7. Shortie

7

SHORTIE

KID ON CHRISTMAS, PENTATONIX FT. MEGHAN TRAINOR

Livie

Me: Do you have plans today?

Alex: Hello to you too.

Alex: No, I don’t.

Me: Want to come read to children?

Alex: No, not really.

Me: It’ll be fun.

Alex: Would it make me an asshole if I say I don’t like kids?

Me: Yes

Me: I mean, no it won’t make you an asshole. It would just make me really sad

Me: Like really, really sad

Me: So sad

Alex: Fine, I like them but they don’t like me

Me: My kids will love you. Just come to the hospital this afternoon. It’ll be good and we can talk more about your crazy plan

Alex: You already said yes

Me: Yeah well, we have 9 days before Christmas which means there are 8 days before the dinner for me to learn everything about you so my mother doesn’t suspect anything and 8 days for me to convince the world you’re not an asshole

Alex: Maybe I am

Me: FML

Me: You’re not obvs

Me: I’m here until 6:00. Come read to the children and I might even let you take me to dinner

Alex: Are you asking me out, Liv?

Me: No, I’m telling you you’re taking me out.

Alex: Fine, what should I bring?

Me: Yourself, an open mind and a smile. I have a book here.

Alex: See you in an hour

Me: Deal

“Why are you bouncing around more than normal, Livie?” Cassie, the head nurse asks. With her short blonde bob, her pretty blue eyes and the soft smile she wears 90% of the time, Cassie is the definition of a hug in human form. The best friend everyone wished they had, and the mom so many kids wished they could call hers. But we all just call her Nurse Cass around here. She’s everyone’s favorite nurse and one of my closest friends.

“You’re just jealous I’m always in a good mood and you’re not.”

“I am always in a good mood,” she replies, adding some papers to her clipboard and placing it under her desk.

“No, you always look like you’re in a good mood when in reality, you just hide all your anger behind the hospital mom look you’re sporting.”

“I can let my anger out on stupid diseases taking the life of children, not on humans I love. All that anger you see behind my eyes? Are for things I cannot change. However, the usual tornado you live in is a lot wilder today. You’ve been singing and swirling as you go. More than usual that is. You even smiled at Miles.”

Miles is the jerk resident on rounds tonight. He acts like he’s all that and a bag of chips when he’s not and we fucking hate him. But nothing can sour my mood today. I’m seriously considering telling her all about Alex and our deal, but we promised to keep it between us. Am I really this giddy about seeing him again? I saw him yesterday and the day before—hell, I just met the guy. But he’s a funny, almost grumpy gentleman who looks like Thor and talks like he has more than half a neuron. I’m positive my body doesn’t know what to do with those feelings.

“Hello! Earth to Livie,” Cassie calls, waving her hand in front of me, pulling me back to reality.

“Okay, okay, do you really want to know?” I ask, laying myself across her desk and smiling at her like an idiot.

“Yes. Dear lord, child, please tell me you didn’t sleep with Fred.”

“Frank,” I say in between a snort and a laugh. “Nah, the only reason I told you I was going out with him was just so that, in case you didn’t hear from me, you could come to my rescue and kill him.”

“Then what is it?!” she shouts. But before I can answer, there’s a deep voice coughing near us. We both look and there, standing dressed in dark denim jeans and a navy-blue Henley that makes his eyes look lighter, is Alex. He has his hand in his pocket, the other holding a coffee and a shy smile on his lips that also suits him just fine.

“How can I help you?” Cassie asks, smiling at him and going into Nurse Cassie mode. Zero games—just pure work.

“I’m here to see the kids and umm… Livie.” He points at me and Cassie’s head snaps my way.

“I got it, Cass.” I look up and smile at Alex, forgetting how tall he is until I’m standing right in front of him and he needs to make a conscious effort looking down to meet my eyes. I tuck a strand of my wavy hair behind my ear. “Hey, Alex.”

“Hey Shortie,” he whispers, only for me to hear, with his mischievous smile and his wintery scent. He smells like a bakery on a cold Christmas day—sweet, warm and spicy.

“Shortie?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Testing it out. See if it fits. It does, doesn’t it? ”

“Maybe…but don’t call me that in front of the kids.”

“What should I call you?”

“Ms. Livie. Come on, let’s get you checked in.”

My hospital ID badge feels cold against my skin as I pull it up and down, fidgeting with it while walking Alex few feet down to the registration desk. “So, this is it,” I explain, my voice a little higher than usual. The children’s wing lobby buzzes with a low hum—the soft cries of babies, hushed parental whispers, and the squeak of a gurney disappearing around a corner. The open floor plan of this hospital makes it really easy to find things but really hard to find calm, peace and quiet.

