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Trinity pulled back the curtain to the dressing room, stepping inside. Victoria stood, unsure what to do.
“Are you just gonna stand there?” At Victoria’s silence, Trinity beckoned her inside the small space with a nod of her head. “Come on, we’re both girls, it’s fine.”
Victoria followed her inside, taking a seat on the stool in the corner near the curtain, putting her eye level with Trinity’s waist.
Trinity had dragged her along with Whitaker to the nearest mall, claiming she needed to update her wardrobe, something about needing a “queer glow-up.” She said Dennis’ wardrobe was just atrocious, and though she hadn’t seen much of Victoria’s clothes outside of scrubs, she had no doubt Victoria needed an update too. Victoria didn’t know whether or not she should be offended by that.
Dennis had gone off on his own, saying he didn’t trust Trinity to dress him after the last time they went clothes shopping together (Trinity had tried to convince him to buy these tiny denim shorts, declaring they matched his “farm-boy aesthetic”). While Trinity had grabbed Victoria’s hand and pulled her into the nearest Abercrombie & Fitch, saying she wanted to buy more pants.
Which is where they were now, stuffed in the tiny fitting room. It was dimly lit, with a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, and the speakers blared a loud pop song Victoria couldn't recognize. Trinity was turned away, trying to find a place to put the collection of pants and her belongings; there was really no room for either. Victoria held out her hands, offering to hold her items. Trinity smiled mockingly at her, saying she was so kind, and plopped the jeans in Victoria’s lap.
Then, she promptly dropped her own pants.
Victoria blinked, having forgotten precisely why they were in here. She looked up at the ceiling, trying not to make eye contact with the smooth expanse of Trinity’s bare legs in her peripheral vision. It worked until Trinity started snapping in her face. She looked up to find Trinity smirking at her.
She didn’t say anything, just gestured for Victoria to hand her a pair of jeans, which she did. Trinity turned around to face the mirror, bending over to step into the pants, putting her backside even closer to Victoria’s face. She was wearing underwear, but still. Victoria stared hard at the wall beside her, desperately trying not to look. It felt like the temperature in the room had gone up a hundred degrees. Her palms felt clammy as she gripped her own bag and Santos’ belongings. She was almost a doctor, goddamnit. She saw bodies all the time. She needed to get it together.
Santos either was oblivious to her inner struggle or simply didn’t care. She was focused on how the jeans fit, twisting and turning to see them in the mirror. Trinity must have done this often; maybe getting half-undressed in fitting rooms was a normal activity for girls with their friends. Another experience Victoria missed out on, it seemed. Something Santos was obviously familiar with, if her casualness about the whole situation meant anything. Santos cleared her throat to get Victoria’s attention.
“Do you like these?” Santos asked.
Victoria kept her eyes carefully locked on Santos’ in the mirror as she nodded tightly, clearing her throat to try and get a strained ‘mhm!’ out.
“You’re not even looking. Come on, I brought you here because I wanted a second opinion. Do you think they’re too tight?”
Victoria finally let her gaze travel downward to Trinity’s lower half. Trinity was really asking if these were too tight? Victoria didn’t even understand how she got these pants up her legs; they looked painted on; the top half did, at least. The bottoms flared out at the knee, but the top part was tight, fitting her curves well. Santos’ ass was already distracting enough in scrubs (not that Victoria had noticed, of course), but in these it was much more prominent.
She didn’t really know what to say; the only words flying through her head were holy shit and ass. She felt like a teenage boy.
It wasn’t until Trinity turned around with her hands on her hips, giving Victoria a front row view of her belly button, Jesus Christ, exposed now that she was wearing low-waisted pants instead of her previous high-waisted ones, that she realized she hadn’t said anything at all. Victoria forced her gaze up to meet Trinity’s own teasing expression. Caught.
“Are you staring at my ass, Crash?”
Victoria didn’t even try to deny it, even as she felt her stomach flare with the accusation. “It’s kind of hard to miss.”
Trinity just laughed.
“Objectification and victim blaming. I thought you were a feminist.” Victoria rolled her eyes as Trinity continued on. “You know, you could get cancelled for this. I should make a Twitter thread. #DrJisOverParty.”
