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“You know that I'm greedy for love”
Yolanda would be lying if she didn't admit that greed had always been part of her daily life. She always had that burning desire to possess and have the things she craved with such vigor.
Without shame in fighting, yelling, or even crying for it. If she wanted a doll and her parents stood in the way, Yolanda wouldn't think twice before going after it. If she wanted a medal just because she thought it was pretty, Yolanda had no fear of pursuing it, even if it cost her sleepless nights dedicating herself to something until she became good enough to earn that damn medal.
She was like that, and even with therapy, her yearning was never controlled, because her greed had no limits.
It was hers—it consumed her entirely, tore her apart from the inside out until it was completely filled and sated. And she learned to accept, control, and swallow every little spark.
Perfection, they say, is unattainable, but for someone so filled with greed, that was never a problem. It was a self-imposed rule Yolanda set to rein in her wild cravings, because those who know themselves well enough know what risks they can take with the certainty of good future rewards.
Signing up for the soccer team and becoming captain was easy; getting a scholarship to medical school, graduating with honors, winning medals and awards, landing her residency in the city where her family lived, specializing in surgery... Wow, her uncontrollable greed had been perfectly useful for all those achievements in her life and so much more.
The part that made her itch and pick at her cuticles until they bled and burned was that bullshit people called romantic relationships. For someone used to getting everything she wanted through sheer excessive dedication, Yolanda couldn't process the fact that she wasn't good enough to date someone.
And damn, she tried. There were plenty of one- or two-night stands in college; some clung harder to her skin, and she needed one of those scrapers for gum under bleachers to make sure every last trace was scraped clean from her own being.
But at that point in her life, at 33 years old, she had resigned herself to the fact that no matter how greedy she was, Yolanda just wasn't the type to fall uncontrollably in love with someone.
It was stressful having to admit that to herself, because she grew up surrounded by her parents' love, watched her siblings fall in love and build families as loving as hers, while she withered away among unknown bodies.
No one needed to know that, despite proclaiming to the four winds that she was happy being free, Yolanda sank into the misery of her own company. Because her greed wouldn't let her fill herself with love.
Apparently, she was too greedy for anyone to love her.
What a total load of crap, because hey, sometimes all a girl wants is someone by her side. And she did want that: growing up surrounded by passionate people teaches you, above all, to dream and yearn for it. So, for Yolanda, accepting that she was too much for the people she turned to was a huge pile of shit.
The little doubts always came on the toughest days, those irritating voices in her own head reminding her that no matter how far her greed took her, it still wouldn't be enough for someone to truly choose to stay—for her and with her.
Knowing it was a big problem and acknowledging it carried different weights on equal scales. Acknowledging it hurt, because it meant admitting to herself that when the doors of her own home closed after exhausting days, there would only be her, by herself, in the hollow silence that filled her walls.
So, when she started sleeping with the intern who dropped a scalpel on her foot, and suddenly two weeks of casual sex turned into sleepovers and pajamas, which evolved into shared breakfasts, park dates, movie nights, and beauty nights with her pet mouse, Yolanda got completely scared. Because those two weeks became ten months, and that constant yearning to be loved seemed to have been fully satisfied.
“Girl, you give me feelings; Never felt before; I'm making it obvious”
If someone asked her about the exact moment she fell in love, Yolanda isn't sure she could say. Because if she let honesty take over, she'd have to admit she didn't even realize how hard she'd fallen for Trinity Santos until she faced the shock of "almost losing her."
When she stops to think and reflect, she always reaches the same conclusion in the end: it was a series of small moments that gradually filled every edge of Garcia's greedy heart.
“By knocking at your door; I know that I'm coming tonight; You know I'm coming tonight”
It had been about a month since they'd started spending nights tangled up in each other, but only three weeks since both had allowed themselves to stretch out and relax their bodies side by side.
Yolanda wasn't used to making—or even having—breakfast with her flings, so it felt strangely uncomfortable, in an embarrassing way, to be sitting on one of the stools in Trinity's kitchen while watching the girl move back and forth at a familiar pace, preparing the first meal of the day for both of them. Observing and cataloging was one of the skills she prided herself on, so she cataloged everything interesting about the scene in front of her.
The way the wrinkled, oversized shirt slipped off one of the girl's pale shoulders, and how that paleness contrasted perfectly with the dark tone of her clumsily tied-back hair, offering a clear view of all the marks she'd painted herself on the girl's neck and traced with overwhelming calm over the rest of her body.
