Choices Open Heart - Blog Posts

You know what? Imma say it. I am so happy for the Bryce stand today that got their backstory at last.

sweeter than sugar

open heart third year: aurora emery x f!mc (emilia evans)

summary: just two girlfriends taking a break from studying to bake.

warnings: mentions of the maitotoxin attack, taking pills, very brief mention of survivor’s guilt.

word count: 1.1k

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

a/n: something quick i wrote last night. i miss aurora sm :(((

“Ugh… I need a break.”

Emilia slumps over the thick medical textbook, staring into the darkened kitchen. She had always wanted to be a doctor. Working half of her life towards this goal of hers has Emilia beaming when her fingers brushed against her very own Edenbrook Hospital photo ID. In this moment though, with the board exams fast approaching, she wants to bang her head against a wall and call it quits.

Unfortunately, her study buddy would never approve of such a decision, so she exhales slowly and wills to keep cramming her brain with medical knowledge.

It’s a quiet, late afternoon at the apartment. Sienna, Jackie, and Elijah have commandeered their spots at the cat cafe again, since last week’s study session proved effective. Aurora and Emilia, on the other hand, opted to stay home just because. Their schedules haven’t been lining up, so it was rare to pass by each other in the corridors, let alone sit down at the lounge to have a cup of coffee together. What’s a better way to spend time together than studying for the boards?

Just as her eyes start to go unfocused, Aurora pushes her chair back, standing up with a small huff.

Emilia pats the spot next to the empty coffee carafe, murmuring, “More caffeine please.”

“No,” Aurora says, “No more caffeine. We need actual food.”

“Objection.”

“I’ll make us something to eat. What do you want?”

At that, Emilia perks up. “I’ll come with.”

Aurora gives her a knowing look. Recently, she fell down a rabbit hole of wanting to master simple recipes. It was cute—worrying, as well, but mainly cute—because the driving force of her decision was Emilia.

“I wanna cook for you sometime,” Aurora mumbled one night.

They were cuddled together under the sheets, making small pillow talk after a particularly long day at work. Emilia had looked to her girlfriend, smiling warmly, “I’ll teach you.”

Suffice to say, that didn’t work out. The moment Aurora presented a clump of dark, withered bacon strips was the moment Emilia should’ve known. After several attempts and the setting off of fire alarms, she concluded that cooking was just not one of Aurora’s strong suits.

Now, Aurora gives Emilia a slight frown, saying, “I’m not going to burn down the kitchen.”

“Debatable,” Emilia quips, giving Aurora’s backside a gentle pat as she passes by her, “I adore you, but you can’t cook.”

Relenting with a small smile, Aurora follows Emilia into the kitchen and sets the coffee pot in the sink. As Emilia pushes her sleeves up, eyes sweeping across the kitchen counter for any potential ingredients, Aurora moves behind her and gathers her hair in her hands. She ties off Emilia hair in a low, loose ponytail, and peeks into one of the cabinets. There, she finds an array of cake mixes.

Emilia lets out an approving sound beside her. “Good idea! Let’s make chocolate lava cake.”

“This is Sienna’s,” Aurora notes, “Wouldn’t she mind?”

“I’ll repay her with cake.”

“If she starts stress baking and notices one of her cake mixes went missing, I wasn’t involved.”

They split up tasks and get to work in comfortable silence, ever so often murmuring to one another one about how good the kitchen smells with the aroma of chocolate in the air. Aurora insists on mixing the cake batter, so while she busies herself with that, Emilia makes the filling.

“Hey, ‘Rora,” Emilia calls.

“Yes?” Aurora turns, raising a brow in question.

“Try this.” Emilia holds up a spoonful of liquefied dark chocolate, cupping a hand under Aurora’s chin to prevent any filling from staining her shirt.

Aurora wraps her lips around the spoon and hums, eyes twinkling in delight. She nods. “It’s good.”

Emilia, pleased, breaks out into a smile. She added a small handful of sweetened shredded coconut, Aurora’s favorite. “I might just quit my job and become a chef now.”