Victoria huffed out a breath, leaning back in her seat. “The pants look okay.”
Trinity lifted a brow. “Just okay?” She wiggled her hips a little, still directly in Javadi’s eyeline. “You sure?” She dragged out in a little sing-song.
Victoria sighed again, feeling her cheeks heat at the display. Of having Trinity’s whole self right in front of her. She looked to the ceiling, praying for strength. Something she found herself doing often recently.
Victoria was still getting used to the fact that Trinity was a very…physical person. Victoria had seen the way she’d sometimes come into work with an arm around Dennis’ shoulders, or playfully ruffling his hair in a way that a sister might (not that Victoria would know). Trinity wasn’t one to shy away from casual physical affection as her familiarity with someone increased, once they had breached the walls of her toughened exterior, of course. It’s something Victoria has found herself privy to, now that she and Trinity have stumbled into somewhat of a friendship.
With that, Victoria has also noticed that Trinity is very confident in her body. She takes up space. She’s sure of herself in a way that Victoria hasn’t yet mastered. All of Trinity’s movements are made with intention: the definitive set of her hips when she walks around the ED, the robust gestures of her hands when she’s trying to convince Victoria and Dennis that she’s figured out the plot twist in a murder mystery they’ve chosen at one of their movie nights, or the way she slumps her head, cheek warm against Victoria’s shoulder when she inevitably falls asleep before she can even see if she’s right, her and Dennis sharing a fond look over Trinity’s sleeping figure.
It feels like Trinity is everywhere all the time. In her space, filling her senses, plaguing her thoughts. She’s never too far from Victoria at work, always popping from around a corner with some quip directly aimed to rile her up. The shape of her name often lights up on Victoria’s phone, either in the form of a text with some absurd late-night thought she declares she needs Victoria’s opinion on right then, or of a photo of Dennis so embarrassing that Victoria swears she can hear Trinity’s laugh from behind the camera. The attention warms Victoria from the inside, giving her a sense of belonging she hasn’t felt before. It makes her feel wanted, and it’s making her have some wants too.
The attention is making it hard to ignore her ever-growing attraction for Trinity Santos. Her attraction to women isn’t new, no. Victoria had figured out she liked women back in med school (thank you, Jodie Comer, in Killing Eve), and she’s spent long enough dissecting what she’s come to realize were probably crushes on various female teachers she’s had throughout her extensive education. But the recent fascination with Trinity was unexpected, especially given how annoying Victoria had found the other girl at first.
Victoria often finds herself getting lost in the sea green of Trinity’s eyes or staring at her soft-looking, pink lips when she speaks. She frequently has to stop herself from checking Trinity out (What? Trinity has a nice body, and Victoria has eyes, okay? Sue her.), and that half-pony she wears to work makes her look so good it’s almost stupid.
Sometimes Victoria feels guilty about the thoughts she has about her coworker, but Trinity wouldn’t mind, right? It’s not like Victoria is doing anything about them, per se, just sort of silently stewing in her infatuation.
Privately, Victoria has to wonder if Trinity could feel the same way about her, at least to an extent. She knows Trinity can be prickly, but Victoria hasn’t seen Trinity talk to anyone else at work the same way she talks to her. With the intent of making her laugh or getting a rise out of her. She sometimes thinks she feels Trinity’s gaze linger on her when she isn’t looking; those moments make her feel like her heart is beating out of her chest. She’s not sure if she’s just projecting, but all of her interactions with Trinity feel charged, even when they’re just teasing. Especially when they’re one-upping each other (foreplay, her mind supplies—she tells that part of her brain to shut up), sometimes it gets so heated that Dennis has to intervene.
Even now, Trinity taunting her in this tiny dressing room feels charged. Victoria believes Trinity has to know what she’s doing; as she takes in the jeans Trinity’s wearing, she realizes they’re nothing like what she’d seen Trinity wear before. The bellbottoms are dark-washed and get lighter as they go down, giving them a faux-faded look. They’re big and flouncy on the bottom, and almost skin-tight on the top, the fabric hugging Trinity’s thighs snugly.
