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Mel didn’t like parties. Not that she ever got invited to them in high school. That was fine by her. Loud music and drunk teenagers, not her idea of a fun night out. She liked watching familiar movies or doing puzzles, she liked being in bed by 9:00 pm. She liked spending time with her sister, or reading a good book. Right now she was doing none of those things. Right now she was sitting on the counter in her bathroom, knees pressed against the faucet, leaning as close as possible to the mirror. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done her makeup. She used to enjoy it, actually, when she’d been in the habit of wearing it. She had been skilled enough, for a time, to actually feel like she was pretty. Not anymore. Now she’d put on and taken off her eyeliner about three times in a row, because she couldn’t get it just right. Frustration was building in her chest and she really didn’t want to go to this dumb fundraiser thing anyway.
Not to say she didn’t want funds raised for the hospital. The only reason she was going at all was because of the funds promised to the hospital. She kept telling herself that this was all for the hospital. But it had been a hassle from start to present. The last time she’d bought a fancy dress was for her high school Prom, which she didn’t even attend. Her mom had been having a rough night, sweating and shaking and upset. Neither of her parents remembered their offer to drive her, and she didn’t want to ask. She didn’t want to be a bother, and she didn’t want to go to prom that badly, anyway. It’s not like she had a date. But that was almost 15 years ago, and her prom dress was terribly out of style, and didn’t fit anymore, either. So dress shopping. Nothing felt flattering, everything was expensive, and she had to zip herself in and out of the dresses by herself. She’d never been more grateful to be hypermobile than as she pulled the zippers all the way up her own back. She eventually settled on one, a decent price, a pretty color, and what was her best guess at a flattering cut for her body. She looked… fine. Acceptable. Presentable and professional in a public setting. That was the best she had to offer right now.
Once she finally got her eyeliner right, she dusted a blush on her cheeks, keeping it light, and finished the look with a tinted chapstick. She was keeping her hair out, having curled it just slightly, romantic waves sweeping over her shoulder. She’d have to deal with it touching her, since she didn’t have the time or the patience to deal with any sort of formal updo. She wasn’t overly fond of her hair loose, but nothing was worse than an uneven updo, the hair pulling on one side or the other, or the feeling of bobby pins poking her scalp, the thought made her nauseous. If she wasn’t doing her signature braid, loose would be okay. Worst of all was that she wouldn’t be wearing her glasses. They tended to smudge the makeup she wore on the bridge of her nose, and the harsh black plastic didn’t suit the otherwise soft look she was going for. She didn’t like contacts, either, so she’d be flying blind. She’d bring her glasses, keep them in a soft pouch in her bag, of course, just in case, but she wouldn’t wear them, for part of the night at least. She’d wear them while she ubered there, and hope the makeup didn’t smudge too terribly.
—-
Frank didn’t like parties. He’d been to his fair share, in high school and college, but he’d never really enjoyed them. He was a pretty social guy, always had been, but large groups of people, all having their own separate conversations, kinda made his head hurt. He couldn’t ever focus on the conversation he was a part of, the hundred other snippets of chatter always overwhelmed him. He liked being home for bed time, he liked reading to his kids and tucking them in and getting them water when they stalled for five more minutes. He really hated switching weekends, Tanner and Penny liked their routines, they liked to know what was going to happen and when, and the separation had been hard enough on them without weekends changing. Still, he was trying to get back into everyone’s good graces. Hospital galas and fundraisers were a good way to do that. So here he was.
The hall they’d rented out was nice, white and gold table cloths on the rows of tables, electric candlestick center pieces, a checkerboard dance floor, complete with cheesy disco ball, a photo booth, a small stage backed with a screen for projection, a single microphone podium for any speakers that might give speeches. People milled around, chatting with friends, networking with wealthy donors, introducing people to each other, laughing. He caught snippets of each conversation he passed, and his eyes scanned through the crowd for any friendly face. He spotted Dana and her husband, beelining for the pair.
“Dana !” He spoke loudly, so she could hear him over the music and crowd.
“Oh, God. What do you want ?” She asked, exasperated already.
“Jeez,” He raised both hands defensively, “Just saying hi to my favorite charge nurse.” He laughed at the exaggerated eye roll she gave.
“Benji, this is Langdon.” She introduced her husband, a handsome man, tall and kind looking.
“Is she this mean to you, too, or is it just us at work ?” Langdon asked the man, who laughed.
