muse_shuffle | July Disc One
Track 04. I was staring at the sky, just looking for a star (Fiona Apple - 'Paper Bag')
They’d managed to score a room with a balcony at the hotel they stopped at. It was a roasting hot night and Riley found the room oppressive after they’d channel-surfed and found crap all worth watching. Tab took the time to work on some music, so Riley had a cool shower and then took his smokes and cell phone and went out on the balcony to just relax after the long drive.
His hair was still dripping wet and droplets of water dripped from the curls at the nape of his neck down onto his bare back. It felt nice and soothing, and at first he wasted close to half an hour just staring up at the sky. One thing Riley had noticed since returning to America was the air never seemed as clear, fresh or crisp as it did in Scotland. There was a running joke over there that God gave Scotland the suckiest weather so he had to give them beautiful scenery and atmosphere to make up for it. Same tale goes for the origin of the kilt. The weather was so bad the kilt gave easy access for other activities to occupy their time with during the harsh winter months. Riley once asked Lachlan about that little take on the Scotland tradition and all he got was a snort and a ‘I dinnae care, buddy. I’ll fuck in the rain, hail, sleet or snow and have done in my kilt or nay’.
He blew a puff of smoke slowly out before him and watched it connect with the humid air. He’d just finished a call up with Patrick Preston, Lachlan’s childhood and closest best friend. Riley had become close to Pat by default even if Pat lived in America when Riley was in Scotland. Pat was the biggest reason Lachlan came to Princeton, already working as Anaesthetist at Princeton Plainsboro. Although he worked here, he regularly visited Lachlan in Scotland and immediately adopted Riley just like Lachlan had done. Pat was one of the most colourful and extroverted people Riley knew. Gay to the absolute core with a penchant for the colour pink, Pat was more feminine than any female Riley knew. He had bright pink tips in his reddy-blond hair, wore bright pink nursing scrubs with matching pink Converse shoes and never failed to brighten up a room. That was why it came as such a surprise when Lachlan called one night a few months before his own accident and told Riley that Pat had been diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis following suffering a brain haemorrhage in September last year. It was a shock and Pat spent some time in a wheelchair before declaring he wasn’t going to let it drag him down and with much rehab he got back on his feet to recover from the episode.
Of course, it went without saying that Pat was also very close to Beth, so Riley found himself on the end of an impromptu phone call from the bright Anaesthetist about his intentions towards her. Riley knew it was in good humour and Pat was really calling to make sure Riley was okay and wasn’t going to Disneyland to run away from the hurt and confusion. Unlike Lachlan, who generally worked up to enquiries like that, Pat just threw it out there and caught Riley off guard and causing him to admit that yes, maybe he was running away on some level, but he promised to come back.
It had been a long conversation littered with little pearls of Pat wisdom and, of course, much sexual innuendo, as is Pat’s forte. But it had left Riley more than a little deep in thought. He looked up at the thick cover of stars in the sky and realised that he was missing Beth like crazy. Ever since she had followed him to Princeton, it just felt to him like they were strangers. He knew that was his fault. He’d thrown up a wall from the minute he laid eyes on her and hadn’t made any attempt to knock it down.
And now he just missed her. He missed them.
Riley turned back to check Tab was okay. She was still hunched over her guitar with a pen in her mouth and didn’t particularly look like she needed his entertainment or company right at that second. He carefully balanced the cigarette between his lips, blowing a puff of smoke out the corner of his mouth, and pulled his address book up on his cell phone and dialled.
Four rings and then an answer. He smiled. “Hey, love. I just wanted to call and tell you that I, um… well, I miss you…”
- Tabitha Browne [asinthecity] Patrick Preston [sexyinscrubs], Beth Anderson [phtgrphcscot] & Lachlan Campbell [drcampbell] referenced with permission
Words | 796
They’d managed to score a room with a balcony at the hotel they stopped at. It was a roasting hot night and Riley found the room oppressive after they’d channel-surfed and found crap all worth watching. Tab took the time to work on some music, so Riley had a cool shower and then took his smokes and cell phone and went out on the balcony to just relax after the long drive.
His hair was still dripping wet and droplets of water dripped from the curls at the nape of his neck down onto his bare back. It felt nice and soothing, and at first he wasted close to half an hour just staring up at the sky. One thing Riley had noticed since returning to America was the air never seemed as clear, fresh or crisp as it did in Scotland. There was a running joke over there that God gave Scotland the suckiest weather so he had to give them beautiful scenery and atmosphere to make up for it. Same tale goes for the origin of the kilt. The weather was so bad the kilt gave easy access for other activities to occupy their time with during the harsh winter months. Riley once asked Lachlan about that little take on the Scotland tradition and all he got was a snort and a ‘I dinnae care, buddy. I’ll fuck in the rain, hail, sleet or snow and have done in my kilt or nay’.
He blew a puff of smoke slowly out before him and watched it connect with the humid air. He’d just finished a call up with Patrick Preston, Lachlan’s childhood and closest best friend. Riley had become close to Pat by default even if Pat lived in America when Riley was in Scotland. Pat was the biggest reason Lachlan came to Princeton, already working as Anaesthetist at Princeton Plainsboro. Although he worked here, he regularly visited Lachlan in Scotland and immediately adopted Riley just like Lachlan had done. Pat was one of the most colourful and extroverted people Riley knew. Gay to the absolute core with a penchant for the colour pink, Pat was more feminine than any female Riley knew. He had bright pink tips in his reddy-blond hair, wore bright pink nursing scrubs with matching pink Converse shoes and never failed to brighten up a room. That was why it came as such a surprise when Lachlan called one night a few months before his own accident and told Riley that Pat had been diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis following suffering a brain haemorrhage in September last year. It was a shock and Pat spent some time in a wheelchair before declaring he wasn’t going to let it drag him down and with much rehab he got back on his feet to recover from the episode.
Of course, it went without saying that Pat was also very close to Beth, so Riley found himself on the end of an impromptu phone call from the bright Anaesthetist about his intentions towards her. Riley knew it was in good humour and Pat was really calling to make sure Riley was okay and wasn’t going to Disneyland to run away from the hurt and confusion. Unlike Lachlan, who generally worked up to enquiries like that, Pat just threw it out there and caught Riley off guard and causing him to admit that yes, maybe he was running away on some level, but he promised to come back.
It had been a long conversation littered with little pearls of Pat wisdom and, of course, much sexual innuendo, as is Pat’s forte. But it had left Riley more than a little deep in thought. He looked up at the thick cover of stars in the sky and realised that he was missing Beth like crazy. Ever since she had followed him to Princeton, it just felt to him like they were strangers. He knew that was his fault. He’d thrown up a wall from the minute he laid eyes on her and hadn’t made any attempt to knock it down.
And now he just missed her. He missed them.
Riley turned back to check Tab was okay. She was still hunched over her guitar with a pen in her mouth and didn’t particularly look like she needed his entertainment or company right at that second. He carefully balanced the cigarette between his lips, blowing a puff of smoke out the corner of his mouth, and pulled his address book up on his cell phone and dialled.
Four rings and then an answer. He smiled. “Hey, love. I just wanted to call and tell you that I, um… well, I miss you…”
- Tabitha Browne [asinthecity] Patrick Preston [sexyinscrubs], Beth Anderson [phtgrphcscot] & Lachlan Campbell [drcampbell] referenced with permission
Words | 796