The athletic shorts hugged her waist in all the right places, accentuating the same curves Yolanda now knew how to describe with her eyes closed, along with the position of every tattoo that marked her skin with a different piece of the girl's personality.
The faint morning light filling the room seemed to fall entirely on that pale skin, as if it knew exactly the right spots to kiss. The bluish kitchen tile was just decorative backdrop that highlighted her silhouette—it was a lot to take in, so many marks she wanted to retrace with her fingers and silently claim, ensuring they'd be made and unmade by her and her alone.
"Hey, stop eating me with your eyes and grab the juice from the fridge while I finish these pancakes."
"You're so bossy for someone who was begging less than an hour ago." She had to dodge a dish towel after that, but if there was one thing she'd gained in the last few weeks, it was the pleasure of being the one to make comments that turned Trinity Santos red.
It was always satisfying to watch the blush flood the girl's face completely before she resorted to playful aggression or throwing something at her. Biting her own lip to stifle her laughter had become a fun, frequent little habit—one that was now almost unconscious. Trinity left her feeling a bit weak sometimes; maybe that was the power of good sex.
Yolanda couldn't hold back her smile as she opened the fridge covered in magnets and saw that her favorite juice was now on one of the shelves.
𝄞
It had been about three and a half months since they started seeing each other, and a routine had established itself over time. Their schedules aligned purposefully but discreetly. Most of the time, they spent it at Yolanda's house, taking turns making meals. By then, Trinity already knew where everything was in the house; the kitchen sometimes felt more like hers than Yolanda's.
It was always fun to watch, especially since when they spent time at Trinity's place, she made the rule very clear: "My kitchen, my stove, my hands"—which was basically a ban prohibiting Yolanda from cooking in her apartment.
It wasn't as if that stopped her, anyway. Today was one of those days leading up to a nice day off. The shift seemed to have dragged into the tenth hour; Yolanda felt ready to snap at any moment. She'd done four ER consults and only seen Trinity in one of them before getting stuck on the surgical floor with consecutive surgeries. With Emery and three surgical residents out due to a virus outbreak, things were hectic in the department itself. She was just grateful not to be one of the infected.
So, when she finally got a chance to head back to the Pitt, it was automatic for her eyes to scan the place for the girl before she got trapped in two consecutive cases again. After getting clearance from the surgical floor to send off the two patients, her relief was immediate upon spotting that familiar pair of eyes in the hallway.
Maybe her favorite thing about Trinity was how easily the girl understood what she wanted before the words even left her mouth. So it was easy to follow her discreetly to the break room and casually stop in front of the vending machine.
"Huck's going to the farm tonight, so you're coming over?"
"I'm coming tonight—you know that." Yolanda watches her laugh, and suddenly the weight of her day lifts off her shoulders before it's even over. She grabs one of the cereal bars from the machine and hands it to Trinity before heading out—it's that little dance of discretion they've been doing for three months in the hospital hallways.
"Eat. See you in a few hours."
𝄞
One of Yolanda's greatest prides is her car; she treats it like her own baby. No one drives it except her. Her siblings have asked a few times, Emery too, even her father has tried, but Yolanda is still the only person she allows to drive her own car.
So, after a hellish shift, she leans against her car while trying to think of the best options to get home. Her body is exhausted, and she knows it's too risky to even consider putting her hands on the wheel. But leaving her baby in the hospital parking lot still isn't her best idea.
"If you keep this up, you'll fall asleep standing soon, dear." That so-familiar voice pulls her out of her own daydreams. Trinity is about four steps away with a look Yolanda assumes is concern.
"Hi, I didn't see you there," she says, straightening her posture.
"I noticed. I hope you're not even thinking about driving this car in that state."
"I... I really wasn't going to do that. Maybe I'll just sleep here so I don't risk leaving him alone."
"Give me the keys." Wait, what? "Yolanda, the keys. I'll drive you, I can take your car to your house and make sure you get there in one piece." Trinity's hands are outstretched right in front of her, and damn, Yolanda finds herself pulling the keys from her pocket and handing them over before sliding into the passenger seat.
She knows if she tries, it'll be a losing argument, and not even her excessive care for the car will beat an irritated Trinity Santos. That's why she doesn't argue—yeah, that's the only reason, and because she's exhausted.