Aurora lets out a small scoff. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Would you love me if I wasn’t a doctor?”

“You’d never quit your job.”

“Yeah, but, still. Would you?”

“Of course, Em. I don’t care what your profession is, I just want you.”

A wide smile spreads across Emilia’s face as she cooes, “Aurora…”

“Oh, stop.”

Ten minutes later, the oven lets out a soft chime. Emilia, with her oven mitts, removes the tray of ramekins and settles them on the kitchen countertop. All the while, Aurora pours themselves two mugs of milk. She takes a glance at the clock and pads into Emilia’s bedroom, returning with a bottle of pills in hand.

“Time for your meds, Em,” Aurora says. She fills a glass with water and hands Emilia two pills, stroking her back gently. “How are you feeling today?”

Emilia ponders the question with a small smile. “I’m good. The headaches have been mild lately.”

As a result of the maitotoxin attack, Emilia has come down with occasional headaches. It’s nothing too serious, but to manage the residual effects of the incident, migraines and guilt being the two biggest ones, she takes medications, and she goes to therapy. Emilia takes it one day at a time with Aurora right by her side.

She has been more than helpful, reminding Emilia to take her pills whenever it seems to slip her mind and acting as a human pillow whenever the headaches are almost unbearable. Emilia would tuck her face into Aurora’s shoulder. In turn, Aurora would circle her arms around Emilia, rubbing her back and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

With a swig of water, Emilia takes her medicine, flashing another smile at Aurora. “All good. Let’s eat.”

They push aside the sea of textbooks, files, and laptops to make room for the dessert. Through the floor to ceiling windows, Emilia sees the sun setting. The stretch of towering buildings and glittering waters against the fusion of orange and pink is a mesmerizing sight, even more so with Aurora placed before it.

Indiscreetly, Emilia snaps a photo of Aurora as she pokes a spoon into the cake. She turns her phone’s screen towards Aurora, beaming, “New lock screen. You look so pretty.”

Aurora, like her usual self, smiles shyly and lowers her head. “Shut up. Eat.” She raises the spoon to Emilia’s mouth.

Emilia isn’t sure if it’s because of the filling or the fact that it’s Aurora who’s feeding her, but the dessert tastes much sweeter than it should. She takes Aurora’s hand in hers as they carry on with demolishing the cake, the simplicity of it all warming her heart.

she’s coming back to us soon!!!!! <333 finally some good fucking food.

counting down the minutes

open heart second year: aurora emery x f!mc (emilia evans)

summary: aurora stays behind.

warning: mentions of death

taglist: @grapecaseschoices @sellmecandyrih @papinaveensbitch @lexas-ellarious @queensayeed @gaydisasterrr @queenelianar @avasbiceps @marmolady

a/n: dedicated to all my fellow aurora stans <3 pb make aurora a LI challenge

Only one person stays behind.

With a quick swipe of her hand against her cheek, Aurora steps up to the window. “You need to rest. Go lie down.”

Emilia had just vomited into a basin, wiping her mouth with a paper towel and waving a dismissive hand at her. “I’m…” I’m fine, she wants to say. In truth, fine is the last thing she is right now. She knows it, Aurora knows it. As if it would ease the nerves eating away at her, Emilia musters a weak smile at her girlfriend behind the window, who seems to be swirling together in a mix of colors.

It’s not until she blinks hard, easing some of the blurring in her eyes that she notices how distraught Aurora looks. She had sped to Edenbrook after Elijah texted her, only ducking into a nearby supply closet to cry in relief after seeing that Emilia was somewhat okay. The quick sob session warranted glossy eyes, splotchy cheeks, and permanent furrowed eyebrows.

Emilia looks away as her eyes begin to fill with tears. In the weeks following the softball game, this is the most vulnerable they’ve been with each other. The thought of speaking to Aurora through a window being the last interaction they might have with each other makes her stomach churn with guilt and regret.

After a moment’s hesitation, Emilia fogs up the window with her breaths and traces a heart into the glass. She offers a lopsided smile.

