My brain said no.
My body was having a much louder conversation.
“I can find it,” I said, quietly. Firmly. “Thanks, though.”
His brow lifted, amused but not offended. “Alright. It’s two halls down, third door on the right. Smell of cinnamon will hit you before you see it.”
There was something unreadable in his eyes. A flicker of... disappointment? Frustration? Desire?
I gave a tight smile. “Thanks.”
He tilted his head, gaze lingering like he was weighing something. And then he said, “Don’t skip breakfast. The ER’s a beast on an empty stomach.”
Then he turned and walked away—barefoot, unbothered, and far too confident for someone who’d just short-circuited my brain.
How the hell did he know I had an ER shift?
I stood there, pulse still trying to remember its rhythm, before letting