Yolanda watches the calm with which Trinity drives and how the night lights illuminate her even inside the car. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if the only person she lets drive her car is Trinity. No one needs to know that, and well... six months knowing each other like the back of her hand. No harm in letting her drive the car, that's it.
𝄞
Yolanda remembered fondly nicknaming days like these "lazy days." The essentials for a day to earn that nickname were characteristically: being a day off after a hellish shift, the healthiest meal of the day being a cup of tea, and of course, the main fact—lazy days were truly lazy only when she had a Trinity intertwined with her on the couch, doing her best to split attention between the video game and her.
Trinity had tried, unsuccessfully, to teach her some Nintendo games she'd brought over about two months ago and left installed on her TV. But none of the attempts worked out, and Yolanda much preferred keeping her attention on the myriad expressions the girl's face could make in such a short time when she suddenly dropped four places in a row in Mario Kart.
The only game she got "good" at was the damn Overcooked. But after six heated arguments while playing, they peacefully decided not to play it together anymore. It was a smart decision, if you ask me.
The day was almost over, and Yolanda found herself sinking into boredom while Trinity seemed perfectly happy playing—maybe for the fourth hour—the damn Mario Kart. Fine, it had been satisfying to watch her for the first two hours, but now Yolanda wanted attention—and she'd get it.
She had to hold back her own smile when the idea popped into her head. Trin was still completely oblivious, so it was easy to stretch out and pull the girl's legs, bringing her body on top of hers with an easy grab at the waist.
"What are you doing? I'm gonna lose the game!" Yolanda rolled her eyes at the girl's grumbles before adjusting her better on her lap and taking the damn controller out of her hands.
"You—" she said, peppering kisses along her neck—"have been at this for hours. I deserve a little attention." A bite was left on the shorter girl's shoulder, met with a soft gasp.
"You're so needy sometimes."
"Hmm, shut up. Let's just make out—it's way more fun than that."
Amid little laughs, clumsy kisses were exchanged. Yolanda felt happy there, with Trinity on top of her, in the small chaotic routine they'd built over the last 10 months.
"Shit, you bit me!" she complained, feeling the slight sting on her lips. "I would never do that." The two stared at each other before bursting into laughter. Well, it was hot and cozy there.
“Don't want to deny it anymore; Been in this state of mind; All night”
It took 10 long months and an explosion of jealousy for Yolanda to face reality about feeling completely owned by Trinity and wanting the girl to let herself surrender to her as something more than casual.
The word "casual" seemed like a simple joke when used to refer to their relationship. Dios mío, Yolanda felt dizzy just thinking about anyone touching her girl.
So, hearing Trinity talk so calmly about the excessive number of women hitting on her during today's shift made all her blood boil. Why the hell—what did she need to do for everyone to know the girl was hers?
She was no longer able to deny it at all, because that drunken state of mind over Trinity Santos already consumed her completely: every day, every damn night. She'd become greedy for her, wanted the guarantee that she'd be hers and hers alone, because Trinity might not know it yet, but Yolanda was already entirely hers—absolutely, from head to toe, body and soul.
"Be my girlfriend," she found herself interrupting the girl's musings, who gave her a surprised look. "What did you say?"
"Be my girlfriend." Honestly, Yolanda didn't know Trinity's eyes could reach that shade of green. "You're messing with me, Yolanda?"
"I'm not. Be my girlfriend. I... I like you, a lot. And I know we always talked about being casual, but I don't want that anymore, Trin. I want you completely, every part just for me." She could feel her own face heating up as she studied Trinity's.
"You... My God, Yolanda, you can't just drop stuff like that out of nowhere, damn it. You're gonna kill me one day."
"Is that a no?" Her own voice seemed to be fading.
"Idiot, obviously not. Damn, of course I accept, your girlfriend, Landa. I don't want to keep playing house and pretending we're casual for everyone when we both know we're anything but."
Greedy. Yolanda Garcia was completely greedy, but her greed was entirely satisfied when she was in Trinity Santos's arms.
I'm just physically obsessed; And I'm greedy; You know that I'm greedy for love”
“Te quiero, te quiero muchísimo, mi amor, con todo mi corazón, con todo mi ser”, Yolanda heard herself saying as she trailed kisses across her beloved's body before finally capturing her mouth.
Loving Trinity was the most beautiful and greedy act Yolanda had ever allowed herself to do, but more than that, allowing herself to be loved back was the purest proof of her greed for love—for Trinity's love.