Aurora rolls her eyes with a small laugh, her cheeks growing warm. In return, she sandwiches the heart with an ‘I’ and ‘U’ and meets Emilia’s gaze with a sincere look.

The tender moment is utterly ruined as Emilia lurches, vomiting into the basin again. Way to go, she thinks. How romantic. She feels completely empty afterwards, like there’s nothing left in her to hurl into the basin.

“Sit,” Aurora says, face scrunched up in concern. She sinks to the ground.

Emilia does the same, pulling her knees towards her chest. She rests her head against the door and shuts her eyes. There’s a moment of silence as they both pause to take in each other’s presence.

Between everything that has happened today, Emilia really hasn't gotten a second to herself. But she isn’t so sure she wants that. She scans the empty, dark room and sees Danny vomiting and Rafael looking so frail, like he might shatter into a million pieces any second. And she sees Bobby’s still body and hollow eyes. And to think the two of them were just joking around hours before the whole incident.

Emilia’s throat grows painfully tight. “Aurora…”

“I’m here,” she says. “I’m still here.”

“I know. Tell me a joke?”

“A joke?”

“I need to laugh right now. I need to laugh… because I’m going to start crying again.”

“Okay… okay, I can think of a joke.” There’s a beat of silence as Aurora runs a hand through her hair, mulling over the simple request. She isn’t one for jokes but hell, if Emilia asks for the moon right now, she would start building a rocket.

“I remember this one joke a patient told me,” Aurora starts, tucking a chunk of hair behind her ear. An embarrassed smile tugs at the corner of her lips as she continues, “What do you call someone who doesn’t fart in public?”

“What?” Emilia asks.

“A private tooter.”

It takes a rather large amount of energy for Emilia to laugh, more in disbelief rather than humor. And when she does, the sound comes out like a cough rather than a laugh. “Did Aurora Emery just tell a fart joke?”

“To make you laugh, yes. It sounded rather painful, though. You really should lie down.”

“No, I… I feel a little better.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“Maybe I am, but I do feel a little less pessimistic. Thanks.” For a couple of seconds, Emilia forgets about the tarped walls and the unknown disease that’s making her feel like total crap. And then a wave of nausea hits her, bringing her right back down to Earth. She rides it out in silence and clears her throat.

“You wanna come in?” she asks.

“Can I? You want me to?” Aurora says. There’s a hopeful lilt in her voice, like she’d been waiting for her to ask.

“Yeah, I do,” Emilia says. As she speaks, she begins hauling herself to her feet. She staggers across the room, back hunched and head swimming, and clambers into bed.

The decontamination tent whirs. Minutes later, Aurora walks in with a bulky hazmat suit, smoothing down the plastic material at her sides. Emilia guesses she’s probably blushing, but she can’t really tell with her blurry vision and all.

“I look ridiculous, I know,” Aurora says, looking down at her attire, “but anything to keep you company.”

“You look fine. Cute even. Like a giant marshmallow.” Emilia says. She beckons her over and pats the empty space in bed next to her.

At that, Aurora laughs. A muffled yet clear sound. Not to be dramatic or anything, but Emilia thinks the dull throb in her head has subsided a little after hearing her chuckle. Aurora sinks into bed, facing Emilia with a soft smile. The two of them stay like that for a minute, staring into each other’s eyes and smiling softly. Emilia inches closer only to meet plastic against her nose.

Mustering a bittersweet smile, she takes Aurora’s hand. “I don’t even know how to thank you.”

“Thank me by staying alive,” Aurora says, giving her hand a small squeeze.

“I…” Emilia searches for her eyes behind the mask with her blurred vision. Aurora lays a gloved hand on her cheek, rubbing her thumb against Emilia’s skin. And the facade she has put up all day cracks. She digs her teeth into her lower lip to stop the oncoming of hot tears, but they spill down her cheeks, racing down to her chin.

“I know… I know. Cry it out.” Aurora whispers. Humming quietly, she wraps an arm around Emilia, easing her into a comforting embrace. She pats her back gently and rhythmically until her sobs are reduced to hiccups and sniffles.

