𝜗𝜚˚⋆⭒˚｡⋆ in which aliya levine begins her third year of surgical residency with a particular green eyed rich boy, overbearing parents taunting her all the way from malibu, an ex who refuses to leave her alone, a chaotic best friend and a pair of t...
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chapter nineteen━can't fight biology season seven, episode four
❝ did she actually use the word hostile?❞
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"Crap!"
The brunette woman buried the heels of her palms into her eyes with a groan, the morning sun spilling into the room from beneath the curtains.
The man beside her's eyes flew open. "What?"
"Crap, crap, crap, crap!" Aliya spoke rapidly under her breath, her head still on his pillow that didn't even smell like him anymore, seeing as he slept on the right.
Which was convenient for her, seeing as she always slept on the left side of the bed.
This whole unspoken arrangement thing was working out very well for them, so it seemed.
And by unspoken, it meant that Jackson Avery didn't even bat an eyelid when Aliya Levine came into his room when she couldn't sleep at night.
"What!" Jackson now darted upright in bed, his eyes scanning around the room for some sight, any sign, of danger. "What's going on? Are you okay?"
"No!" Aliya cried, her hands falling down onto the bed sheets with a heavy sigh. "I forgot to do my laundry!"
Jackson paused, staring down at where she was tangled under his bed sheets. "You forgot to do your laundry? That's what's been keeping you up at night?"
"Yes, Jackson, that's what's been keeping me up at night." The Levine woman spoke with an over-exaggerated sigh, grimacing up at the ceiling that was now looking down on her as if it were mocking her for not being a very good adult. "I have no clean underwear! This is a disaster!"
Jackson smirked, despite the panic mode Aliya had currently switched to. "You can borrow a pair of—"
"Don't even finish that sentence." Aliya held up her hand, because there was no way she was going to wriggle into one of his boxers. "There's no way—"
There was no way in hell!
Jackson seemed to find her squirming pretty amusing as he settled back down into his bed, a smirk on his lips. "How long have you been up thinking about laundry?"
Her eyes flickered over to the alarm clock on his bedside table, reading 7:45am, doing the mental calculation in her head. "Um— maybe three hours? And, I haven't just been thinking about my lack of clean underwear, just so you know."
