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The living room smelled like sweat, hormones, booze, and desperation. For the third time since she arrived, Lilian wished she’d stayed home. Home was safe. Home didn’t stink of twenty-year-olds packed shoulder to shoulder. Home had her pathology and pharmacology notes, organized in neat rows with colorful post-its and highlighters.
Instead of that comfort, she stood there, tugging at the hem of her black blouse and smoothing down the emerald green skirt she’d thrown on last minute, hoping it made her look less like the exhausted second-year she was, and more like someone who belonged at a party.
Zuzu University allowed students to intern at Zuzu Sunset Hospital starting in their second year, which was her case. Four hours of classes, six hours following residents and attendings, and she’d get home around 8 p.m. with no energy left for anything resembling a social life. Most evenings ended with instant ramen and whatever was on television, her brain drifting somewhere between half-asleep and memorizing drug interactions.
And yet, when a third-year student invited her to a colleague’s house party, she’d said yes. He had messy brown hair, soft blue eyes, and a gentleness she wasn’t used to in the chaos of the clinic. Everything about him whispered reliable and hopeful. Lilian wanted to be close to him as much as she could.
She was debating whether to slip out the front door when she heard someone calling her name.
“Lilian?”
She turned. Harvey stood a few steps away, pushing through a knot of people to reach her. His hair was slightly damp, as if he’d come straight from a shower, but unlike everyone else, he didn’t reek of sweat. He wore a blue vest over a pale button-down, the collar slightly crooked in a way that somehow made him more endearing.
“There you are,” he said, relief softening his features. “I was starting to think I’d missed you.”
Harvey’s smile broadened when he reached her, and the strange thing was how the room seemed to get quieter around him. The music still pounded, people still shouted across the living room, but his presence cut through it all like a warm current in cold water. Lilian felt her shoulders loosen without her permission.
“I’m really glad you made it,” he said. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to come after such a long week.”
Her stomach fluttered — a soft, swooping feeling she wasn’t prepared for. She shrugged, trying very hard not to stare at the way his damp curls clung to the rims of his glasses. “I… figured I could try being social for once.”
He laughed. That gentle, low sound tightened something in her chest. “Dangerous choice. This place is a mess tonight.” When he tilted his head, she felt the air shift, like he was giving her his full attention despite the chaos around them. “So… what do you think of the hospital so far? Now that the semester’s officially over.”
She hesitated. The truth sat heavy on her tongue. “It’s… challenging.”
He didn’t dismiss it. He didn’t chuckle or wave it off like most people did when she admitted she was struggling. He looked at her — really looked — eyes narrowing just slightly, as if adjusting focus. She felt his attention like warmth against her skin.
“Challenging how?” he asked, leaning in so she could hear him. The closeness made her pulse tick faster, loud in her ears.
In her mind, the answer tumbled out in a messy, frantic rush: Well, I wanted to be a doctor because I thought it would be easy money, but I forgot I’ll actually have a person’s life in my hands, so now I have to study everything, and everyone else seems to be handling it better than me, and they all have this natural patience and desire to learn that I’m not sure I have—
Instead, she swallowed all of that and said softly,
“All of it. The pace, the hours, the responsibility. It’s a lot.”
For a moment, there was no party, just the way he studied her face, understanding written so clearly in his expression it made her throat tight.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “It is. But you’re handling it better than you think.”
Heat rose in her chest, up her neck, blooming across her cheeks. She tried to pretend it was the temperature in the crowded room, but the way he was looking at her made her doubt that.
His gaze drifted to her empty hands. “So, why aren’t you drinking?”
Lilian lifted a brow, grateful for the distraction. “Because I refuse to waste my precious liver on cheap beer.”
His laugh burst out bright and delighted, crinkling the corners of his eyes. The sound hit her like a spark, unexpected and warm.
“Fair point.”
She barely had time to enjoy it before someone slammed into her side. A drunk guy, swaying so violently his cup tipped, beer arcing straight for her emerald green skirt—
Harvey’s hand closed around her forearm in a swift, sure motion, pulling her back before the liquid touched her. Her heart lurched, not from fear, but from the sudden closeness, the strength in his grip, the instinctive way he moved to protect her.
The guy stumbled off with a slurred apology.
Lilian blinked up at Harvey, still feeling the imprint of his hand, heat blooming under her skin.
“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice dipping low in a way that made her chest tighten again.
“Yeah. Thanks.” Her voice came out smaller than she intended.
He released her slowly, fingers brushing her skin as if he wasn’t ready to let go. When he smiled again, it was a secret thing, a little crooked, a little mischievous.
“Come on,” he murmured. “I know where the guy who lives here hides the real alcohol.”