“Danny and Bobby are dead,” Emilia murmurs. A shaky breath escapes her mouth as she says those words. Words that feel so surreal to say. “And Raf… his skin was so cold and he was barely breathing. What if he doesn’t make it? He saved me.”

“Look at me,” Aurora coaxes. “We have a handful of the best doctors in this country working on a cure right now. So don’t you dare give up when they haven’t yet.”

Her eyes are determined. There’s not a single shred of doubt in them. And for a second, Emilia starts to hope that maybe everything will turn out okay. Because they have to. She is not going to spend her last days on Earth curled up in a hospital bed, vomiting every three seconds and feeling like the human embodiment of TV static. Not when she has the most wonderful friends and colleagues working away to save her. Not when she has Aurora.

“I’m,” Emilia begins, growing teary again, “I’m so sorry about the softball game. I shouldn’t have yelled at y—”

Aurora stops her with a shake of her head. “Think about happy things, Em. Let’s talk about that over dinner after you get out of here, okay? My treat. Just… let me hold you.”

Emilia sniffles with a small smile, wiping the tears on her chin with her hospital gown’s collar. “What if Tobias and the rest of the team needs you soon?”

Aurora smiles. “You heard what I just said, right? I think they can manage without me.”

“But they’re missing one of the most brilliant doctors I’ve ever seen.”

“Yes,” she says, poking Emilia’s chest, “they are.”

She feels her heart leap at the gesture and scoffs playfully. “You are… magical, Aurora Emery.”

“Wish I was magical enough to cure you of maitotoxin.”  

“Wish I could kiss you.”

“I’m counting down the minutes.”

Emilia smiles as a lightbulb in her head pings. She kisses her fingertips and presses it to the area on Aurora’s mask where her lips are. Despite her blurred vision, Emilia is sure she sees her girlfriend grinning.

Aurora tucks her back into her arms. “You hang on, you hear me?” she whispers.

“I’m gonna try like hell for you,” Emilia mumbles back.

She closes her eyes. This time, she sees Aurora sitting across from her in a restaurant, wearing that one red dress she adores, grinning.

i’m writing an aurora emery fic where she stays back with the mc. pls let me know if u want to be tagged! <3

yea🥺💗

Bryce and Elijah: Please Dr Ramsey we really need you in the game!

Ethan: No. Just leave, nothing you can say will make me change my mind.

MC: Ethan could you plea-

Ethan:

*A ch 8 recap inspired by @choicesolivia 😂👏

Drink Had Me

Book: Open Heart, Book 2 Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks) Rating: Teen Category: Fluff Word count: 3.3K Prompt: Ethan has too much to drink and winds up on Sawyer’s doorstep in the middle of the night. Event: I’m participating in the Song Rewrite Challenge hosted by @choicesprompts. This fic is a rewrite of Drink Had Me by Jordan Davis.

🎵Hell, I was up to nothing

🎵Just sittin' home alone

🎵Yeah, I was gonna cash it in

🎵About to put down my phone

🎵And I had a message waitin'

🎵Them boys won't let me sleep

🎵So I told 'em I would meet 'em out

🎵And just have one drink

Ethan was mentally and physically exhausted. He could feel the stress he’d been carrying deep in his bones. His muscles sighed as he sunk into the comfort of his couch and rested his head on the back cushion. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, enjoying the peace and quiet of his empty apartment. 

He tried to push aside the thoughts that had plagued him. The budget crisis. The selfish billionaire. The competition with Tobias. The situation with his mother. But mostly, it was Sawyer that occupied his mind. He worried that the constant push and pull between them was nearing a breaking point.

She had recently gone behind his back and opened Pandora’s box. She compromised the team’s mission. She called him a “goddamn diva” in front of his colleagues. Worst still, it’s what she said when helping him set up his Pictagram profile. “It’s love, Ethan. It doesn’t have to make sense. I guess you just… feel it.” The words nagged at him constantly, and not because she was probably right - like she was right about everything else - but because he felt something. Something unfamiliar. Something scary. Something he hoped was reciprocated. 

