Unassailable: The professor.

Chapter 1

You could say that I'm an avoider-wreck since I am an unlucky mix between those two.

Part of being a surgeon is treating people. You spend more time with your patient -conscious or not- that you sometimes do with your own family. And I was well aware of that the moment I firmly decided to submit my applications to med school.

You need to learn from people's behavior in order to be a great doctor. Your job doesn't end when the suture is finished, or when the heart rate has flatlined. It does when you send the family home at peace, thankful with you for being able to give someone one more shot at life. Or when they go home to grieve, anger and injustice running through their bodies, guilt and prepotency filling your own, always blaming yourself, thinking about how you should've done more to save your patient's life.

I stared at my half-finished coffee, adjusting myself into a more comfortable position on the chair of the little café I was currently in.

Dolls are the people you should always be more careful with when delivering bad news. They're the most fragile of them all. At least that's what my mother used to say.

Funny thing, she is a doll herself. I'm still debating on whether she is aware of it or not.

In the middle of my subconsciously perpetuated human-behavioral analysis, my eyes gained attention on something else. Well, not something, but someone. A fit figure sitting not so far from my current position. My heart skipped a beat. I became nervous and tried to convince myself that this reaction was due to me being sure I've seen him before. I just didn't know where or when. He looked incredibly familiar.

Not to mention how I was intentionally ignoring the fact that he was Greek-god looking. He had this perfectly laid back, black hair you even feel envious of, curly and messy, yet still somehow elegant, a jaw that could cut me into pieces, rewarding him with an air of mysteriousness. Oh and his eyes. Those profound dazzling blue eyes... I had definitely seen him before.

I stared at him shamelessly. Everything about him screamed dark. He was wearing a black sweater that hugged his broad shoulders and muscled arms perfectly, along with navy blue denim jeans.

My eyes darted to the book laying open on his table. The oncology manual.

My insides tingled at his reading choice.

«He's into med?»

He seemed too old to be a student, so that's definitely not why I felt like I've met him.

I tried rummaging through my brain to see if I was able to find any trace of his face from the day I went to visit my -soon to be- med-school for the first time. It consisted of a day to familiarize with the college's environment, a lot of students from all grades and majors along with some professors were present.

And yet I couldn't place his features in any of those newly known people.

I remembered how nervous I was when I sent my application to Cooley's university, how anxious I had been for four whole months -it had been a martyrdom- and then how excited I had felt when I read they had accepted me. I'll never forget how that feels. Freedom, fear. It's wonderful, really. You feel a cycle closing and another one starting from scratch. Being in med-school seemed something so unreal, so far from reality, yet here I was, just a few hours away from starting.

My eyes snapped from their little daydream as they focused once again to the handsome stranger.

«Who are you?»

He was completely absorbed by the words on the text he was reading, being entirely oblivious to the rest of the world besides him. It was a beautiful sight.