The pants are definitely cute, sure, but Victoria doesn’t really think they’re Trinity’s style. On her days off, Trinity’s usually found sporting looser, baggier clothing (masc…her mind whispers again–which Victoria dutifully ignores). The jeans are actually something Victoria may have picked out for herself under different circumstances. She wouldn’t put it past Trinity to have purposefully tried them on just to torment her right now. Victoria’s own personal form of denim-clad hell (or heaven?).
She realizes that Trinity is still waiting for an answer. Instead of saying all of that, she decides to say something that wouldn’t make Trinity make fun of her for the rest of her life.
“I don’t think they’re really your style.” Victoria finally replies.
Trinity had returned her gaze to the mirror once it was clear Victoria was lost in her thoughts, but this made her face Victoria again with a cheeky smile.
“No? And pray tell, Dr. J, what is my style?”
Victoria should have known that once Trinity learned of her recent TikTok fame, she would run these jokes into the ground. Instead of answering with words, Victoria decides to poke fun at her a little.
She leans back in the stool, crossing her arms and spreading her legs in a clear imitation of how Trinity seems to manspread (dykespread, as Trinity calls it) in almost every seat she comes across. She raises her eyebrows with intent, waiting for Trinity to catch on.
Trinity’s mouth drops open in a faux-gasp as she scoffs, her eyes lighting up when she realizes what Victoria is emulating.
“Hello? You might as well have just called me a dyke, damn.” There’s an approval in Trinity’s gaze that makes Victoria’s body thrum, feeling high off the banter.
Victoria giggles, shrugging. Trinity shakes her head.
“I’ll have you know that the lesbian fashion spectrum is exactly what it sounds like: a spectrum. You should be more inclusive. I’m putting that in the thread—Dr. J: homophobic. Dr. J: invalidates butch lesbian identities!”
Victoria laughs, rolling her eyes at the girl’s mock outrage.
As Trinity carries on with her little spiel, Victoria feels her phone buzz. Checking it, she sees that Dennis has texted their shared group chat to say he’s finished with his shopping and wants to know where they are. A second text lets her know that he’s on his way to Auntie Anne’s. Sheepishly, she returns her phone to her bag without replying, opting to stay in the dressing room with Trinity for a little while longer. Dennis will be fine.
“So, I shouldn’t buy the pants?” Trinity asks.
“Well, I didn’t say that.” Victoria corrects.
Trinity tilts her head at her. “So, you do like them?”
Victoria decides to do something she doesn’t often do around Trinity; she gives in.
“I do. You look good in them. Hot.” She tacks on at the end.
Trinity’s demeanor changes slightly. Victoria thinks Trinity’s cheeks get a little redder in the mirror, but with the room’s dim lighting, she can’t be too sure.
“You think I look hot?” Trinity’s voice is lower. Victoria tries not to let her body's reaction to it show.
Victoria simply nods, face heating up as she chances another purposeful look toward Trinity’s bottom half, eyes catching on the bare skin of her lower back.
She watches Trinity bite her lip in the mirror before she replies, teasing tone seeping back into her voice. “I knew you were looking at my ass.”
Victoria huffs, shifting in her seat. Is this flirting? She feels a rush go through her at the thought.
Trinity is shaking her head in the mirror, making tsk-ing sounds at Javadi. “Dr. J…pervert.”
“Can you stop?!”
Trinity bursts into laughter, the sound probably loud enough to be audible to the people in the store. The heated tension breaks, for the moment at least.
“Can you hand me the next pair of pants, perv?” Trinity unbuttons the bellbottoms and tosses them at Victoria once she gets them off, the fabric hitting Victoria square in the face.
Victoria’s eyes close as she flinches, her jaw dropping in offense. She opens them to find Trinity stifling her laughter. Victoria is going to kill her.
—
When they finally exit the dressing room, Trinity makes a beeline for the register to buy those damned pants, smirking at Victoria as she swipes her card. Victoria’s too keyed up to even think about looking for something to buy for herself.
As they walk out of the store, she’s about to pull out her phone to text Dennis back before Trinity suddenly gasps, a hand shooting out to stop Victoria in her path. She looks up to see Trinity’s gaze locked on the store across from them. Victoria’s Secret. Oh no.
Trinity turns to her, grin too wide for Victoria’s liking.
“Have you ever bought a thong?”
This girl was going to be the death of her.