Free The Devil Wears Scrubs by Freida McFadden

much.
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    I’m discharging Mrs. Thompson with the kidney infection, which means I have to find the sheet to write out her discharge summary and medications. I go to 3-North, where Mrs. Thompson is located, and find a file cabinet in the back room that supposedly contains all the forms. I pull open the drawer to the file cabinet.
    Wait. What was I looking for?
    Oh right… discharge paperwork.
    I start rifling through the papers: antibiotic forms, radiology forms, insulin sliding scales… oh my God, I am so tired…
    Wait. What was I looking for?
    Crap.
    I check my notes. Right, discharge summary form.
    I am really, really tired.
    “Medicine Intern!”
    I look up and see none other than Sexy Surgeon himself standing in front of me. Or Ryan, I think he said his name was. His thick blond hair is slightly mussed and his scrubs a bit wrinkled, but other than that, there’s no sign that he’s been awake most of the night. I’m sure he hasn’t spent the last ten minutes searching for a discharge form because he was too tired to think straight.
    “Hey,” I mumble.
    “You look tired,” he observes.
    Gee, thanks. “Yeah, I’m kind of tired.”
    “Well, you’re in luck,” he says. “I’ve got a huge treat for you.”
    I raise my eyebrows. I admit, I’m intrigued.
    Ryan grins at me, showing off his perfectly straight, white teeth. He’s close enough that I can smell his minty breath. I wonder if he brought a toothbrush with him to the hospital. “In a few minutes,” he says proudly, “you are going to get to see me completely rip apart one of your co-interns. I am going to destroy her. I’m going to make her cry , Jane. I’m going to make her wish she’d never been born.”
    And now I feel guilty because the idea of seeing someone else get yelled at is not entirely distasteful. I remember how good it felt when I let off some steam on Dr. Reilly. Maybe this is why everyone in medicine is so damn mean.
    “So what horrible thing did this poor intern do?” I ask.
    Ryan snorts. “You wouldn’t even believe it. She left this really bitchy, completely inappropriate message on my pager. About how she was going to hold me personally responsible for her patient or some bullshit like that, just because I didn’t return her page the second she snapped her fingers. I mean, she’s a freaking intern . Can you believe the nerve?” He shakes his head. “You haven’t seen Dr. McGill around, have you? Someone told me she was on this floor.”
    Oh no.
    I am a complete idiot. Seriously. How in hell did I not realize that Ryan had to have been the surgery resident on call for consults last night? And now, for the first time, his badge is flipped around the right way and I can see his name. Ryan Reilly, MD.
    I am so screwed. Sexy Surgeon is about to make me cry.
    “I don’t think I’ve seen her,” I say carefully. I’m such an awful liar.
    “Oh.” Ryan frowns, disappointed. “Do you know where she went? The nurse on the phone said she was here like five minutes ago.”
    “Maybe the nurse was messing with you,” I suggest.
    Ryan laughs. “Oh, no. That would never happen.”
    Yeah, I’ll just bet.
    “Damn,” he says. “Well, I’ll catch up with her eventually. Too bad you won’t get to see it.”
    “Too bad,” I mumble. And the Academy Award goes to… Jane McGill!
    And I almost get away with it. I am so close. Except at that moment, a tiny Philippina nurse named Mary peeks her head into the back room and says to me, “Dr. McGill, you forgot to sign the order you wrote for Tylenol.”
    Ryan’s eyes light up and he looks around for the elusive Dr. McGill . The whole thing would be almost amusing if it wasn’t so terrifying. It actually takes him a good fifteen seconds before he realizes that we’re the only two people in the room. That’s when his face darkens. “ You …”
    “I a m so sorry,” I say. My voice has taken on an unattractively whiny, pleading tone. “I was paging you all night.