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Baran had not learned how to stop staring at Trinity Santos’ lips.
Pretty and pink. A little pouty.
Santos was mouthy and brash, and while she was smart enough to keep it contained around Baran, she wasn’t so keen on fixing her face. She’d frown or purse her lips, and every time she did, Baran would stare.
She’d catch a quick glimpse of Santos passing by and all she’d see were her lips. Lips caught in between her teeth, lips smushed together in thought, lips moistened with a quick swipe of her tongue. Chapped lips, bitten lips, smiling lips, smirking lips, and, if she was lucky, lips freshly touched with a little pot of Aquaphor.
And then she noticed her shoulder blades, sharp and strong. Her languid and confident gait, how her eyes darted from side to side when she was nervous, and how she stiffened when Baran came near.
(Sometimes, just to watch Santos squirm, she leans into the flattery a little. But that’s between her and the smirk she tucks behind her teeth).
-
Late at night, when her want becomes monstrous, Santos would be all she thought about. Lips and pale skin and green eyes.
Details, like the barely there wrinkle on her cheek from her smirk, or the strands of hair that would escape her half-up at the end of shifts.
One very late night in the midst of these thoughts, her phone vibrated, lit up, and chimed. Her heart skipped a beat when she read Trinity's name on the screen.
“Hello?”
“Dr. Al-Hashimi, yes. It’s Santos. Trinity, Santos, I uhm. I’m so sorry I’m calling this late but… I just.” Her words are breathy, rushed, and slick.
Baran hears Santos take a very deep and shaky breath, and her brows furrowed intensely. She sat up from her bed, barely noticing the chill in the air from her blankets falling off her body.
“I am…” Santos grumbles and takes another breath, “Do you think you could pick me up?”
Baran blinks several times as she processes and shakes her head. Quickly, she checks the time, barely registering Santos’ tinny voice from the phone’s speaker.
“I don’t want to ask Whitaker, and I can’t ask Javadi… If you can’t–”
“Where are you?” Baran interrupts.
“I’m at a bar.”
Baran starts slipping on a jacket, “The one by PTMC?” Trinity confirmed with a pitiful hum. “Shouldn’t take me longer than twenty minutes then. Are you safe? Will you be okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be fine.”
Santos’ words sounded thick, and Baran felt her heart kick up.
“Stay on the line with me.”
-
Baran was fond of Trinity.
It carried some caveats.
Professionally, she was fond of all her staff, but Trinity grew on her the quickest. She was prickly at best and you really had to catch her in the right mood, but Baran noticed more than a couple of times where the big bad Trinity Santos softened.
It was intrinsic and genuine. Awkward and gawky and a touch graceful.
Most of her infatuation bloomed from a few soft seconds where Dr. Santos approached her towards the end of a grueling shift. She had shuffled over and stood next to Baran at the hub, so ridiculously stiff it was comical, and she looked at the floor when Baran turned. She then put her hands in her pockets and rocked on her heels before clearing her throat.
“You okay? You seem a little… ” Trinity frowned and shrugged. “It’s been a day.”
Baran smiled, small and tired, and her chest warmed, “Nothing a shower and some sleep won’t cure. Thank you, Dr. Santos.”
Trinity grimaced and nodded before spinning off her heel and walking away with her hands tucked behind her back, and Baran had thought about that short moment for the rest of the week.
This Trinity, the one over the phone, wasn’t soft like that Trinity had been.
She made small talk, for which Baran was very thankful, but it lacked her usual chutzpah. She was quiet and subdued, and she told Baran about her shift earlier that day monotonously; the energy drink she stopped on her way for, the bag of chips that got stuck in the vending machine.
It all sounded hollow. Rehearsed, even, and it sorely lacked her dramatics. She was detached, her head in another place, that much was obvious. Whether it was the drink or something else was beyond Baran.
When she arrived, she rolled down the window of her car and waved until Santos caught sight of her. She was leaning on the railings of the bar’s patio with a cigarette burning idly between pinched fingers. She crushed the rest of it against the fence, dropped it in an ashtray, and made her way to Baran’s car.
She was very pretty, even for still being in her scrubs. She had taken her hair down and put a jacket on. Dark rings circled her eyes and reminded Baran of her own.
Baran unlocked her doors and turned the overhead light on for Santos, who climbed in with a bit of effort.
“Thank you for this.” Santos said softly. Her breath smelled sweetly of alcohol, and Baran’s mouth watered.
