"If you say so."
"Only one? You eat a lot after you swim." She notes my wet hair and my post-swim sweats. "Where do you put it?"
"Huh?"
"You eat like a linebacker."
"Thank you…?"
"We should study you."
"What's to study? When I swim a lot, I eat a lot. It's not complicated."
She shakes her headif only you knew. "How many?"
"Two is fine," I say.
"I thought so." She turns back to the pan, humming ABBA as she works.
It's kind of adorable. She's usually inI have to be tough to survive med schoolmode. OrI don't have feelings, I have fuck buddiesmode.
I like seeing the other side of her.
It feels honest.
Maybe that's what I need to do with Patrick, with Julie, with anyone, share more of myself.
How can something so hard sound so easy?
I put my stuff away and take a seat.
She switches to humming Duran Duran, finishes the sandwiches, brings lunch to the table.
"Seriously, Imogen. I know how to kill," she says.
"Aren't doctors supposed to do no harm?"
"I'm not a doctor yet."
"Good loophole." I cut my first sandwich in half diagonally. "Thanks." Perfectly toasted bread, sharp cheddar, just enough butter to keep everything rich. Yum. "Really, these are great."
She cuts her sandwich in half. "What happened with the hot tattoo artist? Are you boning?"
"We have an arrangement, yes."
"And last night, right? You usually change after you swim. Today—" She motions to my UCLA sweats. "Those don't smell fresh."
"Sorry."
She motionsdon't worry about it. "How was it?"
"Good."
"Good is not a detail."
"Did we agree to share details?"
"This experiment was my idea."