“Dana ? Mean ?” He asked, a faux sound of shock in his voice, earning him an elbow to the ribs from Dana.
“Watch it, mister,” She said, though he wasn’t sure if it was directed at himself or her husband, “You go find someone else to bother, I’m trying to enjoy my night. I’m not talking to any one of you people.” She shooed him, grabbing a flute of champagne from a waiter walking past with a tray of them.
“You wound me, Dana,” He said, turning to leave.
“Yea, I’m gonna wound you, kid,” She laughed at him. He was glad she felt comfortable enough with him again to be blunt and abrasive. He wouldn’t take the dismissal personally. His eyes returned to scanning the crowd, as he retreated from Dana. Dr. Santos and Whitaker were here, and he hoped Garcia might be hanging around Santos, but the surgeon was nowhere to be seen. Probably for the best, as the ice between Santos and him was only just starting to thaw, and he really didn’t want to push himself on her too much. He said a quick hello to Dr. Al-Hashimi, who looked absolutely stunning in a red dress and her hair curling freely down her back, until he spotted both his favorite coworkers, conveniently in the same spot, chatting away.
“Donnie !” He said on approach, coming up behind Mel, placing a hand on her shoulder in greeting, “Mel !” He said, when she turned to face him. Her face lit up, as it tended to do upon seeing him. She had a way of making people feel welcome, like they were just the person she was waiting to see, and it made his heart pound every time. It wasn’t personal, he reminded himself frequently.
“Dr. Langdon !” She said, like his presence had personally made her night better. She looked stunning. Drop dead, old Hollywood, classically beautiful. Her hair fell softly down one shoulder, drawing the eye to her exposed clavicle, the sweetheart neckline of her dress making room for the dainty gold necklace around her throat. The light green dress complimented her skin tone well, so far as he could tell. Really, all he knew was that she looked stunning. Something was off, about her appearance, though, something was out of place as he looked between her and Donnie. It hit him quickly that she didn’t have her glasses on.
“Wow, Mel,” He said, smiling hard enough to hurt his cheeks, “You look fancy.” He said.
“Fancy ?” Donnie echoed, “She looks like a movie star.” He said, gesturing at her vaguely. Mel smiled, eyes locked on the floor, and a slight blush creeping onto her face.
“Fancy, it’s something we started saying with Penny. Abby wanted to make a point that she always looked pretty, with or without getting all done up.” He explained, “She looks fancy when she’s all done up, she’s pretty all the time.”
“Good to know.” Donnie said, nodding. It’d be a while before the distinction would matter for his daughter, but always better to start early.
“Anyway, Mel, you look beautiful, as always.” He amended, smiling at her. She really, really did. “Where are your glasses ?” He asked. She was squinting quite a bit.
“Uh,” She started, sounding sheepish, “In my bag.” She shrugged her shoulders, “I’ve been told I look much prettier without them on, and I don’t like contacts, so I just came without them,” She explained, hands moving around as she spoke, “I brought them, of course, in case of emergencies, but, uh…” She paused, hands stilling, “I’m flying blind.” She finished.
“You should put them on, you look very pretty with your glasses on, too.” He said.
“I was just telling Donnie. I had a whole conversation with Jesse, and then when we finished talking, I realized it was Dr. Abbot. I called him Jesse and he laughed.” She said, sounding embarrassed.
“Lucky it was Abbot, he’s got a good sense of humor about that kind of thing.” Langdon reassured her.
“Jesse’s got quite the shitlist, he might hold it against you. It was definitely the better way around.” Donnie said, laughing.
“Sometimes I think he doesn’t like me very much” She admitted.
“That’s just Jesse, he likes you more than Whitaker.” Donnie said.
“That’s a low bar.” Langdon chimed in,
“Hey, the kids growing on me,” Donnie defended Whitaker.
“He’s very empathetic. He’s a good doctor,” Mel said, “He’s on the street team, he really cares about helping people.”
“Don’t make me like him.” Langdon said, waving her words away. Mel smiled tentatively. He always liked when she smiled at him. Donnie reached for his phone in his pocket, as it began to buzz, he glanced down at the screen before excusing himself.
“I’m gonna step out, I gotta take this,” He said, raising the phone to his ear. Mel waved as he left, smiling after him. She really did look lovely. Almost unrecognizable without her signature braid and her glasses, out of her scrubs. Like an entirely different person.
