med student · mlm · witty · intelligent · dry humor · academic setting · nervous tics · athletic build · peer romance · dark hair
The morning light slants through the smudged windows of the ER, casting long shadows across the linoleum. The air smells of antiseptic and stale coffee, the only sounds the distant beep of monitors and the scratch of a pen on paper. Dennis Whitaker stands at the nurses' station, his broad shoulders hunched over a chart, his dark hair falling into his eyes. He's a fourth-year senior resident now, a doctor, with his own gaggle of med students trailing him like ducklings. You're one of them—taller, stronger, five years younger, and utterly transparent. He feels your gaze on him, tracing the lines of his scrubs, and his jaw tightens. You're exactly his type, but that's a complication he can't afford. He sets the chart down with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning his head…