DING! That sound used to annoy him, but now it made him eager to check his phone, because there was only one person who insisted on texting him. Quickly reaching for his phone, he sighed disappointedly when he saw the message was not from Sawyer.

Ethan groaned. He had forgotten that this morning, while working out with his gym buddies, he made plans to meet them at Donahue's for drinks and a game of pool. In an attempt to rouse Rafael from his suspension-induced funk, Sawyer proposed the night out. And in all honesty, Ethan only agreed because he saw it as an opportunity to spend time with her. It was only after he committed to attend that Sawyer bothered to mention she had prior plans with Stephanie, their coma patient.   

Ethan arrived at Donohue’s thirty minutes later and swore to himself he would only stay for one drink.

“... and then she said, ‘Oh, would you prefer to be called a spoiled child or an entitled jackass?’ You should have seen your face, man.” Baz, who had wandered over earlier to say hello, couldn’t contain his laughter as he told the story of Sawyer calling Ethan a diva to everyone gathered around the pool table.  

Rolling his eyes, Ethan ordered another drink while the guys racked the pool balls for another game.

“... speaking of workouts... Raf, remember when you asked Sawyer why she liked to work out? And she said because she wants to look good naked. Dude. Best response ever,” Bryce recalled with a laugh as he shared another round of tequila shots.

Ethan gladly accepted, swallowing the cheap liquor in one gulp when the memory of Sawyer standing in front of his bedroom window came to mind. 

Every time Sawyer’s name was mentioned, which was surprisingly often, Ethan put a glass to his mouth. Better that than inadvertently slipping and revealing something he shouldn’t.

“Okay, time for a round of Fuck-Marry-Kill,” Bryce announced, earning a groan from Rafael. “Since you’re so excited to play, Raf, you can go first. JLo, Shakira, Taylor.”

“Easy. Fuck JLo. Marry Shakira. Kill Taylor,” Rafael answered. After taking a sip of beer, he turned to Elijah. “Your turn. Lara Croft, Leeloo from Fifth Element, and umm… Jamie Lee Curtis' character in Halloween.”

“Damn, man. Uhhh…” Elijah twisted up his lips as he pondered his answer. “I guess I’d fuck Croft, marry Leeloo, and go all Michael Myers on JLC.”

Raising his hand excitedly, Baz jumped in. “Oh, oh, I’ve got one for Ethan… Harper, June, and Sawyer.”

The other men snapped their heads to Ethan, bracing for the explosive impact. But to everyone’s surprise, Ethan threw back another shot and answered without hesitation. “Fuck Harper. Marry Sawyer. Kill June.” 

Reggie made the announcement for last call, and at midnight he kicked everyone out, including Ethan. The inebriated men stumbled outside to wait for their rides. Ethan decided to walk for a while, and bid them good night. He strolled down the block until he reached the rose garden near the hospital. Resting on a park bench, he dug his phone from his pocket. But instead of dialing for a ride to take him home, he called Sawyer.

🎵But the drink had me

🎵Callin' you up, talkin' all crazy

🎵Talkin' 'bout us

🎵And catchin' a ride over to your room

🎵And keepin' your roommates up past two

Sawyer’s phone lit up on her nightstand with an incoming call, but she didn’t notice. She had fallen asleep a couple hours ago.

On the other end of the line, Ethan heard her voice. “Hi there, you’ve reached Sawyer. Leave me a message.”

“Sawyer,” he sighed before continuing, “I don’t want to lose you.”

Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees and stared at the phone screen. Sawyer’s contact picture smiled back at him. “I’m sorry I’ve been an asshole lately. I just… I want you so fucking bad,” he confessed. “I need you to be with me.”

He dropped his chin to his chest in defeat and growled. “But I can’t have you.”

He took a deep breath and lifted his head to look at her picture again. “I’ve been losing my goddamn patience with this situation. I don’t want to push you away anymore. It kills me to know that I’m hurting you, but I’m still afraid of what might happen if people find out about us.”

