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In the six months that they’d been sleeping together, Yolanda had called Trinity exclusively by her first or last name. Nothing more, nothing less.
About two weeks into their arrangement, Yolanda had remarked casually that she wasn’t a nickname person which Trinity found ironic given most of the senior residents and attendings referred to her as Yoyo or Yolo. Not to mention the fact that Trinity had heard Yolanda refer to some of their coworkers by nicknames.
That said, Trinity respected that this was the surgeon’s preference and didn’t push it. She answered to Trinity outside the hospital walls and Santos in trauma rooms, and she followed suit with how she referred to Yolanda in the applicable settings.
The first time it happened, Trinity almost didn’t catch it. The two of them were laying on Yolanda’s couch. There was plenty of space on the sectional, in fact more than any two people could need, and yet Trinity found herself pressed against Yolanda, their legs intertwined and her ear listening to the older woman’s heart thump steadily in her chest.
“Trin, could you get me some water?” she asked, eyes still focused on whatever drama was unfolding on the “Real Housewives of Potomac”. Trinity had resolved herself to not paying attention to the show half an episode ago, instead fixated on how Yolanda’s fingers absentmindedly ran through her hair. It was a worthy distraction. Trinity didn’t move, frozen when she realized what Yolanda had called her.
“What did you say?” Trinity asked.
Yolanda finally looked from the screen to her. “I asked if you could get me some water? Sorry to put you out but you are on top of me and it feels most efficient…”
The younger resident shook her head, dark locks falling into her face from where Yolanda had tucked them behind her ears.
“No, no, what did you call me?”
“Trinity?”
“No. You called me Trin. You’ve never called me Trin before.”
Yolanda scoffed, sitting up slowly, shaking Trinity off of her. “You must’ve misheard me.”
“No, I’m pretty sure yo…”
“Santos, drop it.” Trinity had crossed a line, a fact that was made evident by the usage of her last name. Yolanda stood and crossed to the kitchen to retrieve a glass. Trinity sat quietly like a kicked puppy, aware the conversation was over.
When Yolanda returned, they didn’t resume cuddling and let the distance settle between them, instead.
—————————————————————
The second time an unexpectedly tender nickname slipped from Yolanda’s lips, it was on a Sunday in a park. The sun had finally come out, and Trinity yearned to spend at least some of their limited free time outside. Hence Yolanda found herself sitting on a picnic blanket, drinking a surprisingly cold iced tea and munching on chips.
Trinity was wrapt in a story about a man who had come into the ER with one of his nipples in a ziplock bag. “Foreplay gone wrong, dry ice shouldn’t be anywhere near the bedroom. He’s lucky he didn’t sustain any terrible burns.”
That’s when Yolanda spotted it, a spider climbing up Trinity’s shorts. The resident was too busy laughing about the case to notice.
“Trinity, don’t move,” Yolanda murmured. Trinity froze immediately.
“What?”
“There’s a spider on you.” Trinity’s eyes widened considerably, mouth parted in horror.
“Yolanda, get it,” Trinity hissed.
Yolanda grabbed one of the paper cups they’d brought and carefully scooted closer to Trinity. The spider had decided the denim of Trinity’s shorts was his new resting space so it wasn’t difficult for Yolanda to trap him in the cup and transfer him to the grass.
The surgeon smiled at the younger woman, amused by her reaction to the arachnid. Trinity had disclosed her fear of spiders to Yolanda about two months in. Yolanda had found it endearing that someone as badass and hardened as Trinity was scared of little creatures.
She reached out to tuck a loose lock of hair behind Trinity’s ear. “All safe now, princess,” she hummed and cradled her jaw softly. Their eyes met and Trinity swore she saw something bright and affectionate in Yolanda’s irises.
Trinity flushed bright red. “Did you just call me princess?”
Yolanda dropped her hand immediately, returning to her original spot where her iced tea sat. “Yes, because it’s spoiled princess behavior to need to be rescued from a little spider,” she remarked coldly.
Trinity pretended that didn’t hurt, “Right, of course.”
———————————————————
The third time happened in a trauma room. A twenty six year old man had come in with chest pains that rapidly devolved into pneumothorax. It was an odd day meaning the ER was on point to insert the chest tube. Trinity had readily and eagerly stepped up to the task.
With Yolanda supervising, Trinity had perfectly inserted the tube and the patient had been carted off to an OR to permanently solve the problem.
To Trinity’s surprise, Yolanda had lingered behind until it was just the two of them remaining in the room.
