rushed, pushing a stretcher away with a patient on it.

           The patient groaned weakly, she'd lost so much blood she could applaud her for still being conscious.

          "You're going to be okay, just stay with me," she reassured her, a girl who didn't look like she had even hit seventeen yet.

          "We need you here, Dr Harris!" One of the nurses in the ward called out.

          Jen was exhausted, right when her shift was done and she was about to leave, the trauma ward was suddenly very active again. Of course it was, there had been a bus accident after all.

          Dr Harris! Dr Harris! Dr Harris!

          It was all she could hear. But it didn't matter because this was just another day in her life. She wasn't going to rest until everything was silent again, or at least under control.

          Jen strapped on her gloves and got to work. "Stop," she said to a nurse who was just about to administer more drugs to a casualty she'd just tended to. "What is his status?"

          "He's only getting worse," the nurse explained.

          Jen took less than ten seconds to examine the man. "Epinephrine. He's having an allergic reaction. Let me know if his vitals persist on spiking."

          The nurse nodded and Jen walked over to the next patient. "What's her state?"

          "She's got a concussion. Blunt force trauma. She was completely fine just a moment ago then suddenly started having convulsions," a nurse practitioner explained to her.

          Jen turned her head and studied her for any signs, then saw a odd colorings in patches on her hand. "Don't stop the IV," she said. "Prep her for surgery right now!"

          As the patient was taken to an operating room, Jen quickly looked around then rushed to scrub in for surgery. But before she could, she was stopped.

          "Thank you Dr Harris, but we'll take it from here, go home and rest," said Dr Russo.

          Jen wasn't having it. "You need all the help you can get, you know we just had an accident."

          It didn't matter to Jen if she was tired, it was years of being a trauma surgeon honed into her bones. Once her brain switched to emergency mode, she was efficient and focused, sharp as a needle. Being tired ceased being an option anymore.

          "We have accidents all the time, this is a hospital," he said.

          She made to argue. "A bus–"

          "I am aware of the status of the trauma ward seeing as I am the head of it," he said.

          This conversation was pissing her off. She could have already scrubbed in by now.

          "Remember Dr Harris, you're human, just like the rest of us. I'm just preventing you from making a mistake. We have all the hands we need," he said as he finished scrubbing in and walked into the operating room. "I'll see you tomorrow."

          Jen was a little pissed off. She was made from stronger stuff, she knew that. She could handle a few more hours of being awake but there was no arguing with her superior when he got like that.

          There was no hole in his logic, so Jen left. Tired, but frustrated as fuck.

•••

          Michael Levin had the biggest disliking for the man who called himself his father. It wasn't really hatred but there was no way he could say he loved his father.

          His dad had just embarrassed him in front of all his associates and friends over how many things he was lacking in. Over how imperfect he was.

          Time and time again, his dad always made it a point to remind him that he wasn't the ideal son. Apparently, he missed his older son, James.

          Yeah, he missed his older brother too. He wasn't cut out for this type of life and all the demands that came with it. He wasn't a born businessman like his father, nor was he talented like his brother. But that didn't mean he was good for nothing.

          "I don't say these things to make you feel bad Michael, you know I love you. I'm just hoping you'll get more ambitious, or at least stand up for yourself," his dad said with a sad look in his eyes.

          "Is that how your father treated you? Did he have no regard for your feelings as well?" Michael asked. "I am not a businessman dad, when are you going to accept that? I'm not like JJ, stop trying to make me him."

          He used the nickname he made up for his brother. Using his real name would never have sounded right to him. He could never resent his brother, no matter how much his dad made that possible. If anything, he wished he was here. But he had more pressing matters to handle. In other words, he'd started a life for himself.

          "Take it easy Mike, I only said you were a little wet between the ears... among other things. No need for all this, let's go back," his dad said and went to touch his shoulder to usher him back into the room with his guests.

          "You can go fuck yourself," said Michael. He swatted his father's hand away and decided he was done with the gathering and playing nice to his father's friends.

          He left the house regardless of his father's protests. It was how he found himself in the club in need of a really strong drink.

          It was after one glass that he noticed her. A dark-skinned woman at the far end of the bar.

          All he could see was her profile, but he noticed she wore a black turtleneck with large hooped danglers and her hair tied in an extremely neat and high ponytail. She was also drinking his exact same drink.

          She suddenly turned and for a few seconds, in his direction but looking at something else entirely.

          Michael saw her face. Clear cut eyebrows and dark eyes. A pointy nose and a small mouth with luscious and succulent lips. He resisted the urge to lick his own.

          She was definitely a lot younger than him, five years apart maybe. He was twenty-seven, so that would make her around twenty-two.

          She was breathtaking and he couldn't stop himself from already fantasizing.

          What caught most of his attention before she turned back, was the scowl on her face. He could swear they were both in the same mood.

          He played a thousand scenarios in his head, of him walking over and talking to her. Maybe if he was lucky, he'd make her laugh.

          One of the scenarios was so realistic that he saw her right before him, sitting right there on the stool next to his and looking at him. But he knew for a fact that he was too shy to approach her. He didn't have those guts.

          "I hope you don't think you're hallucinating. I'm right here, and it is only polite that you answer me," she said.

          Michael half squeaked as he withdrew from resting on the counter.

          "I–I..." he stuttered.

          "That's a pretty blush," the goddess before him said.

          Michael wished he could hide, he hated that he always blushed at the worst times. He also didn't do so well with confrontations, it was always the women that approached him.

          "Thank you?" He asked. "You're so... beautiful."

          "So are you, but thanks," she said, getting more comfortable in the seat. "You were staring at me."

          If Michael wanted anything at that moment, it was for the ground to open up, and swallow him whole. "Yeah, sorry... You were looking uh, the way I felt."

          "And how is that?" She asked. He noticed how confidently she spoke. It was such a turn on.

          "Frustrated," Michael said and swallowed the last sip of his drink. "A little angry maybe."

          "That is true," she watched him put the glass down. "Can I buy you another drink?"

          Michael felt his dick twitch in his pants as most of his blood flowed to his crotch, creating quite the commotion internally. "You... Really? You want to?"

          "Why would I not want to?" The woman asked, never taking her eyes off him.

         "You're like way out of my league," he answered with all the sincerity his voice could carry.

          "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were blind," she said with a smirk and signaled to the bartender, then turned back to him. "What's your name?"

          "I'm Michael, and...uh...concerning this frustration, I have a suggestion," he said. He was being the boldest he'd ever been, but fuck it, she was unreal. "I'd–I'd like to know your name too."

          "I'm Jennifer. But call me Jen," she said and fully turned to him, pinning him to the spot with her focus. "What is it? This... suggestion."

          Michael hesitated first then cleared his throat. It's now or never, he thought. "I suggest ... you take your frustration out on me."