Charlie Miller and Derek Shepherd are both neurosurgeons with massive egos, they constantly clash and argue in and out of the OR. The tension between them is very strong and disruptive for themselves and everyone around them. What happens when they...
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As I pull up the drive way into the parking lot, my mind is still worried. What if he is fucking someone else? What if he is cheating on me again?
These thoughts cause me to think back to when I caught him with another woman.
~~~~~
"I will tell him later, Nat." I say to her through the phone as I make my wayup the stairs to our apartment. "I know I am so excited too."
"Let me know how it goes?" She asks.
"Of course I will, but only if you tell me how your date with Sydney goes?"
"Fine. I'llspeak to you later. Love you, bye"
"Love you too"
As I hang up I can't help but smile to myself at the thought of seeing Jake and telling him the good news. When I get to our apartment, number 13, I put my phone in my pocket and get my keys out of my bag.
As I open the door, I can hear the radio playing, "light my fire".
Which remind me of my dad, he loves the doors.
I skip over to the kitchen and put away the shopping, whilst dancing to the song. Swaying my hips in time to the beat of the music.
I love dancing so much. I used to go out dancing all the time and find myself dancing everywhere. But Jake never really liked dancing that much so when we got togetherI stopped going clubbing with my friends and kept my dancing at home to a minimum.
I smile to myself as I get out the ingredients ready for me to make dinner.
Lasagna.
My favourite.
I start to cook the meat in a pan and chop up the onions, when the music dies down, I look forward to the next song but in the silence between them I hear moaningcoming from the bedroom.
No.
He wouldn't.
Would he?
I slowly make my way towards the door, trying to convince myself thatit's probably next door being too loud again.
I reach my shaking hand towards the doorknob, I grab the cold metal and slowly twist it, opening it. I push the door open.