Ethan stood and held the phone at eye level as if trying to look her in the eye. “I feel like I’m on the verge of losing you, Sawyer.”

He began to pace back and forth and rambled on. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said a couple weeks ago. It really fucked me up, because I don’t think I’ve felt like this before.”

“God, Sawyer, you’re the best I’ve ever had,” he admitted, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want anyone else.”

He closed his eyes and whispered to himself. “Sawyer, say it back. Please say it back to me. I don’t want to be alone in this feeling.”

There was a long pause while Ethan stared at his phone, hoping for some sort of reply. “Fuck it. I’m coming over.”

<><><><><><><><><><>

It was nearly two o’clock in the morning when there was a knock on the apartment door. Sienna, who was still up baking, checked the peep hole and unlocked the door. “Dr. Ramsey! What are you doing here so late?”

His eyes were bloodshot and he smelled of whiskey and beer. The drink and exhaustion rapidly stripped away what little control of himself he had left. Ethan steadied himself with a hand on the doorframe and answered, “I need to talk to Sawyer. I need to see her. Is she here?”

Sienna invited him in. With her five-foot-nothing frame, she nervously guided the towering and swaying six-foot-four-inch sack of muscles into a seat at the kitchen table. “I’ll be right back.”

Gently knocking first, Sienna let herself into Sawyer’s room. “Sawyer? Sawyer, wake up,” she whispered loudly.

Sawyer awoke with a start, finding Sienna crouched at the side of her bed. “What’s wrong?” she panicked.

“Ummmm… Dr. Ramsey is here.”

“What?” she asked, confused.

“He said he needs to speak with you,” Sienna explained.

Sawyer threw her covers aside and stumbled out of bed wearing nothing but a t-shirt and underwear. She quickly checked the time on her phone, noticing the missed call and voicemail notifications from Ethan. “I swear to God, if he’s here to drag me out of bed for another diagnostics case…” she trailed off.

“I don’t think that’s why,” her friend said, leading her down the hallway.

Once her eyes adjusted to the fluorescent lighting in the kitchen, Sawyer spotted Ethan sitting at the kitchen table, his head buried in his hands. His body language reminded her of the times when he had felt pretty hopeless, like when Dolores died and when Naveen was sick. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Ethan lifted his head and let out a small sigh of relief recognizing her. “I wanted to talk to you,” he said, his voice tired and gravelly.

She followed his eyes to Sienna, who had gone back to her baking. “Let’s go to my room.”

Ethan stood and followed her down the hall. A sudden wave of dizziness washed over him and he threw himself against the wall to keep from stumbling over. Sawyer grimaced at the loud thump, hoping it didn’t wake her other roommates. She quickly tucked herself under his arm and helped him the rest of the way.

Just as her door clicked closed, Jackie poked her head into the hallway. “What the hell was that?” she called out.

Sienna came into view from the kitchen. “Sorry, Jackie, that was me. Sorry I woke you.”

“Do you ever sleep, Trinh?” Jackie yawned, shutting her door and going back to bed.

🎵The drink had me

🎵Wantin' one more

🎵Wantin' to forget what we broke up for

🎵And doin' that make up, wake up thing

🎵I just went in there to have one drink

🎵But the drink had me

Sawyer sat Ethan down on the side of her bed, then stood in front of him casually crossing her arms. “What’s going on? Did something happen? Is this about your mom?”

His head felt like a sloshing fishbowl when he shook it. Focusing on her bare feet, he attempted to ground himself.

Getting more worried, Sawyer stroked her fingers through his hair. “Hey, talk to me.”

Slowly lifting his head, Ethan’s eyes trailed up her long legs to the oversized Hopkins t-shirt she wore. “Is that my shirt?”

Glancing down at the heather gray tee, she replied with a hint of embarrassment, “Yes.”

Sawyer braced her hands on his shoulders to keep her balance when Ethan tugged her close. Standing between his knees, he hugged her tightly around the waist and rested the side of his face against her stomach.