“Would you want to walk around a bit ?” She asked, turning back to him. She’d opted to wear flats, providing even less height than her usual sneakers. She turned her face up to him, he smiled down at her, and offered her his arm. She took it, her small hand nestled in the crook of his elbow. They walked towards the crowd, moving almost aimlessly, meandering perhaps to find seats at the tables, or maybe someone else to chit chat with.
—-
“Don’t you two look nice,” Mohan said from behind them. Mel spun around to see the woman, who looked absolutely gorgeous in a navy blue gown, her hair pulled back into a sleek bun, besides two loose strands that fell down and framed her face.
“Not as nice as you, Dr. Mohan.” Mel said, embracing her friend quickly. She was glad she looked alright, everyone had commented how pretty she looked. It was a nice feeling, no matter how often she told herself she was above the pursuit of vanity.
“Nonsense. You look lovely. No glasses ?” She asked, to which Mel shrugged again.
“They didn’t fit with the dress, I didn’t think.” She explained.
“Can you see anything ?” Mohan asked, laughing. Langdon stepped forward, putting a hand gently on her shoulder. Mel had given up trying to puzzle out why she never minded his touch, the way she always seemed to mind others, she’d just accepted that she enjoyed it. She smiled up at him as he spoke.
“I’m playing guide dog, for the night.” He smiled down at her, offering her his elbow as he had before.
“Isn’t that sweet of you,” Mohan said, exchanging a look with him. Mel furrowed her brow, watching them, trying to figure out whatever silent conversation was going on.
“Mel,” Santos said, loudly and very close by. Mel jumped, losing any chance of figuring out what Mohan's glance had meant, “Tell Crash she’s wrong,” She said, appearing in front of them, with Javadi and Whitaker in tow.
“I am not wrong, Mel,” Javadi said, indignant.
“I think that she might be,” Whitaker interjected.
“About what ?” Mel asked. Once the three of them got going, it could be hard to get a word in edge wise. Mel was never sure why she was being brought in as tie breaker, but it happened semi frequently.
“Victoria, here, thinks that it's a ‘popular misconception,’ that peeing on a jellyfish sting helps.” She put finger quotes around the words, and Javadi rolled her eyes.
“It is a misconception, there isn’t actually enough ammonia in urine to help, it’s more likely to agitate whatever stingers are left in the wound.” She defended herself,
“Then why do so many people say it ?” Santos shot back,
“People say wrong things all the time,” Javadi answered,
“Someone with an accent definitely said it on the BBC.” Santos replied.
“My family vacations in Australia, I’ve actually been stung by a jellyfish,” Javadi fired off. This conversation was getting hard to follow, and Mel hadn’t said one word.
“Oh, sorry, not everyone’s family vacations in their summer home in Australia,” Santos replied, sarcasm dripping off every word. Whitaker caught Mel’s eye and made a face. The two really did wind each other up. The bickering was getting overwhelming, though, with the speed of their retorts getting quicker and quicker, their voices louder and louder. Mel knew they weren’t actually mad, per se, verbal sparring was their thing, and it wasn’t really fighting. Still, the energy was like a live wire, and with the pulse of the music, the noise of the crowd, it was all a bit much.
“Do you want to step outside ?” Langdon asked, a hand on her back, leaning down to speak closer to her ear. Sometimes she swore he could read her mind. It made her slightly paranoid, on occasion. She nodded, and he stepped away, herding her towards the bathrooms, finding the small side door quickly, her input in the conversation left unsaid. Mel didn’t know anything about jellyfish anyway.
When they stepped outside, the doors banging shut behind them, Mel took a slow, deep breath. The quiet was sudden, relief washing over her like a wave on the shore, a wave devoid of jellyfish, thankfully. It was cold, especially compared to the heat building up inside. The hall they’d rented wasn’t particularly large, and with so many bodies crammed into it, dancing and laughing, it was hot. The cool air felt nice against her balmy skin.
“You okay ?” Langdon asked, standing beside her.
“Do you think anyone would notice if I snuck out of here early ?” She asked, voice meek, as she wrapped her arms around herself.
“You have to at least stay for the food.” He smiled, “I hear it’s twice as good as the cafeteria,” He wore that faux earnest face, the one he used when he was making a joke.