“Good job. You’re getting better at those,” the surgeon affirmed, a smug smile on her face. The R2 flushed, toying with the stethoscope around her neck. Trinity had noticed early on that Yolanda seemed to consider her accomplishments her own.
She tried to nonchalantly shrug, to hide how the praise was affecting her, “Just have a good teacher, I guess.”
Yolanda sauntered closer to her, lifting her hand to play with the collar of her scrub top. She moved her fingers over her shoulder as if she was removing lint. They both knew it was just an excuse to touch her.
“Do you have plans after shift?”
“Hmm, what did you have in mind?” Trinity flirted as she closed the distance between the two of them. The movement was bold. If anyone walked in, their not so secret, secret situationship would be compromised, yet neither of them moved away from the other.
Yolanda let her hands fall to Trinity’s hips. “I can’t promise it will be as exciting as a chest tube, but I can promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
The younger woman smiled softly, almost bashfully. “Yeah, okay.” She felt a pinch on her right hip but somehow managed to contain a yelp.
“Meet me at my car when you’re done.” Trinity nodded and Yolanda’s eyes darted to her mouth. “Good job again, honey.” But just as quickly as she said it, the tender expression on her face hardened, and she spun on her heel and walked out of the room.
Trinity remained behind, stunned. “Honey?”
———————————————————
The fourth time it happened the night had found the two of them at their regular booth in their favorite dive bar. After two cheap beers each and a never ending exchange of flirty glances, they had decided to call it a night and go back to Yolanda’s place. Trinity had gone to settle the tab, with Yolanda’s amex, of course, while the older woman used the bathroom.
Just as the bartender slid the receipt for her to sign across the bar, someone knocked into her, almost throwing her off balance. “I’m so sorry,” she heard a feminine voice say as a hand gripped her elbow to steady her.
Trinity turned to the stranger, yanking her arm back, and huffed, “It’s fine, dude, just watch where you’re go…”
“Holy shit,” her assailant murmured as they made eye contact. She was beautiful, all dark curls, and big brown eyes enveloped by long luscious lashes. Her skin was dark, like milk chocolate, and was perfectly complimented by the purple v-neck she was wearing.
The resident raised an eyebrow, “Excuse me?”
The other woman flushed and Trinity smirked at the sight. “I’ve bumped into a lot of people before but never anyone with eyes as stunning as yours.”
It was Trinity’s turn to blush, as she laughed nervously. “Thank you?”
“No seriously, they’re so green. What shade is that? Sea foam?”
Trinity rubbed her hand along her neck, unintentionally flexing her bicep as she did so. She didn’t miss how the other woman watched the movement, nor did she miss how her lips parted slightly in response.
“I guess?” Trinity signed the receipt and slipped the paper back to the bartender.
She was met with a thoughtful hum. “Well, they’re gorgeous.” She clarified, “You’re gorgeous. I’m Marissa. What’s your name, beautiful?”
Before she could answer, a familiar hand slid along her back, strong, slender fingers locking onto her waist. “Ready to go, babe?”
Trinity looked towards the voice, not surprised to see Yolanda, but surprised by the pet name and the intense look that flickered in her eyes. The surgeon was pissed.
Marissa took a cautious step back. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you were here with someone else.”
Yolanda commented confidently, “She is.”
“Right. Well, you’re very lucky,” Marissa responded, eyes still flickering over Trinity. She gave Yolanda a look over too, and smirked slightly, before looking between the two of them. She trained her eyes back on Trinity. “Good to know though that if it doesn’t work out, I’m your type.”
Oh, this woman was bold, and Yolanda appeared to be on the brink of committing murder. Trinity watched as Yolanda’s hand that wasn’t possessively holding Trinity, clenched into a fist.
Right as Yolanda spit, “You have some fucking nerve,” Trinity took a step forward to place herself between the two of them. While being the source of a bar fight between two incredibly attractive women sounded like a wet dream, it wasn’t on her agenda for the night.
“And I think that’s our cue to go,” she slid her hand into Yolanda’s and interlaced their fingers. Yolanda finally turned her murderous look from the other woman to Trinity who rolled her eyes. “Come on, lady killer,” she remarked, giving her a tug away from the bar. “Have a nice night,” she said to Marissa.
Once they were outside, Yolanda huffed something in Spanish. “Maldita perra irrespetuosa.”
Trinity shot an amused glance her way. “What was that?”
“She stared at your ass the entire time we were leaving,” she snapped, pulling her keys out of her purse as she unlocked her grey BMW, affectionately named Sally.
“Many have, Yolanda. I have a great ass,” Trinity remarked, as she slid into the passenger seat.