She lifted her eyebrow, trying —and failing— to hide her smile. “You’ve memorized the secret stash?”
“Mm-hm.” He leaned closer, breath warm near her ear. “He hides the wine behind the cereal boxes. Amateur move.”
Her stomach swooped again, a soft, helpless dip. She let out a low chuckle she hadn’t realized she was holding back, tension melting from her shoulders as he guided her through the crowd.
The kitchen was mercifully quieter, the music only a distant thump through the walls. Someone had left the overhead light on low, tinting everything a warm gold. Harvey went straight to a cabinet above the fridge, stretching on his toes to reach behind the cereal boxes. When he brought down an unopened bottle of red, he looked absurdly proud of himself.
“Told you,” he whispered.
Lilian snorted. “I can’t believe you actually knew.”
“You underestimate my survival instincts.” He twisted off the cap, took the first swig, then handed the bottle to her.
The wine was terrible, too dry and too warm, but it tasted like possibility. It tasted like being twenty and tired and wanting to laugh anyway. She felt the buzz hit her almost immediately — a soft looseness spreading through her chest.
They stood side by side, leaning against the counter, passing the bottle back and forth until it was half-empty and their conversation drifted into strange, honest territory.
“So,” Harvey said, toeing the floor, “goals. What do you want out of all this? Med school, clinics, collapsing from exhaustion under mountains of paperwork…”
His tone was joking, but his eyes focused on her like she was the only person in the house.
She shrugged, feeling warm from more than just wine. “You first.”
“Unfair.” He laughed, but he took another sip anyway, like he needed courage. “Okay. Well… I always wanted to be a pilot.”
Lilian blinked. “Seriously?”
He nodded. “Yep. Big aviation phase. Posters on the wall. The works.” Then he tilted his head, smiling at himself. “But I’m terrified of heights, so that dream kind of… stayed buried.”
She took the bottle from him. “Yeah, you know, planes and med school—totally the same career path.”
He laughed — a soft, breathy sound — and leaned slightly closer, as if her teasing made him want to be nearer. “See, you get it. Completely related fields.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes dropping for a moment before lifting again, vulnerable in that way he got when he was being honest.
“I don’t know. I wanted to help people. I wanted to be someone reliable.”
Lilian paused with the bottle halfway to her lips. You already seem reliable, she thought. More than reliable. Steady. Warm. The kind of person who changes the atmosphere of a room just by stepping into it.
She drank, then handed the bottle back to him.
He accepted it but didn’t drink right away. “What about you?” he asked gently. “What did you dream about?”
Her pulse stumbled. She couldn’t tell him the truth — that she was here for money and stability, that her mother deserved a life without fear and sacrifice. That wasn’t a dream. That was survival.
So she gave him the closest version that didn’t feel like a lie.
“I want to be a shrink,” she said, voice light, casual. “Help people figure themselves out.”
Harvey took a sip, but his eyes stayed on her over the top of the bottle — soft, curious, something else she couldn’t name. Something warm.
He passed the wine back to her, fingers brushing hers. The touch was small, barely anything, but it sent a quick, electric awareness up her arm.
Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the dim kitchen light. Maybe it was how close he stood without seeming to realize it.
Or maybe — and she wasn’t quite ready to admit this, even to herself — she was a little bit attracted to him.
They kept drinking.
The bottle in their hands grew lighter, the wine disappearing faster than either of them meant it to. When Lilian tilted it back and nothing came out except a thin drip, Harvey blinked at it like the bottle had betrayed him.
“I’ll get another,” he said, already turning toward the cabinets again.
She watched him stretch up to the top shelf, balancing on the tips of his shoes, fingers searching past cereal boxes and dusty jars until he pulled down another bottle with a triumphant little grin. The sight made something warm bloom in her chest.
They leaned against the counter again, trading the freshly opened wine between sips. As the new buzz settled over them, Harvey slipped into a comfortable ramble. He gave her gentle, half-slurred tips about the professors she’d meet next semester—how Dr. Evans liked students who asked specific, nerdy questions; how the seminar topics seemed scary but weren’t; how showing interest in cardiology earned easy points with the residents. He spoke like someone who genuinely wanted her to do well. Like someone rooting for her.
The wine loosened her tongue, loosened something else too. So between a long sip and passing the bottle back, she asked, “Okay. Tell me hospital gossip. Who do you think is sleeping with who?”
“Dangerous territory,” Harvey muttered, shaking his head. But she saw the smile he was trying —and failing— to hide.
“Come on,” she coaxed, stepping a little closer. The kitchen felt smaller now, the air warmer. Without overthinking it, she laid her hand deliberately on his arm.