“So it’s only terrible, as opposed to really awful.” She smiled. Really, the cafeteria food wasn’t half bad. Although, maybe it was just her limited palate that made her think that. Chicken tenders and fries had never done her wrong, though. If you were used to home cooked, fresh food, you might be more inclined to dislike it. Mel ended up eating something out of the microwave half the time, the freshest food she got was from the pizza place she frequented with Becca. Still, she knew the punchline he’d been expecting. She’d delivered.
“Just let me know,” He said, hands in the pockets of his pants, “When you sneak out of here. I’ll leave whenever you do.” He said, eyes scanning the sky above them. She liked when he avoided her eyes, he’d always been good at picking up what things overstimulated her, and very rarely added to the list of things that contributed. She liked looking at him, when he wasn’t looking at her. The way his blue eyes reflected the street lights, as they swept across the sky. She wasn’t sure what he was looking for, out there, she certainly didn’t see any stars. Either way, his eyes moved across the sky and his eyelashes were long and dark and he was so handsome. He looked dashing, in his suit, his hair pushed out of his face, he was beautiful, even without her glasses. He was blurred and hazy in the yellow streetlight, and he was beautiful. In an instant, his eyes found hers, and she looked away. She’d been ogling him, practically drooling. She felt her cheeks warm up, pinker than even the makeup she’d applied.
“Are you cold ?” He asked, pulling off his suit jacket before he’d even finished asking the question.
“Oh, no,” She said, stepping back. She wasn’t quick enough, and he was draping his suit jacket over her shoulders before she could adequately protest. He wrapped it around her, and she felt warm. Whether from the jacket or the heart pounding blood rush she was experiencing was anybody's guess. His hands hovered in front of her, as he held the jacket closed. They were standing so close she could see his breath, the small white puffs of air between them. Something flashed in his eyes, the glint of an airplane passing overhead, maybe, but it gave the impression he’d leaned in closer to her, lowered himself towards her. For the briefest of moments, Mel thought he might kiss her.
—-
“You seen Perlah ?” Princess asked, the door to inside banging open. She paused, when she noticed Mel, all wrapped up in his coat, the mere inches between them, and fuck. There goes any courage he’d built up. He stepped back, shrugging casually, like he hadn’t been seconds away from making the worst mistake of his life.
“Can’t say I have,” He answered, clearing his throat.
“No,” Mel said next to him.
“Okay.” She said, eyes flickering between the two of them. She slunk back inside, not another word, and he sighed.
“That’s great,” He ran his hands over his face.
“What is ?” Mel asked, looking delicate, tiny, his coat hanging off her shoulders. Somehow, it reminded him of a bird he’d found, when he was 8 or 9. It was just a fledging, all scruffy feathers and long limbs, broken against the concrete. Its mother had built a nest in a tree that overhung their driveway, and learning to fly was unforgiving. He’d scooped it up, cold and limp, into his hands, and ran to his mother. She’d wrapped it in newspaper and they buried it together.
“Nothing,” He said, looking away from her. He didn’t want to think about the baby bird. He didn’t like comparing Mel to it. It made her seem tragic.
“It’s not like there aren’t already rumors,” She shrugged. He looked down at her, trying to curb the alarm that was trying to overtake his features. He hadn’t heard any rumors at all. Not about himself, at least.
“There are ?” He asked, and he knew he was not doing a good job at playing it cool.
“Well, maybe not exactly…” She sounded unsure, and he didn’t want to push, but he did need to know exactly what she’d heard, and from who. “I mean, Santos seems to think the only reason you’re nice to me at all is because you’re, uh,” She hesitated, letting the suit jacket open again, her arms poking out to do air quotes, “Trying to get in my pants,” She emphasized the air quotes, not her own words.
“Ah,” He said. If that’s what she’d heard, that wasn’t too bad. He was nervous Donnie had let something slip. Not that he’d ever spoken the words aloud to Donnie, but still. He spent enough time staring wistfully after her for Donnie to notice.
“People are weird about men and women being friends,” She said, and he nodded.
“Yeah,” He agreed. He was glad he didn’t kiss her. She was his friend. Kissing her would’ve been weird, it would’ve crossed the ‘friend’ boundary and made everything awkward. He liked having her as a friend, and as much as he could sometimes delude himself into thinking she maybe wanted more, she didn’t. And he didn’t need more, either. He was happy to have her in his life, just like this. He liked calling her when he got home, as if he hadn’t just spent a 12 hour shift with her, he liked that they never ran out of things to talk about, he liked her. If Princess hadn’t interrupted, if he’d leaned in and kissed her, and she’d politely rejected him and gone back inside and they’d done that strange dance of dwindling replies over the phone and conversations that fizzled out and never got picked back up, if he’d lost her because of one stupid, impulsive kiss, he didn’t know what he’d do.