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you told me you needed help.” Baran said, watching the other woman get situated.
Santos’ fingers were uncooperative and fumbled with the seatbelt. Her shoulders were tense and her jaw was clenched. Her lips were shiny and wet. Baran tore her gaze away and gripped the steering wheel.
“Are you hungry?”
-
Baran was starving.
Starved for touch, for food, for company, it all bled into one big mass of emptiness where her sanity should’ve been.
Tonight, a Sante Fe skillet would have to do.
“So… You were in a… situationship? With Dr. Garcia.”
“Yup.”
“Okay. And then you called it off because…?”
“Because she kept playing in my face.”
Baran tamped down a smile, but guessing by the way Trinity smirked, she didn’t bite it back fast enough.
“Right. Well. Even if you feel awful now, later you’ll be thankful you ended it.”
Trinity groaned and put her face in her hands.
“But it’s not later, that’s the whole thing!”
Baran nodded and picked around her plate, prompting Santos to continue her tirade.
“It’s not later! Everything is still fresh and new, and I only have like, maybe two more friends and they’re both my coworkers!”
Santos’ head thunked on the table and rattled their cups of water, “I’m alone and a loser and I’m piss drunk and eating at a Denny’s with my boss.”
“You’re a loser with a stable job and an education. You have your own place and a car. You’re kind and empathetic and plenty intelligent.” Baran paused and put her hand on Santos’ knee. “People like you at work, you know. You’re charming.”
Santos lifted her head up and rested it on her hands. Her cheeks were flushed and she refused to look Baran in the eye.
She wiggled Santos' knee playfully, “And, for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a loser, Santos.”
Santos mumbled a small thanks and sniffled a little, her eyes watery and her brows forming fierce elevens. Baran gave her the grace of not pointing it out and finished off her food.
“Garcia is a little bit weird anyways. Have you ever noticed that the rims on her car are scratched? Not a good driver.”
Trinity barked out a laugh and gathered herself for a moment.
“Yeah, she murdered a few curbs. She had an awful habit of queueing songs and driving? Once she swerved real bad and I thought that I was going to die because of a Karol G song.”
“There’s another positive, you’ve lessened your chances of death by some.” Baran deadpanned.
She smiled and pressed her foot against Baran’s beneath the table. Trinity nodded, “Right, of course.”
Baran watched her swirl her milkshake with her fries. The condensation on the glass was slowly dripping onto the table and coated Trinity's fingers with water. The moment reminded her of her son. Of having to wait for the boy to finish his food because he would get carried away with tirades of his own.
“Trinity…” Baran searched for the proper words, ones that wouldn’t scare her away but none came, and her voice trailed off.
Uselessness sat stale on her tongue.
She met Trinity’s eyes and searched them, as if she could reach her and heal her from a simple stare. She couldn’t see much past the glaze of alcohol, but she hoped Trinity understood that she had people in her corner. She had Baran in her corner, professionalism be damned.
The waitress came by with the check. The finality of the moment hammered in like a nail.
-
Baran had Trinity’s address pulled up on her phone. The bright light was bothersome and irritating, a clear and loud standout from the dim glow of the dash and the passing street lights. Trinity’s gaze was fixed on the ceiling. She’d doze for a bit and then jerk awake, and Baran felt it land hard and punchy in her chest each time.
She was assuming and compartmentalizing and she hated it. She hated how she couldn’t let herself feel betrayed by Trinity’s mistrust. She hated how she couldn’t decenter herself in a moment that was clearly not about her. She hated that she automatically thought the worst about a person she barely knew.
When she arrived at Trinity’s apartment, all she could think about was how empty and big her bed was going to seem when she crawled back in.
“Trinity.”
Trinity cleared her throat and sat up straight.
“Are you going to be okay tonight?”
Most of all, she hated that she wanted to stay next to Trinity. She hated how she wanted to offer Trinity her guest room. She hated that she wanted Trinity to say no, that she’d actually prefer for Baran to stay the night.
It was desperate and wanting. The ache in her chest and the need in her hands and the words resting on her tongue were traitorous yet too honest.
“I’ll be fine.” Trinity unbuckled her seatbelt and grimaced. “Thank you for all of this.”
The car door opening and closing was deafening even though the radio played softly.
She watched Trinity slip through the gate of her apartment complex and sighed. Her body felt tons heavier than it did just thirty minutes ago.
Resigned, she pulled away and headed home.