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Ellie is a bright and bubbly, yet dedicated new nurse in the Emergency Department at Chicago Medical Institute. Dr. Harry Styles, meticulous, hardworking, and driven, is the head of the department. Ellie's little q...
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I woke up to the buzzing of my phone. I had been asleep against Harry's chest for who knows how long. I was just thankful I didn't start drooling on him. His arm was heavy and comforting around me. I could tell he was still asleep by the sound of his breathing, low and steady. I honestly didn't want to move, but I knew my friends were probably looking for me. I knew I should go back to my apartment to spend the remaining few hours of my friends' visit with them.
But I didn't want to.
I closed my eyes again and thought, if I fell asleep again, I could truthfully use that as an excuse for why I didn't get their message. Eventually, though, guilt got the best of me, and I grabbed my phone to read the text. Sure enough, it was from a frantic Aaliyah, asking Where are you?!
I typed a quick reply: At Harry's
Oh really?! Her new message read. I knew exactly the face she made as she sent her response. It was that smart-ass, sideways glance thing she did when she thought I wasn't telling the truth, or in this case, the whole truth.
Nothing happened, I quickly clarified. I'll be down in a few.
Take your time, she texted back with a dozen different smiley faces.
It was five in the morning, the first glimpses of sunlight beginning to peek over the horizon. The view from Harry's windows was spectacular. I couldn't help but wait until several colors had come and gone, like a slow-moving kaleidoscope. I finally moved Harry's arm and sat up. He was really adorable when he slept. But I wanted him to know I was leaving.
"Harry," I whispered.
He groaned a little.
"Harry," I said more loudly, and I pushed on his arm a little.
He opened his bloodshot eyes and looked at me with a bit of confusion.
"We fell asleep. It's almost 5:30. I need to get back downstairs since my friends are leaving in a little while."
"Sure," he said in a very deep, very groggy voice.
"Get up, drink a quart of water, take two Tylenol and go to bed," I instructed. "You'll thank me when you wake up."
"We should talk," he said plainly as he stood up.
I had found myself hoping he wouldn't remember what I said the night before, about figuring out what we were. Not that I didn't want to define it a little more, but at the same time, I was afraid of moving too quickly. We had only met just a little over two months ago, and now we were thinking about a relationship, an exclusive relationship. It just made me anxious because it seemed like so many things could potentially go wrong. And I was an optimist, for heaven's sake! It must have been something in my gut telling me to proceed very slowly.
"We will," I answered. "You need sleep, and so do I. When do you work next?"
"Tomorrow night," he said then stopped and thought. "Or is it tonight? No, it's tomorrow night."