“Hey,” She said, leaning into him, head resting not quite, but almost on his shoulder.
“Hey,” He said, glancing down at her. She was pink, the cold making her cheeks rosy, despite the jacket.
“We should probably go back inside,” She said, leaning against him for a moment more, before standing.
“I don’t wanna,” He pouted, frowning dramatically. She smiled, and his heart thumped in his chest. She really was pretty, even on hour 14 of a 12 hour shift, when her hair was escaping its braid and she was flushed and exhausted, lips dry and cracked and skin pale, he thought she was pretty. Now, with makeup and a dress and her hair, he didn’t stand a chance. She pulled his jacket off of her shoulders, reaching out to hand it to him. He took it, throwing it back on, and offered her his arm. She took it, her hand finding its spot in the crook of his elbow once again.
—-
Mel felt Santos' eyes on her the moment they walked back inside. Certainly Princess had shared whatever she thought she saw with her. They really were such awful gossips. It didn’t bother her, though. She clutched Langdon’s arm, pulling a little closer to him as they walked. She wasn’t sure entirely where he was leading her, but she was happy to follow his lead, anyway. Eventually they found a table, and he took his suit jacket off to drape over one chair, effectively claiming the spot. They sat, and Mel watched as people moved all around them. She watched Mohan laugh at a joke, Santos and Javadi arguing, people she didn’t recognize, either because they’d never met or because she didn’t have her glasses on, who could say. She watched people dancing on the dance floor, the broken up reflective lights bouncing off the disco ball, glinting this way and that. They’d only sat to claim a spot, food hadn’t been served yet, but it felt nice to sit.
“I like people watching,” She said, leaning closer to Langdon so he could hear her.
“Me too,” He replied, turning towards her.
“It’s always very interesting to watch people in big social settings,” She mused, watching a woman pretend to drop something, the man she was talking to stoop to pick it up. He hummed his agreement.
“I’m going to grab a water,” Langdon said, as he stood, “You want ?” He asked, glancing down at her.
“No thank you,” She said, shaking her head. She sat, watching the people, the way they all seemed to effortlessly understand the social cues the others were giving. She watched people introducing themselves, introducing each other, talking and laughing and joking, no one seemed to feel out of place, no one seemed lost in the way she always did. She wondered how obvious it was, when she felt it, to an outsider. She always felt glaringly obvious, like she had a neon sign strapped to her back, with a big obnoxious arrow pointing down at her, the words ‘Does Not Belong’ flashing in bright letters. No one here wore a neon sign, but maybe it just didn’t look as big as it felt. Maybe they felt it, too. Or maybe it was just her.
“I know you said you were okay,” Langdon said, as he returned, “But I figured you’d want one eventually.” He placed a water bottle in front of her, “Figured I’d save you the trip.” He sat next to her, his own water bottle in hand.
“Thank you,” She said. She hadn’t been thirsty until she saw the water. She cracked it open, taking a sip.
“Dr. Langdon.” Someone said from behind them, Garcia. She looked very nice, in a simple silver gown, her hair and makeup not much different from how she wore it at work.
“Hey YoYo,” He smiled, standing up to greet her.
“I’m avoiding Trinity, figured you were pretty good repellent.” She said, taking a seat across from them.
“Why are you avoiding her ?” Mel asked. She knew their relationship was… complicated. She usually didn’t even try to understand it, anymore.
“I don’t think I should tell you.” She stated. Mel wasn’t the biggest fan of Garcia, her dry humor and sarcasm always biting just on the edge of mean, if not outrightly so. Garcia made the neon sign light up, ‘Does not Belong’ was always flashing on Mel’s back, talking to her. It was unfortunate, given Langdon’s friendship with her.
“Well, you can hide out here if you need,” He settled back into his chair, his arm draping over the back of Mel’s. “Or you could go dance with your girlfriend,” He said, eyes finding Santos on the dance floor.
“Oh, please. She isn’t my girlfriend.” Garcia rolled her eyes, “She’s sleeping with me because she thinks it’ll get her into surgery.” She said. Mel frowned.