He grunts, his gaze glued to the floor. “Peachy,” he mumbles, looking around and fidgeting with his hands.

I sigh. “Look, it’s just kids. It will be fine. They will love you and—” I say, getting closer and looking up at him “—I have a plan.”

We approach the volunteer desk and tell Rosalie, the registrar, that Alex is here to volunteer today. “Welcome, Alex! Have you filled out the paperwork online?” she asks with a bright smile.

He shakes his head. “I… uh… no not really.” He looks sheepish for a split second. Nothing like the confident man I’ve met these past three days.

Rosalie chuckles. “No worries, it happens. We have copies here. Just need your name, address, and emergency contact…” She explains the process, and I watch as Alex, despite his initial reluctance, begins to engage with her. By the time the paperwork is done, their conversation is over as well, and Rosalie is flushed and laughing so loud. It seems like she’s working overtime.

She’s flipping her hair and batting her eyelashes at him, on top of giggling like a schoolgirl. I don’t blame her; she’s young and he is… well, hot as sin, and nice. I narrow my eyes at her and when she notices, she coughs slightly and goes back to her paperwork.

“Come on, Alex, let’s go see the children.”

He waves goodbye to her, walking side by side with me until we make it to the double doors with the key fob ready for me to scan my badge.

“Ms. Livie!” I hear some of the children shout loudly as soon as they see me. Lisa is jumping on her rolling bed, waving frantically and holding zero back as usual, and Laurie already has a pile of books on the table next to her. I told her earlier today I was going to bring a friend by and to meet me in the children’s area with some books. She’s also a child, but if I were to remind her that, she would come for my head. Laurie is twelve and is currently here for rehab after a transplant. She hates everything and everyone in a true twelve-year-old fashion, but not me. She adores me and I’m running with it.

“Hello, my little sugarplums! Who’s ready for some stories?” I ask, making a drumroll on my lap and they all join in. I started story time a few years ago when one of the little ones here for long-term care was sad her parents couldn’t read to her as energetically as her teacher had. Even though she was in a hospital homebound school, she still wanted an in-person read-aloud. I started reading to her, sometimes dressing up and sometimes just showing up--and the word spread. Soon I had a bunch of kids parked outside of her room waiting for me each day, so we moved it to the media center and the rest is history. I won’t give up my Sunday shifts for anything.

“Today, I have a special guest for you. This is my friend Alex and he’s here to read you a wonderful story. He’s a little nervous, so make sure you make him feel welcome,” I say.

“Ms. Livie?” Lisa asks with her beautiful bold head and her bright blue eyes.

“Yes, sweetie?”

“Is he a BFG?” she asks and I look at her with a puzzled look. “You know,” she insists, “the Big Friendly Giant?”

I can’t stop the laughter that bubbles from deep within me and reverberates through my bones. I look up at Alex—who is currently red as tomato– but he’s laughing too. His shoulders are relaxing and his eyes softening.

I plan on intervening and saying something nice to divert attention, but Alex beats me to it and says, “I’m not a giant but I’m friendly enough. Ms. Livie tells me you guys love stories. Now I can’t promise I’ll be as entertaining as her but I can try. Where should I sit?”

The kids all laugh and smile at him. He’s a natural, I think to myself as I point to where I usually sit to read and he takes the spot. He looks ridiculous. Good, but ridiculous; with his broad shoulders, his long legs spilling from the bench like spider legs, and how giant he looks next to the rest of the children gathered around him. I suppress a laugh because what else can I do?

He looks around until he finds me and smiles softly at me, shrugging. I smile back and point at the pile of books Laurie gathered. They’re all Christmas books and I can’t wait to see which one he picks.

He opens one of my favorites and, after taking a deep breath in and shutting his eyes for a split second, he starts reading. His voice is shaky at first but as he continues reading, he starts changing his cadence with the story and characters. He grows more confident with each page. The children are enthralled and the room is completely quiet, other than by the echo of his voice. I grab my phone and snap a picture, tagging him—I found him online last night after our whole ‘Christmas deal’ conversation— and the hospital on social media with the caption Tackling tales and scoring smiles. I slide my phone into the pocket of my hot pink scrubs and sit on the ground next to Laurie.

“Your friend, huh?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows at me.

I roll my eyes dramatically. “Oh hush, child, yes. He’s my friend. Now listen to the story.”

“It’s for babies,” she whispers.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I love this one.”

“You’re just a big baby Ms. Livie.” She smiles at me but then stops talking, turning her face to Alex and listening to the story.