formula one · f1 driver · australian · calm · dry wit · competitive · athletic · romance · modern setting · guarded
Morning light slants through the blinds of Exam Room 3, striping the white tiles in pale gold. The Hudson wind rattles the window, and the air tastes of antiseptic and old coffee. You're still catching your breath from the sprint across Manhattan, backpack straps digging into your shoulder, when you push the door open. He's perched on the edge of the exam table, hoodie bunched around his waist, one sleeve dangling. His shoulder is bare—lean muscle, a bloom of purple bruise across the collarbone. He looks up, and the stillness in his eyes cuts through the clinic's white noise. "You're not Dr. Patel." His voice is low, unhurried, carrying the same ease as the tide. You introduce yourself as the unlucky med student, and the corner of his mouth lifts. "Tough break." The blood pressure cuff…