“I don’t think so,” She said, defending Santos. It’s possibly she’d missed that context, in their befuddling relationship, but from what Mel knew of Santos, that’s not what was happening.
“Oh, little miss sunshine here thinks we’re gonna fall in love and get married, big surprise,” Garcia quipped.
“I didn’t say that,” Mel said. She didn’t know why people thought of her that way, sure, she was optimistic, sure, she tried not to get down and out about the little things, but ‘Little Miss Sunshine’ was a bit much.
“I just think she likes you more than she lets on,” She said. She was trying not to back down, this is just how Garcia spoke, she wasn’t upset with Mel, it’s just how she talks.
“Oh Yea ?” Garcia leaned against the table, propping her chin in her hand.
“I agree with Mel,” Langdon said, offhandedly.
“Of course you do, ever since you started therapy it’s been like Mr. and Mrs. Sunshine.” She sat back, looking between the two of them.
“That’s Dr. and Dr. Sunshine, to you.” He said, and Garcia rolled her eyes dramatically.
“I sat here to avoid Trinity, not dissect my relationship with her.” She bemoaned.
“You know, I think some self reflection could be very beneficial to your life.” He said, nodding solemnly. He laughed as she stood. “I know a great therapist I could recommend for you,” He spoke quickly as Garcia retreated, “If you ever want to talk,” He shouted after her, clearly amused with himself. She wandered off, pointedly avoiding Santos, who seemed to be having a very good time despite Garcia, dancing with Whitaker. She watched Whitaker spin under Santos arm, the two laughing together.
“Do you want to dance ?” Langdon said, apparently following her eye line.
“Oh, no,” Mel shook her head. The careless joy Santos was exhibiting seemed freeing, and perhaps caused by the buzz of champagne, and completely unreachable to Mel, “I’m not a good dancer,” She shrugged.
“Mel,” He said, leaning towards her, turning his whole body to the side, “I’m going to go make a fool of myself on the dance floor,” The eye contact he was making right now was intense, unavoidable, unblinking, “I would like you to come with me.” He said.
“Okay,” She nodded. What else could she say, Langdon was asking her to dance.
“Really ?” He asked, like he couldn’t believe his luck. She really couldn’t believe she was saying it either. He stood, pulling her after him, like he was scared if he gave her enough time, she’d change her mind.
—-
He could tell he was sweating, the hall only getting hotter as the night went on, and dancing wasn’t helping. Even without the suit jacket, which was still hanging on the back of their chairs, he was hot. He went so far as to roll up the sleeves on his button up, but even that only offered minimal help. It was worth it, though, to see Mel smiling at him like this. The music was loud on the dance floor, the speakers positioned purposefully to make it so. He couldn’t hear himself think, which was also, probably, on purpose. He knew he looked silly, he was not a dancer, and all of his dance moves lately had been practiced in the living room with the kids. Lots of gangly, flailing limbs and jumping up and down. He’d toned it down, now, since there was much more of an audience than usual, but Mel didn’t seem to mind. Her hand had remained firmly in his, as they jumped and spun around. She was red in the face, splotchy and pink down her neck and her chest, sweating just as much as he was, laughing all the while. He pulled her closer, spinning her under his arm, and her dress and hair spun out around her, the pale green fabric reminiscent of a crashing wave. The pair of them looked goofy, absolutely down right absurd, but no one could doubt they were having fun.
It was one of his favorite things about Mel, the genuine authenticity with which she seemed to do everything. It had drawn him to her immediately, her sincerity. She had been everything he wasn’t, that first day they met, steady and sincere, offering easy vulnerability in things he wouldn’t have admitted to anyone. She’d thrown him off hand comments about how frustrated she got when she couldn’t do things, how it sometimes made her cry, and he’d thought, cynically, that she was fishing for praise. He gave it, of course, she’d earned it, but it hadn’t registered to him, then, that it was an admittance made without ulterior motive.
He still wouldn’t admit this to anyone, but when he tried to be a better person, she was usually the first to come to mind. When tasked with a moral dilemma, the question he asked himself: What Would Mel do ? Not only was she the person he modeled his good behavior on, she was also the person he wanted to be better for. For whatever reason, she wanted him. Not in that way, not in the way he wanted her, but still. She wanted him in her life, she’d stood by him, steadfast in her choice. Her faith in him was unwavering, and he wanted to deserve it. He wanted to deserve this, being the man who spun her around the dance floor, who she gave her smiles to so freely, whose jacket she wore when her dress left her cold.
