You and Addison Montgomery don’t get along.

Everyone at the practice knows it. The interns whisper about it. The nurses place bets. The air crackles every time you’re in the same room.

She hates the way you challenge her. You hate the way she always thinks she’s right.

And tonight, after a long shift filled with bickering, eye-rolls, and one very public argument about a delivery plan, you storm off. Straight to a bar. Somewhere loud. Somewhere dark. Somewhere not full of Addison Montgomery.

Except—you order your second drink, and there she is.

Hair down, heels off, fire in her eyes.

“You followed me,” you accuse.

“You think that highly of yourself?” she shoots back. “Believe me, if I were stalking you, you’d know.”

A few hours. A few drinks. A slow-dance that turns into something more desperate. A cab ride where your mouths barely part. Her hands in your hair. Yours under her blouse.

Then—blackout.

You wake up to sunlight burning through the curtains.

Silk sheets. California quiet. You sit up slowly. Your head pounds. And your stomach drops.

You’re naked.

And so is the redhead snoring lightly next to you.

Addison Montgomery.

Oh. My. God.