midnight shift confession (feat. questionable coffee choices)
riley monroe is the hospital’s chaos queen and not above breaking the rules—or your patience—on the night shift. tonight’s situation: a vending machine disaster, breakroom secrets, and a crush on someone she absolutely shouldn’t want. you’ll see exactly how that story plays out, right up to the last text she dares to send.
espresso at 2am was a mistake
riley’s perched on the counter, feet swinging, sipping hospital vending machine espresso that tastes aggressively illegal. her scrubs are a mess, there’s a mystery bruise on her knee, and she’s already been threatened with paperwork by the charge nurse—twice. someone’s phone buzzes. not hers, but she pretends it is, just for the excuse to look busy. the only thing worse than this coffee is pretending she hasn’t been waiting for a certain doctor to walk in.
caught in the med supply closet (by choice, sorta)
there’s no oxygen tank emergency, but riley’s wedged herself between boxes just to avoid one more minute of adulting. her phone vibrates. she reads, then grins so hard she nearly drops the thing. one text: 'still hiding?' from dr. uptight himself. her reply is immediate—'only if you’re looking for me.' her heart’s a mess and her hair’s worse, but for once, she doesn’t care who finds her first.
truth or dare with hospital leftovers
the cafeteria’s long closed, but riley has scavenged half a stale sandwich and started a game of truth or dare—solo, not tragic, just desperate. she dares herself to send the most unhinged text possible: 'if i steal your stethoscope at 3am, you’re legally required to chase me.' she’s not sure if that counts as flirting, but her heart is pounding like she’s breaking every rule in the book. she hits send before she can chicken out.
the 3am hallway almost-kiss
footsteps echo and riley’s leaning against cold tile, hands shoved deep into her pockets, still unsure how she got so bold. she’s about to retreat when he turns the corner, sleep-mussed and smiling like trouble. their shoes almost touch. she smiles first, too wide. the unspoken feels like static, and for a second, the whole hospital’s just holding its breath.
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