She said something, as the spinning died down, that he couldn’t catch over the booming bass of the music.
“What ?” He shouted back, leaning closer, watching her lips, trying to make out her words.
“Water !” She shouted, and he nodded. They made their way back to their table. She all but fell into her seat, and he followed suit. He wiped the sweat off his brow, and ran his fingers through his hair, pulling it off his face. He finished the bottle of water he’d started before dancing, chugging it like he was at a frat party.
“That was fun !” Mel said, sounding chipper.
“It was cardio,” He responded, hand splayed out across his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart.
“More fun than going for a jog, though,” She said.
“Not as fun as sex,” He responded, without thinking. He made it weird. “What time is it ?” He asked, trying to ignore his previous comment. Mel turned to dig into her bag, draped over the back of her chair, pulling out her phone.
“7:00 O’clock.” She answered, “On the dot.”
“Good, almost time for food,” He said, glancing around. Everyone else must’ve gotten the memo, because the people dancing filtered off the dance floor and into seats.
“It’s all fish,” Mel said, glancing at the small paper menu on the table. He glanced down at it as well. Lemon butter Halibut, herb crusted salmon, and crab cakes. The only three options listed.
“Not a fan ?” He asked. It all sounded pretty good to him, but he knew Mel was on the pickier side. She crinkled her nose, shaking her head.
“I don’t like fish.” She said. “It’s too soft, the texture is wrong for meat.” Her eyes went over the words on the menu, again and again, like she could will them to say something other than what they said.
“Hey,” He said, thinking. They’d shown up, everyone had seen them, they didn’t have to stay any longer, really. They’d both fulfilled their promise of coming. “Wanna sneak out ?” He asked.
“Really ?” She asked, eyes lighting up.
“Yea, let’s get out of here before the foods out,” He said, gathering his things. She did the same, and when they stood, they tried to be discreet. They were close enough to the exit they had a real shot at making it out unnoticed. He guided Mel through the aisle between their table and the one next to it, hand hovering just over her skin. They were close to the door, looking inconspicuous, no one would know they ducked out early.
Except for Santos, who he happened to make direct eye contact with, where she sat at her table. She’d been watching them go, and when he looked up, their eyes met. He couldn’t help feeling slightly caught, as his eyes flicked away. Whatever, she’d caught him doing far worse. They made it out to the hallway, and just needed to follow it out to the main entrance of the hall, where his car was parked.
“We should get some real food,” He offered, hoping to extend their time together.
“Yes, that sounds nice.” She agreed quickly, “There’s an Applebee's down the road, I think,” She suggested.
“That sounds great.” He dropped his hand, when he realized it was still pressed against her back. They stepped outside, the cool air refreshing. He handed Mel his jacket, watching as she draped it over her shoulders once again. She smiled at him, her cheeks pink, her eyes averted. He tried not to think about what Princess and Santos would come up with, the big picture they’d put together with their individual pieces. Between Princess interrupting them outside, and Santos watching them leave together, the rumors would be salacious, at best. With their luck, they’d run into Perlah at the restaurant. He didn’t mind, though, really. Again, he’d been accused of, and guilty of, a lot worse. Sneaking around with Mel felt good, like teenagers skipping school, it was innocent, good natured fun. That’s all it needed to be.
—-
Back in her wild teenage days there was a boy in her English class. He was handsome, all dark hair and blue eyes, just as awkward as she was. He was the first kid she knew to get their license, and one day, he told her he was skipping English. Their class was reading Macbeth, and the both of them were well versed in Shakespeare. They could afford to miss a day of in class reading, in which the role of Macbeth was butchered by a boy who could barely read. He asked her to come along, and during the four minute window between classes, they’d ducked out a side door, through the grass, and jumped into his car in student parking. Her heart had been pounding, from the adrenaline coursing through her as well as the sprint to his car. They’d gone to a local park and sat on the swings, enjoying the beautiful weather. She remembered him fondly, since he was the closest thing to a boyfriend she ever had. He’d never gotten up the courage to actually ask her out, and she’d never pushed it. They graduated as friends and went their separate ways.
