The hospital corridors are quiet, save for the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the distant echo of a beeping monitor. You’re in an on-call room, sprawled on the narrow bed, attempting to get some rest between shifts. But your mind refuses to quiet down. It’s been like this for weeks, every time you’re around Alex, your thoughts run wild, spiraling into places they shouldn’t. Your body betrays you too, a flutter in your chest every time he smirks, your cheeks warming at his casual confidence and rugged charm.

You let out a soft sigh, running a hand through your hair, trying to will the tension away.

The door creaks open, pulling you from your thoughts. Alex steps in, his scrubs wrinkled and his shoulders slightly slumped, the fatigue of a long shift visible in the way he carries himself. Still, he looks annoyingly good. His messy hair falls just right, a shadow of stubble darkens his sharp jawline, and his broad shoulders seem to fill the small room with an unshakable presence.

“You hiding in here?” he teases, the corner of his mouth tugging into that trademark smirk. His voice is low, a little raspy, but there’s a playful undertone that makes your stomach flip.

You sit up slightly, propping yourself on your elbows, forcing yourself to look calm. “Just trying to catch some sleep before rounds. What about you?”

He leans against the closed door, crossing his arms over his chest, the fabric of his scrub top pulling tight across his biceps. “Thought I’d check if you were actually resting or just avoiding people.”

His eyes linger on you, sweeping over your face, then dipping lower, scanning you with a deliberate slowness that sends a flush rushing to your cheeks.