“I miss you,” he mumbled.

A beat later his hands dropped to the back of her thighs. His fingertips lightly caressed her soft skin, eliciting goosebumps. Lifting his eyes to gauge her reaction, he slowly slid his hands higher, palming her backside and giving a gentle squeeze.

“Ethan,” she warned, gripping his forearms to prevent his hands from wandering any further.

“I want you,” he said, kissing her belly through the t-shirt she had stolen from him.

“Ethan, you’re drunk.”

“Say it back,” he whined.

“Say what back?”

“That you still want me.”

She sighed deeply. “Ethan…” When he looked at her with desperate, pleading eyes, she took a seat on his knee. “I want you too,” she repeated and cupped his cheek, “but not like this. Not a drunken mistake.”

“It’s not a mistake,” Ethan asserted. “I know what I want.”

She shook her head. “I know you, Ethan. You’ll regret it in the morning when you’re clearheaded.”

Ethan began to protest when the nausea hit. “I won’t… I–,” he paused and swallowed, “I’m going to be sick.”

Sawyer jumped off his lap and grabbed her garbage pail just in time. Ethan wretched the contents of his stomach while she soothingly rubbed his back. When he was finished, Sawyer offered him a tissue and a sip from her water bottle. She then knelt before him and removed his shoes and socks.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting you ready for bed. You’re in no shape to go anywhere right now. You can stay here and sleep it off.” As she stood, she reached for the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his head. “Scoot back and lie down,” she instructed. Ethan complied.

She met his hooded eyes, giving him a look of warning. “Don’t get any ideas,” she said before unbuttoning his pants. “Lift your butt.” After carefully tugging off his jeans, she neatly folded his clothes and set them atop her dresser. Returning to his side, she tucked him under the covers.

“Where are you going?” he murmured when she stepped toward the door.

“I’m just going to clean this up and grab you some aspirin,” she answered, picking up the small waste bin. “Do you need or want anything else?”

Ethan shook his head.

“I’ll be right back,” she promised with an assuring smile.

When Sawyer returned a few minutes later, Ethan’s eyes were closed and he was lightly snoring. She turned out the lights and crawled under the covers. Hugging the edge of her full-size bed, she resisted the urge to curl up next to him, and soon dozed off.

🎵Next morning came too early

🎵Heart poundin' in my head

🎵And it took me just a second

🎵To realize I know this bed

🎵And it ain't where I belong

🎵But you got my T-shirt on

🎵I blame the alcohol

🎵No, it ain't my fault

🎵The drink had me

Ethan’s head throbbed. The sound of distant, muffled voices had woken him. He cracked his eyes open, thankful for the dim surroundings. Blinking away the fog in his vision, he focused on the ceiling. There was something familiar about the dangling light fixture overhead. A single lightbulb hung from a rope cord. The gentle breeze that wafted through the window caused it to sway back and forth in a hypnotizing motion. Aware that he was not at home, Ethan’s eyes swept the small bedroom, taking in every detail. As recognition set in, his heart began to race, intensifying the pounding in his head.

Taking a deep breath through his nose, his senses were overwhelmed with the sweet smell of her. Daring to cast a quick look downward, he found Sawyer tucked into his side. Her arm was draped across his torso, her thigh across his waist, with a foot nestled between his legs. Ethan’s right arm was at her back, holding her close. His left hand gripped the back of her bent knee, as if he had been using the leverage to keep her locked in place. She was wearing his t-shirt, and he was only wearing underwear.

He reached into the black box of his mind for any remembrance, but came back empty handed. He didn’t know what to be more upset about. The eventual fallout from this reckless encounter, or the cruel twist of fate of taking Sawyer to bed again and not remembering a damn thing about it.

When her alarm rang out, Ethan silently cursed. “No, not yet.” He needed more time to figure his way out of this mess. More time holding her body against his.