Yolanda buckled her seatbelt and turned the key in the engine, the car humming as it came to life. “She had some fucking nerve speaking like that while I was standing right there, like I didn’t even fucking exist.”
Okay, this was maybe affecting Yolanda a little more than Trinity expected. She reached across the center console and grabbed Yolanda’s hand from the steering wheel.
“Hey,” she said softly. Yolanda glanced her way, the fire softening in her eyes almost immediately. “She doesn’t matter. You’re the one I’m going home with.”
Yolanda nodded once. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Trinity affirmed, sending her a delicate smile before leaning in to kiss her cheek. “Now, loosen your grip on the wheel, you’re going to hurt Sally.”
———————————————————
“Fuck, cariño, just like that,” Trinity froze, her tongue stalling momentarily, only to be reminded of her task by Yolanda impatiently grinding her hips against her face. She resumed her movements, filing the words away for another time.
Two orgasms later and Yolanda was splayed out on top of her; her fingers drummed against Trinity’s collarbone as her face nuzzled into her neck.
Trinity bit her lip, weighing whether or not she should say something. She made the decision to be brave. “You called me cariño earlier. What does that mean?”
The drumming and nuzzling stopped. “I did no such thing.”
“Yes, you did, when I was going down on you. What does it mean?”
Yolanda raised her head with an exasperated sigh, and lifted herself off of Trinity. She stood and began the hunt for her underwear. It was hanging on the lamp, which would’ve been funny, had it not been for the tension in the room.
Trinity watched her as she pulled her clothes back on. “Why do you do this?”
“Do what, Trinity?” Trinity could feel the eyeroll coming before she even saw it.
She exhaled, and rubbed at the back of her neck, a self soothing technique she’d picked up as a child. “You call me something affectionate, deny it when I bring it up, and then act like I’m being crazy.”
“I do not,” Yolanda said, her jaw set hard and eyes glowering. Trinity found herself wishing she had a fire extinguisher, needing something to douse the flames this conversation was going up in.
“Yes, you do! You just did it.” Yolanda grabbed her bag from Trinity’s desk, fishing out her keys. “Are you seriously leaving right now? What the fuck is your problem?”
That got the resident’s attention as she spun around to her, and spat, “You’re my fucking problem. You behave like a child and make a big deal out of nothing.”
“It obviously isn’t nothing if you’re throwing a temper tantrum over me asking about a fucking word.”
“I don’t owe you an answer. I’m not your girlfriend, Trinity. I’m not your anything.”
The words punched her in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her, and to her own embarrassment, her breath audibly hitched. For a second, regret seemed to flash across Yolanda’s face. As quickly as it appeared, it was gone.
“Leave,” Trinity murmured, aware of the tears that were building in her eyes. She refused to let Yolanda see her breakdown.
“Happily.” Another hit to the chest, maximum damage sustained.
She didn’t look back up at her, and only let the tears fall when she heard her bedroom door slam shut.
———————————————————
They hadn’t spoken outside of the hospital since #cariñogate as Trinity had dubbed it to Whitaker. Yolanda had texted a few times to ask if she wanted to hang out, as if nothing had happened, but her messages had gone unanswered. She’d even resorted to calling her on day four but Trinity had immediately sent her to voicemail. Yolanda hadn’t left one.
Trinity’s mind was made up. They were done. While she hadn’t really slept, or eaten for that matter, she took comfort in knowing she was better off with nothing than she was with whatever psychological warfare Yolanda had thrown her way over the last nine months.
It all fell apart on the sixth day of no contact when a harsh rapping at her front door had roused her from restless sleep.
“Can we talk?”
If Trinity hadn’t been so upset, she would’ve found the image in front of her hilarious. Yolanda, who had appeared so put together as long as Trinity had known her, was sopping wet, curls dripping onto her jacket and purse clutched tightly in her hands. She looked tired, bags hollowed out under her eyes, and her expression somewhat vacant.
Trinity’s jaw set and she shook her head, “There’s nothing to talk about,” she clarified, moving to shut the door.
“Trinity, wait, please.” She’d heard a lot of Yolanda’s different tones before: arousal, frustration, contentment, even a little sorrow after an unsuccessful surgery, but this was new. This was desperation. She looked small, fragile, like one wrong move could shatter her being into thousands of pieces.
“I fucked up, okay? I’m sorry.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll see you at work,” she responded, closing the door, in more ways than one. Before she had the chance to turn the lock, the door opened back up, almost hitting her in the face. “What the fuck, Garcia?”
