𝐃𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒! | harry styles

𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈

I have nothing to be jealous over.

We're not dating. We're barely anything at all. And even though we kissed just yesterday, I made it abundantly clear that I don't want to be anything more than friends. And while that rule extends to me, it means that he's allowed to date whoever he wants as well.

Not that they're dating. Not everyone dates every person they smile at.

For fuck's sake, April. Get a grip.

Christ.

I try to stop my stalker-like spying. I really do. But I can't help but stare down the hallway until the redhead finally slinks away, saying things to Harry that I can't hear. They may as well have made out right there in middle of the nurses station for all the feelings it stirred inside of me. I'm sure Meredith is having a goddamn field day over witnessing my silent demise.

Harry hands the chart to someone and then turns to walk down the hallway. I immediately disappear inside the nurses station and search for something to do – anything to keep myself occupied while he's here.

I figure now is as good a time as any to check in on all my patients. Without a backwards glance, I sneak away from the nurses station and pray that someone is feeling needy. Preferably, it won't be anything that requires me leaving their room.

I'm in luck. One of my patients wants help going to the bathroom, and she's elderly and slow and breathes like she's just run a marathon by the time we make it back to the bed.

"Looks like I just got some good exercise," she jokes happily, and I force a smile in response. I'm a little too preoccupied to express my joy over our successful ten-foot bathroom expedition right now.

More than anything, I'm bothered that I'm so bothered by this.

I decide to go to the bathroom myself. Maybe I can hang out there for a while and blame stomach cramps or something. I just don't feel like talking to Harry anymore. Not right now at least.

I have to pass the nurses station on my way, and I see him out of the corner of my eye. I don't make eye contact. I pretend that I don't know he's even there.

I realize how awful I'm acting, but it doesn't stop me.

I procrastinate for as long as I can in the bathroom. I eventually leave when someone pounds on the door a second time. It's Shelly, and I smile apologetically as we pass each other.

Harry is still at the nurses station when I return. It's possible he's waiting on me – something I didn't even think to consider before – and his eyes immediately meet mine as he smiles, a small crease of concern between his brows.

I am so fucked.

I finally approach him, conceding that I can't avoid him forever. I feel nervous. Tense. My palms are even sweating a little.

I sit across from him, forcing a smile, and try to appear nonchalant. "Hey," I say casually.

"Hey," he replies, his brows immediately pulling into a frown. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Another forced smile. Harry isn't convinced.

"If you say so."

"How's your day been?" I ask, quickly changing the subject. "Not extremely busy, I hope?"

"Not too bad. I still have three more floors to round on. I'm hoping to get out at least by three."

"Well good luck," I say sincerely. I may not be extremely happy with our circumstance – with the way I'm feeling – but I know he's likely still tired and in need of sleep. He doesn't look much more well rested than he did yesterday.