Sorry for falling asleep. I didn’t want to wake you, so here’s all the cash I’ve got on me. Pretty sure I owe more, let me know how to get it to you. 646-555-0147.
—Jesse
I glanced at the bare slope of Finn’s shoulder and thought about adding another line. What, though?Last night was great—thank you.It sounded needy even in my own head. Not my style.
So I used the pen to fix the bills to the note, then crossed back to the bed to leave it on the nightstand. One last look at him—breathing slow and steady, lips parted and lashes like shadowed crescents—before I stepped away and out into the deserted hallway. Back into reality.
Ninety minutes until the start of my shift. Just enough time to head home, feed the birds, shower, and change. Probably not enough time to process that I’d paid a perfect stranger for the best night I could remember.
A temporary, hormone-induced mental blackout, a spark of chaos in a life I’d organized to glossy perfection—but not one I could really bring myself to regret.
THREE
FINN
The click of the door roused me. Ugh, rude.
I rolled onto a pillow that didn’t smell like me, exhaled, and went back to sleep.
The next time I blinked awake, sunlight slanted straight into my left eye. My brain spun slowly, a kaleidoscope of colors—swirling past pleasantly loose muscles and washed-thin sheets, the low hum of the AC and a mattress that was a little too soft and empty next to me.
Right. Hookup physics—hot bodies evaporate by dawn. Not that I was a pro. Except—well. Apparently, I could pass for one. Also, there was a note on the nightstand. A note and…
Cash.
I rubbed grit out of my eyes, shook my head, and reached for the slip of paper. Huh. An unnecessary apology for falling asleep, his number, and a hundred bucks.
Pretty sure I owe more.
Holy shit. I snorted. Then outright laughed, falling back against the headboard. God, the universe did have a sense ofhumor, didn’t it? One minute, I was a newly minted, just-got-dumped resident looking for secondhand confidence in a bar; the next, I was moonlighting as an escort who charged by the hour but forgot to keep time. Well, though—take that, Travis. Sloppy grinding? Myass.
Which was just a hint sore, on that note. In a good way. The kind I’d maybe mention to Eli back home, linked to a slightly edited recount of my first night in the big city. Or maybe not edited—that’s what friends were for, right?
I sifted through flashes of Jesse’s hand light around my neck, his green eyes sure and steady on me, the rush of water in the shower, tiles cold against my cheek. Thrusts that started slow and grew rough and urgent, his mouth open against my shoulder. Jesus.
Still—a twinge of guilt pricked the afterglow. Lying wasn’t exactly a habit I’d hoped to pick up along with a new address. I could text, clear the air.Hey, plot twist—not a hooker. Just someone who commits fully to bad choices. Sorry?!
And then…what? Grab a coffee, laugh about it, check if our spark carried into the harsher light of day? Yeah, no. I’d only just come out of a relationship and was about to start my residency, so this had train wreck graffitied all over it.
Clean break. Day-one orientation tomorrow, and I still didn’t know which subway would take me to the right stop without detouring to the airport.
Let it go.
On my way to the bathroom, I slipped the money and note into my wallet—emergency coffee fund, in case Devon Memorial offered the same sad brew they’d had in Pittsfield. The mirror showed eyeliner that bloomed into raccoon chic, and I gave myself a beaming smile because studies said that if the body faked it, the mind followed suit like a straggler to the party.
Showered and shaved, I dressed in fresh clothes and grabbed my phone, briefly pausing on my way downstairs to the hotel breakfast. A few notifications, including Eli’s advice to just hand over the money if I got mugged, my mom checking whether I’d arrived okay, and an email from the hospital to remind me of my agenda for the next five days—boot-camp week, starting eight a.m. tomorrow. Real life waiting outside the door, hourly rates abysmal.
I hesitated for a second, then checked the note and saved Jesse’s number. Just in case I wanted to send him a quick text after all—nothing big, even just aThanks for last night, I’m good with the balance.
Then again, it wasn’t like he’d be waiting with bated breath to hear from me. So, no.
I put my phone away and went to find coffee.
Much like Dr. Jekyll, Devon Memorial came with two faces: a modern wing that looked just like any other hospital in the country and a historic core with gothic arches that smelled like a blend of dusty books and antiseptics. For maximum intimidation, that’s where orientation week kicked off—echoing footsteps and high ceilings, narrow stairwells and erratic signage. Good thing I’d left early.
Okay. Final check of my slightly distorted reflection in the elevator. Polo shirt, a nice pair of chinos, and no eyeliner—absolutely zero hooker cosplay. Bring on the HR paperwork, hygiene lectures, and someone officially handing me a white coat.
Ready.
