Pop 13
Leo spotted Tristan in the hallway outside Mr. George’s room,
frozen like a statue with panic stamped across his face.
Cherry trailed behind, heels clicking like she was about to break into a runway walk.
Then—bam—an elderly resident rounded the corner,
proudly swinging what looked like a sagging goldfish bag… except it wasn’t water.
Cherry saw what was headed towards her, a bag of yellow something,
But Before she could sidestep, the bag sloshed, sending a warm,
mysterious splash right by her face.
Cherry screamed and starts jumping up and down,
Leo, just a few steps away, caught sight of Cherry hopping around like she’d stepped
on invisible lava.
He decided to ignore her—probably just one of her random “moments.”
His focus went back to Tristan.
His face was still in shock.
Then Tristan leaned in.
Not just close—dangerously close.
As if that wasn’t enough, Tristan’s shoulder brushed against Leo’s, slow and deliberate,
like it had every right to be there.
Leo froze.
He could feel the faint warmth of Tristan’s breath brushing his cheek,
like an uninvited whisper.
His brain short-circuited, and suddenly he wasn’t sure if the thundering in his ears was panic…
or something else entirely.
Was he… attracted to Tristan?
Impossible.
Except—look at him. That jawline was a weapon.
Those eyes? Illegal in at least ten countries.
Ok, ten countries is an understatement.
Make it a hundred, or maybe more.
Yes, those eyes should be globally illegal.
No, seriously—who wouldn’t be attracted to Tristan?
“Tristan! Are you okay? What happened?” Leo asked, jogging up to him.
Tristan’s chest was rising and falling like he’d just outrun a pack of angry chihuahuas.
Speechless.
The hottie is in complete shock, like seriously.
Cherry stepped in, for a second, she ignored her dripping hair.
And that weird scent from somebody’s yesterday.
She realized that this Leo and Tristan situation calls for her to step up her game.
Be more kind, you can never go wrong with kindness.
It will make her more pretty.
She patted his back in that “comforting friend” way…
which quickly turned into “casual full-body inspection.”
Her hand slowed, lingering a little too long.
Yep—solid gym-sculpted muscle under that polo.
“Mm-hmm,” she thought. “Definitely gym perfect”
“Tristan, what happened?” Leo repeated, trying to ignore Cherry practically thirsting over Tristan.
Tristan’s voice cracked like a teen in choir practice. “I think… I think I broke his—”
Leo’s eyes flew open. “Cherry, take Tristan to the breakfast room and get him some water.”
Cherry blinked. “Breakfast room? Where’s that?”
“Just around the corner from the nurse’s station,” Leo said, already thinking ahead.
“But why? I have to fix my mess first, my hair smells like rotten something” Cherry protested
Cherry was about to add something when an elderly woman dropped four filled and close
to soaking urine bags on Cherry’s hands.
And to Cherry’s shock, six other elderly men slowly walked by and start giving her their urinary portables.
Cherry screamed as she struggles to hold all the urine bags and portables that was literally dropped on her lap.
Tristan lunged forward and hugged Leo like they were in a soap opera reunion scene.
“Oh, Leo… I don’t know what I’ll do. For sure they’ll kick me out of nursing class!”
Leo patted his back once. “I’ll handle it. Go. Breathe.”
Cherry, smelling both drama and opportunity, dropped all the bags on the floor,
she quickly linked her arm through Tristan’s like he was her boyfriend of three years
and led him away. “Come on, hot—uh—Tristan. Let’s hydrate.”
Leo knocked on Mr. George’s door, and there he was—perched on his bed
with that mischievous grin that could get him banned from three bingo halls.
“Leo? You didn’t work last night. Why?”
Leo smiled. “Had to study. Nursing by day, cleaning by night—it’s a grind.”
Mr. George nodded. “I don’t know how you do it.”
Leo shrugged. “Helping my neighbor. His wife’s sick.”
Leo narrowed his eyes. “So… did something happen earlier with my buddy Tristan?”
Mr. George’s grin spread slow,
like a cat that just knocked something off a shelf on purpose. “I scared him. Good, didn’t I?”
Leo shook his head, but a smile still crept across his face. “Yes, Mr. George. Yes, you did.”
Leo slowly lifted the sheet that’s covering Mr. George.
A quick check confirmed it—no injuries, nothing broken. The man was perfectly fine.
Just another day in the nursing home.
And Mr. George?'
He was running one of his classic retirement home pranks:
Terrifying fresh-faced nursing students right out of their crisp, perfectly pressed white scrubs…
…and loving every second of it.
Leo was about to leave when Mr. George suddenly clutched his chest
and let out a long, rattling gasp. His eyes rolled back.
Leo yelped—actually yelped—nearly dropping his clipboard.
Mr. George burst out laughing so hard he had to wipe tears from his eyes.
"Gotcha too, kid."
