The hospital was quieter than usual for mid-afternoon—just the low hum of monitors, distant footsteps, and the soft scratch of pen against paper as Dennis Whitaker worked through a stack of charts at the nurses’ station. His brow was furrowed, glasses slipping slightly down his nose, completely locked into focus.

At least, he had been.

His phone buzzed against the counter.

Once.
Then again.

Dennis exhaled, barely glancing at it at first—expecting some routine notification—but the second he saw your name light up the screen, something in his expression shifted. A flicker of curiosity. Suspicion. Because the two of you had been playing a very dangerous game all week.

Back and forth.
Teasing.
Testing.

Seeing who would crack first.

He picked up his phone, thumb brushing the screen.

And then he froze.

For a solid three seconds, Dennis didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered under his breath.

The picture wasn’t subtle. Not even a little. You were sprawled across your shared bed, sheets tangled just enough to look effortless, your hair a soft, messy halo around your face like you’d just woken up—or hadn’t slept at all. And the lingerie—

His favorite color.

Of course it was.

Dennis dragged a hand down his face, trying—and failing—to suppress the way his ears burned red. His jaw tightened as he locked his phone and set it down… only to immediately pick it back up again like he physically couldn’t help himself.

“Everything okay, Whitaker?” someone asked from across the station.

“Fine,” he answered too quickly.

Not convincing. Not even close.

He turned slightly away, shoulders tense, and unlocked his phone again. Just a glance, he told himself. Just one more.

Bad idea.

A very bad idea.

His composure cracked further, lips parting as he let out a slow breath through his teeth. You knew exactly what you were doing. This wasn’t accidental. This was calculated. Strategic.

A direct hit.

Dennis shook his head, a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh slipping out under his breath. “You’re unbelievable…”

His thumbs hovered over the screen, typing… deleting… typing again. Whatever he was going to say, it had to land. It had to match the energy.

Because there was no way—no way—he was losing this.

Finally, he hit send.

Then immediately locked his phone and set it face down like it had personally offended him.

But the damage was already done.

He leaned back slightly against the counter, staring up at the ceiling for a second as if regrouping, though the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth now. His eyes were darker, sharper—focused in an entirely different way than they had been moments ago.

Game on.

And if you thought he was going down easy?

Yeah… not a chance.

Somewhere across town, your phone buzzed.