The surgeon stormed in, dropping her bag on the floor, and toeing her shoes off, always respectful of house rules even when she didn’t respect the house owner. “We are talking about this.”
“What’s this? According to you, this isn’t anything,” she punctuated her words with a gesture between the two of them.
Yolanda’s face dropped and if Trinity didn’t know better, her eyes were far glassier than they had been before.
“I shouldn’t have said that. I was being cruel.”
“Yeah, but you said it, so that’s that. Message received loud and clear, Yolanda.”
“I didn’t mean it,” she declared, tone not wavering even as her hands slightly trembled. Trinity’s lips set in a straight line. Silence permeated in the room.
“Listen,” the older woman rubbed her hand over her face. “It freaked me out when I called you cariño. I panicked and I got mean and I shut you down.”
“So you admit you said it?”
“Yes. I said it and I shouldn’t have lied and made you feel crazy. I’m sorry.”
Trinity looked at her intently. She sounded sincere but she had lied before. “I don’t understand how it’s so easy for you to treat me like that. I could never ever do that to you.”
“I threw up.” Trinity stared at her dumbfounded. Yolanda elaborated, “I got to my car after I was that awful to you and threw up in the parking lot. If you want proof, there’s a red wine vomit stain near the second visitor parking space.”
“Gross.”
Yolanda stepped closer to her, not daring to touch, but longing to be within her space. “I hated that I did that. I really really regret it and I will do everything I can to make it up to you.” She extended her hand, palm facing up as a silent offer. Trinity studied her hand before her gaze fleeted back to her face.
She didn’t take her hand, not yet. Yolanda withdrew, face crumpling.
Neither of them spoke for a moment.
“It means sweetheart.”
“What?”
Yolanda cleared her throat, “Cariño. It has a few meanings. Always terms of affection though.”
“So, you called me sweetheart while we were having sex and that scared you?”
“Terrified me.”
“Why?”
The surgeon took a shaky breath and Trinity watched as a tear fell down her face. “You terrify me,” she declared, obviously trying to regain her composure. “My feelings for you terrify me. Affection just makes them even more real.”
And after every drop of a bomb, comes the moment of eerie silence before the impact. They both stood there, Yolanda looking off. All of the sudden, Trinity’s withering plants seemed to be the most interesting thing in the room.
“I’m not that scary,” Trinity muttered, to finally break the silence. A soft laugh escaped from the other woman.
“Baby,” Yolanda soothed, only for Trinity’s breath to unfairly hitch in response, “you’re the scariest person I’ve ever met.”
Deep brown eyes met bright green ones, neither of them blinking, just staring at each other, scared the other would disappear if they stopped.
Trinity took a step closer, immediately engulfed by a familiar scent: jasmine and vanilla, respectively, Yolanda’s go to shampoo and perfume. “You scare me too, you know?”
“Surgeons are typically pretty scary,” the other woman quipped.
Trinity rolled her eyes. “Not because of that, you idiot.” This time, she was the one to hold out her palm. Yolanda didn’t hesitate to capture it with her own hand. The contact sent a buzz through both of them.
“I really, really like you, Yolanda.” The surgeon beamed at her, fingers squeezing delicately around her own. “I like… want to be with you… or whatever. But.”
Yolanda’s face fell for the third time that day and her eyes met the ground. “You can’t treat me like that again.” She looked up immediately and nodded furiously.
She brought Trinity’s knuckles to her lips and kissed them gently. “I won’t. Ever again. I promise.”
“Okay.”
Yolanda took a step closer to Trinity, any distance between them finally disappearing. “Can I hug you?” Trinity blushed and nodded. Immediately, Yolanda’s arms enveloped her waist and she pulled her in, face tucked into the crook of her neck.
They breathed there together, for minutes, all of their fears dissipating into the air around them. Trinity rubbed her hands up and down the back of the other woman’s neck, stroking the damp baby hairs that coated her nape.
“I’m going to give you the stupidest petname,” she murmured, breaking the silence.
Yolanda laughed and pulled her head back slightly to look at her. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, I think I’m going to call you cheesecake.”
The snort that erupted out of Yolanda surprised them both as they dissolved into fits of giggles. “Sure, sweetheart, you can call me whatever you want. Just keep calling me.”
“Can do, cheesecake.” After nine months of uncertainty, unresolved tension, and too formal of names, they both finally had figured it out.
————————————————————————
One year later, on their official anniversary, they would celebrate, with a memorable dessert. “A cheesecake for my cheesecake, duh.”
“You’re ridiculous, cariño.”