Yearn by A. Ellis (story books for 5 year olds .txt) 📗

Cruz cocked his head. “For an EMT? So, it’s true that paramedics look down on EMTs?”

I huffed and started to protest, but stopped and shrugged. “It’s not on purpose and it’s not directed at Dre. Paramedics have done a lot more schooling and training, I guess it goes to our heads. But, no, Dre is good—of all the shit I don’t like about him, I can admit that he’s probably one of the best. I’ve not worked with him until this point, but I know he gets top-notch reviews and the crew respects him.”

“You just don’t want to be his partner.” Logan tossed his water bottle into the recycling bin.

“Understatement of the year,” I grumbled. “It’s bad enough having to share a room with him here. Now we’ll be assigned to the same bunk room at the station and ride together.” I ran a hand over his face. “Which means he’ll be driving and I hate it.”

“He drives because he’s the EMT?” Jesse asked.

I nodded. “I don’t particularly like riding anyway, but knowing he’s hauling my ass around just irks me.”

Cruz studied me for a moment. “What is it you dislike about him so much?”

Gritting my teeth, I weighed my answer. Part of me wanted to tell them all to go fuck themselves because it wasn’t their business. But I wanted to move on from being that standoffish prick Blaine had turned me into, so I took a breath and opted to think of these men as friends. Friends talked, right?

“He was just that annoying younger guy when I met him. Spoiled, rich, know-it-all, ya know?” I toyed with the lid of my water bottle. “Spent a lot of his time making sure everyone around knew how disgusted he was by my sexuality—well, about homosexuality in general.”

A sound escaped from Logan’s throat and I glanced his way.

“Dre? Dre had an issue with you being gay?” Logan frowned. “I knew he just recently came out and his parents are super religious and threw him out, but I can’t see him being a homophobe.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, well…maybe he’s different now, but he was obnoxious about it back then.” Bringing up the day I left Bellville wasn’t something I wanted to do. Now or ever. I could admit that a person could change, but it didn’t do anything to ease the way Dre had made me feel that day. From an unexpected, hopeful—even if ridiculous—high to a crashing low. I was willing to forget about it, but I didn’t see how any amount of changing or talking could fix what Dre and I had.

The next morning, the tension was thick. By chance—or maybe he’d done it knowing my schedule—he’d showered the night before so the bathroom was free for me, but there was no way to skip the awkwardness.

I’d dressed in the bathroom just to avoid being around him and gave a sigh of relief when I saw he was already up and out of the bedroom when I emerged from my morning routine.

A twinge of guilt hit me as I walked into the kitchen and saw Dre waiting for his coffee to finish. The guy looked exhausted. I winced. Our shifts weren’t easy on the sleep cycle to begin with. Switching from nights to days probably fucked him up even more.

I sneered at my thoughts. Why the hell would I care? If he didn’t like the change, he could take it up with the boss, quit, or deal with it. My vote was for quit, but I figured I wouldn’t get that lucky.

“Made you coffee.” Dre yawned and pointed toward a travel mug. “Didn’t know how you liked it.”

“Don’t,” I snapped. “Don’t make me coffee. Don’t try to be friendly. Don’t act like we’ll just chat our shift away and not recognize how shitty all of this is.” I yearned to pick up the warm cup and sip its caffeinated goodness, but everything in me refused to give Dre that satisfaction. “Don’t be late.” I grabbed my keys. I’d get coffee and food at the station. There was always coffee and food.

Dre’s eyes narrowed as he studied me. “Did you want to ride together? Save gas?”

Was he fucking kidding me? “No.” Wanting to slam the door to punctuate my point, I controlled myself and closed it quietly so as not to wake the whole house.

It was still dark outside; we’d be heading to work in the dark for at least three months. Leaving in the dark, home in the dark. I actually didn’t mind it. Summer shifts were harder. Leaving in the daylight was fine, but getting home and wanting to crash when the sun was up for hours still was rough.

When I got to the station, I spent a few minutes chatting with the night shift crew members who were heading into their off days. I noticed Dre walk in as I said goodbye to a few of the crew I was somewhat friendly with; at least he was on time.

Without a word to him, I set to work with the checklist to make sure our rig was well-stocked. Dre joined me and began on his own checklist. Outside of giving me a look from time-to-time, he kept his mouth shut which was how I liked it and how it needed to be.

Once I was finished, I wandered to the coffee pot and thanked my lucky stars that it looked and smelled hot and fresh.

“Thought you didn’t want coffee?” Dre stood beside me with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Didn’t want coffee from you.” I poured a cup and fixed it with sugar and cream before walking away. I had some online training courses I needed to finish. A lot of people thought my job was a constant stream of saving lives and that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. There was a lot of downtime. Which was great for catching a nap, running, lifting weights, taking training courses—all after my responsibilities on the rig—but it also meant