Sawyer groaned in frustration as her phone sang a melodic tune of chirping birds. As she did every morning, she buried the tip of her cold nose into her pillow and inhaled. Only it wasn’t her pillow she smooshed her face into this morning. It was Ethan’s chest. His warmth and scent aroused her senses, and she was instantly awake.

Seeing that he was too, she pushed back from him and tried to cover herself with the forgotten comforter. “Shit, sorry,” she whispered, rolling away to silence her phone.

Her surprise and embarrassment confused him. “Why are you apologizing?”

She turned to face him, making sure to keep a safe distance. “I tried to keep to my side. I must have rolled over in my sleep and snuggled up to you.”

“Keep to your side? Did we not…?”

She shook her head.

Ethan looked up at the ceiling and expelled a breath.

Sensing his relief, Sawyer swiftly climbed out of bed. “I’m going to get ready for work. Your clothes are on the dresser and your phone is charging on the desk. My roommates should be leaving soon.”

“Sawyer-”

“It’s fine, Ethan,” she said, rummaging through her dresser drawers. “We can talk about it later when you feel better. Or if you prefer, not at all, because nothing happened.” Ethan rubbed the spot between his eyes. “There's some water and aspirin on the nightstand,” she pointed out before stepping into the hall and closing the door behind her.

A while later, they left the apartment and shared a ride to the hospital, successfully avoiding the topic of last night. They limited their conversation to simple questions and one-word answers, merely enough to get out the door and on their way.

“Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Sawyer said, and not waiting for reciprocation, she hurried away.

Ethan watched until she disappeared through the sliding doors of the hospital’s main entrance. He cursed at himself the entire walk to Donohue’s to retrieve his car. They may not have slept together, but he still ended up on her doorstep last night and tangled in her bed this morning. He hoped once the hangover cleared, he would remember why, so they could clear the air.

<><><><><><><><><><>

Sawyer was slow to leave the diagnostics office when their team meeting ended the next day. The tension between her and Ethan was so thick it felt like it could be cut with a knife. She couldn’t take it anymore. She turned to study him, watching as he stacked case files, doing his best to ignore her. “This feels like the morning after Miami all over again,” she finally spoke.

Ethan stopped what he was doing, took a deep breath, and braced himself for the conversation he had been dreading. “I’m sorry for inconveniencing you the other night.”

She shook her head as if she didn’t care about that. Shifting her gaze out the window, she bit the corner of her lip before speaking again. “Do you remember calling me? Leaving a voicemail?”

Ethan swallowed hard. He had checked his phone yesterday and knew that he dialed her number, but didn’t recall leaving a message. “No. I only remember bits and pieces after leaving Donahue’s.” He took a cautious step toward her. “What... what did I say?” he asked, trying to hide his nerves.

“It doesn't matter,” she sighed, still looking out the window, “you probably didn't mean it.” She downplayed her disappointment with a quiet chuckle, “I never pegged you for a sappy drunk.”

Ethan stepped in front of her, cupping her chin to force her to look at him. “I meant it,” he said firmly.

“You just said you don’t remember–”

“I don't,” he interjected, “but if the result was me showing up at your door, and waking up with you in my arms, then whatever I said… I meant it.” Gazes locked on each other, Ethan gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. He breathed a sigh of relief when Sawyer’s lips finally turned up in a small, forgiving smile.

That smile slowly changed to a mischievous one. Ceasing the opportunity, she started to back away as she spoke. “Well in that case…" She bit her lip to keep from laughing. “I want to get married in June. A fancy church wedding and a huge reception. Oh, and let’s honeymoon in Paris! It will be so romantic.”

“Funny–”

“But you should know, I plan to keep my last name,” she continued teasing.

“You’re a brat. Get out of here,” he demanded, playfully tossing a pen in her direction as she scrambled to leave.

“Hey!” she yelped, using the door as a shield.

“Oh, and I want my shirt back!” he hollered.

Poking her head back in, she offered a deal. “If you can get me out of it, Ramsey... it’s yours. See ya!”

A/N: Ethan's drunken confession was also inspired by the song Say It Back by Nicklas Sahl.

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