All Chapters of 7 Years of Medical Porn: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

My apartment was exactly the mess I had left it. Books on the floor. A plate on the desk I had no memory of using. My study corner looking like someone had given up on it mid-thought, which was accurate.Mid-semester tests in three weeks. I was behind in physiology. Behind in histology. Somehow behind in biochemistry, which didn't make sense because I actually liked biochemistry. The group had been good for a lot of things. Studying was not one of them.My mum's voice kept replaying in my head. We had talked the morning after the funeral. She made tea and sat across from me at the kitchen table like she used to when I was in high school and something was wrong."You seem like you have a lot on your mind," she said."It's medical school.""It's something else too."I looked at my mug. "I'm fine.""I'm not asking if you're fine. I'm asking if you're doing the right things.""Mum.""I'm serious. I didn't raise you to go there and lose yourself. You're going to be a doctor. That means som

Cade didn’t say “sugar.”That was the first thing I noticed. I got to the door at exactly 8, after ten minutes of standing in the parking lot. He opened it and said, “Hey.” Just that. Like I was a package he’d been expecting.I missed the sugar. I hated that I missed it.“Not here,” he said. “My room.”The living room was dark, the TV on mute. Banu’s car was in the drive. I noticed it and didn’t think anything of it, which, looking back, was my first mistake of the night.His room smelled like him. The Guyton and Hall was open on the desk again, different page. I took the study chair, far from the bed. He sat on the edge of it, and his eyes dropped to my collarbone. The necklace. I had worn it. Why did I wear it?“You’re angry,” I said.“I’m not.”“Your voice is flat.”“That’s what my voice does when I’m trying not to say something stupid.”I almost smiled.“I need to tell you something,” he said. “I haven’t told anyone else.”“Okay.” I listened attentively. I couldn’t guess anything

Cade finally texted. But why call me sugar? I’m not sure I want him now. Maybe I wanted Amaye more. I was more displeased by the fact that I wanted Amaye more. Probably that’s my reason for the break. I was in self-denial. Or probably didn’t want awkward settings. But I’m entitled to my feelings.“Hey, how are you?”I tried to sound casual as usual. I wasn’t sure why I replied.At 11:12 that night, I got a reply.Why did he take so long? I was a little concerned. I was going to be petty. I dropped my phone and continued the episode of Grown-ish I was watching.On Saturday the sports hall was louder than I’d expected. A drumline with real conviction. A mascot whose costume had clearly lost a fight with a dryer. I found a seat in the third row and did what I’d been told, sat there and looked like I was enjoying it. By the second quarter I actually was.Edjar was a different person on the court. At the café he’d been soft-spoken. Out here he never stopped talking, pointing, calling, movi

I did what any dignified woman would do. I made a noise I’m not proud of and shut the door in his face.“Give me a second!” I yelled through the wood.No answer. Cade? What was he doing here?I stood in the middle of my room with my heart doing something unhelpful. Cade, with his hand on my doorframe like he paid rent. And Amaye was somewhere between his condo and here, carrying a bag and a text I couldn’t unsend.The first thing my hand touched was a green sundress I’d worn exactly once. Thin. Very thin. I pulled it over my head and looked in the mirror, and my body, the traitor, clearly hadn’t been told the evening had changed. The fabric did a terrible job of keeping secrets. There was no time for a sweater. He’d waited long enough.I opened the door again. He hadn’t moved. Hand off the frame now, both in his pockets, eyes on my face. Politely, painfully on my face. I appreciated it and I resented it.“Come in,” I said. I don’t know why. My mouth had been making decisions without m

The second half was a different game, because I was watching a different game.I stopped following the ball. I watched Edjar and Fanek. Edjar threw a pass without looking and Fanek was already there, already shooting, the ball through the net before I’d worked out who threw it. The hall went up. They didn’t touch. Everyone else got a slap on the back. The two of them looked at the floor, jogged back, and did it again.It wasn’t a feud. It was two years of knowing exactly where the other person would be. I felt a bit sick and a bit moved, which is a bad combination at a basketball game.We won by seven. Edjar found me in the stands and lifted two fingers. I lifted two back. I wasn’t angry. That surprised me.Kith came bouncing back with snack wrappers. “Did you see that last pass?”“I saw.”“Banu says it’s the best passing pair in the league.”Of course they are. They were an item, for crying out loud. She was just stating the obvious.“Banu would know,” I said.Banu, expressionless, h