More Than a Kiss

The Mole

Amy rounded a corner of the hospital hallway just as Jeremy did and he crashed into her.

Meet Dr. Jeremy Blevins. Jeremy was tall and skinny and had his hair pulled back in a ponytail. He looked like he had never outgrown the garage band look of his teen years. Jeremy was Amy's roommate and whenever she needed a last minute date to chaperone her somewhere, he was always available. As long as there was free food. It was a give-and-take system that had worked well for them for several years.

"I heard you had a hottie come in," Jeremy said. "Wanna trade patients?"

Amy sighed. If Jeremy wanted to trade patients it meant he had somebody really bad. "Who do you have?"

"Mrs. Markus," he said. "She thinks her mole is changing colors again."

Amy grimaced. "No thanks."

"No, you should really see it this time. It is a different color, I swear. It's green today. Last week it was magenta."

"Maybe it's a mood mole," Amy said. She looked closer at Jeremy. His eyes were bloodshot and glassy. "How long have you been on?"

He squinted at his watch and moved his lips in silent calculation. "Sixteen hours and counting. Why, you need some help?"

"Go home," Amy said. "You look like homemade poop."

"I believe the metaphor is homemade soap," he corrected.

"It's not a metaphor it's a simile."

Jeremy wagged his finger in her face. "I know what you're doing. You're trying to distract me from the hottie."

Amy answered, "I hate the term hottie."

“No, you don’t,” Jeremy said. “You only hate it that I didn’t call you a hottie.”

Jeremy dodged Amy’s playful swat. He laughed and walked backwards down the hallway saying with an ominous vampire accent, "Don't be late for supper. Isabel is preparing dinner.”

Isabel was their other roommate. You will meet her later in the story. Isabel was a budding chef. She liked to try out exotic recipes and Amy and Jeremy were her human guinea pigs.

Amy wrinkled her nose in disgust. "You go home first. Text me if she's boiling organ meat again, and I'll smuggle in some fast food."

“You’re looking pretty perky for pulling a double shift in the emergency room,” he said. “If I didn't know better, it almost seems like you’re, oh, what’s the word?” He snapped his fingers. “Happy.”

“It’s just a figment of your addled and sleep-deprived brain. Go make Mrs. Markus happy and see if her mole turns blue.”