Sneaking out with Langdon felt kind of like that. Exhilarating. She wasn’t going to dwell on the romantic connotations of the connection, because it was unrelated. Sure, it might feel the same, but it wasn’t. She was slightly touched by the fact that Langdon had offered to leave and get food somewhere else. She would’ve stayed, toughed it out and pushed some halibut around her plate, pretending to eat, but Langdon knew she didn’t like fish. She was really glad, because she liked spending time with him, especially outside of the hospital. She was certain she was his favorite coworker, his best friend at work, but she wanted their friendship to extend outside the hospital walls. It did, on occasion, but she wanted to make it more regular. She wanted to spend every waking moment with him, she wanted to live in his house and sleep in his bed and wear his clothes, but that was neither here nor there. She was getting her wish tonight, at least of spending more one on one time outside of work. She probably wouldn’t be moving in with him anytime soon, but she could live with that.
When they stopped at a red light, Langdon looked at her. He didn’t say anything, just staring at her, eyes dark and intense and focused on her face.
“What ?” She asked, nervous. It was disconcerting.
“Put your glasses on,” He said, the light turning green, his eyes back on the road. His voice was flat and toneless, and she really couldn’t make out what he meant by it. Obviously, he wanted her to put her glasses on, but she’d learned that a lot of times, what people said was only the first layer of an interaction. She had no idea what was lying under those words.
Sometimes, interacting with people felt like exploring the wilderness had when she was a child. She’d roam the woods that lie behind her backyard, lifting rotten logs and large rocks, checking out the bugs that lived underneath. When she was 9 years old, she’d lifted a large swath of tree bark, and heard the heart stopping sound of a snake hissing. The largest snake she’d ever seen, brown and tan hourglass scales, her mother had warned her never to touch. A copperhead. She’d dropped the bark, turning tail and running, faster than she’d ever ran, up the porch steps and into her house. She’d been hoping for a ladybug, or a rollypolly.
That’s what Langdon’s remark felt like. She had no idea what to expect underneath the surface level words. She could usually read him so well, and he’d never given her a snake before. Conversations with him were always ladybugs. Maybe it was just the old habits formed in middle school, any interaction she didn’t understand signaling danger. She dug through her bag, finding the soft pouch that contained her glasses, putting them on quickly and glancing over at him. She didn’t really understand why it mattered to him. She saw him glance at her, quickly, before pulling his eyes back to the road.
“You look pretty,” He said, glancing into his rear view mirror, checking his side mirror, looking anywhere but at her. She was blushing, feeling butterflies in her stomach, where there’d just been a snake coiled tightly.
“Thank you.” She said, watching the trees fly past on the side of the road. “You look good, too. I meant to say that earlier, and I didn’t.” She admitted. She’d said it to Donnie, when she’d seen him, before Langdon had found her. She’d thought it at least a thousand times already, she just hadn’t said it out loud. He didn’t respond to the compliment, but he smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. He really was so handsome. It could kill her faster than a snakebite.
“You know, I used to go out to college parties and pull all nighters,” He said, stifling a yawn, “Now if I'm not at work I'm in bed by 9:30,” He ran his hands through his hair, a few pieces falling down over his forehead, “I’m like an old man.” He crinkled his nose.
“My dad used to say I was born old.” She said, pushing her glasses more securely up her nose, “I never went out late or broke curfew,” She admitted. He glanced at her side long.
“Not a party animal ?” He asked, and she could tell he was being sarcastic. She had just made them duck out of a work party at 7:00 pm.
“I didn’t even go to my high school prom.” She shook her head, denying any and all claims of being a party animal.
“You didn’t go to prom ?” He asked, incredulous.
“No, it was expensive, and probably loud, and no one asked me, so. I skipped it.” She shrugged. Everyone always acted like prom was some big deal, but she’d gone to a homecoming dance in her freshman year, and that had been an entirely underwhelming and overstimulating night. She hadn’t been eager to repeat it.
“Yea, my prom sucked. I didn’t have fun.” He said, shrugging with his lips, the corners of them pulling down dramatically. The pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, and Langdon parked the car. It was dark out, the dim lights glowing out of the windows and from street lights above the only illumination around. She felt calm. She’d expected tonight to consist of powering through overstimulation, pretending she was having fun. She hadn’t anticipated actually having fun.
“I had fun tonight,” She told him.
“Yea.” He said, looking over at her, smiling soft and fond before casting his eyes downwards. “I had fun, too.”