Harvey’s breath caught just slightly. He glanced at her hand, then at her, that ghost of a smile still hovering on his lips. He didn’t pull away. And she didn’t take her hand back.
He opened his mouth—maybe to actually answer her—but voices burst down the hallway. Loud. Rowdy. Two people arguing over who had dibs on the kitchen, and another couple giggling suspiciously, clearly on the hunt for a counter to defile.
Harvey shut his mouth, grimacing. “I think they also knew about the wine.”
Lilian raised her eyebrows. “Or maybe want to fuck on the counter.”
“Or both,” he whispered, horrified.
More footsteps. Someone jiggling the doorknob.
Harvey bent toward her, dropping his voice lower. “There’s a bathroom upstairs. No one’s using it. We can… continue this conversation there.”
Her heart thudded once, sharp and fast. She nodded. “Yeah. Good idea.”
She grabbed the bottle by the neck, wine sloshing gently inside, and the two of them slipped out of the kitchen before anyone could stop them. Up the stairs. Away from the noise. Away from everyone else.
And together.
The bathroom was small, dim, and mercifully quiet. As soon as Harvey closed the door behind them, Lilian leaned back against the sink, bottle still in hand.
“So,” she said, raising her eyebrows, “who is doing who?”
Harvey tried — he really tried — not to laugh. His lips pressed together, his shoulders shook, and the sight made her want to burst into laughter too, just because of how hard he was fighting it. The tension of the party melted into something lighter, sillier, warm around the edges.
She took another sip. He reached for the bottle. She pulled it back.
“Only if you tell me.”
Harvey threw his head back and laughed. Really laughed. The kind that curled his whole body, that made his eyes water, that made Lilian feel like she’d just won something she didn’t know she was competing for.
“Fine,” he said between breaths. “Fine. I think Lucian is sleeping with Dr. Evans.”
Lilian blinked. Lucian. The tall, brown, broad, gorgeous fourth-year resident. The one who looked like a goddamn womanizer.
“Shut up,” she said. “You’re lying.”
“I assure you I’m not.” And with that, Harvey plucked the bottle cleanly from her hands and took a long drink.
She watched him, warmth pooling in her stomach — part wine, part something dangerously close to courage.
Her mouth moved before she could stop herself. “Are you sleeping with anyone?”
The words didn’t feel like hers. They came out bold, reckless, like someone else had taken over her tongue. Her heart leapt into her throat.
Harvey was still drinking, eyes on her. But he wasn’t looking at her eyes. It felt like he was looking at her mouth.
Seconds stretched. Stretched again. Her pulse became the only sound she could hear.
Finally— “No,” he said quietly. “I’m not.”
He handed her the bottle.
She took it. Set it gently on the sink behind her.
Her hands were moving before she even realized it — rising, hesitant, then firmer, cupping his face between her palms. His skin warm, smooth, flushed with wine and closeness.
And then she kissed him.
Soft at first. Testing. Asking without words. She pulled back just enough to look at him — eyes wide, apology tangled with want, like she wasn’t sure if she’d crossed a line.
Harvey didn’t make her wonder. He caught her face with both his hands and kissed her back.
His lips were impossibly soft. She wondered if it was because he had no facial hair — nothing to scratch, nothing to distract from the silk of his mouth. His face smelled clean, warm, a little sweaty from the crowded house, and his mouth tasted like cheap wine and something sweeter beneath it.
He parted her lips with his tongue, unhurried, careful, like he was asking permission even as he kissed her deeper. His tongue brushed hers — a gentle caress that made her knees weaken.
Harvey pressed his body against hers, guiding her back until the sink nudged her hips. She slid her hands into his hair, fingers tangling in still-damp curls. One of his hands moved down the curve of her spine to her lower back, steadying her, drawing her flush against him.
Somewhere far away, she heard noises — voices in the hall, a fist knocking impatiently at the door. Someone who wanted to pee. Or throw up. Or scream at them to hurry up.
She didn’t care. Nothing existed except him.
Between kisses, breathless and warm against her lips, Harvey whispered:
“You have beautiful eyes.” Another kiss, deeper. “They look like almonds.”
Her breath caught. Her hands tightened in his hair. The world outside the bathroom kept knocking — vaguely irritated, impatient — but she stayed exactly where she was.
Pressed against him. Kissing him back. Not wanting the moment to end.
When she finally opened her eyes, his glasses were fogged and slipping down his nose. Harvey huffed a breathless laugh against her mouth — and then his hands moved to her hips, firm, sure, pulling her closer until her feet nearly left the ground.
Before she could think, Harvey’s hands slid to her hips, steady and intentional, drawing her closer until her knees brushed his. His breath shuddered against her cheek, warm and uneven. The tiny bathroom felt even smaller, as if the air had thickened around them.
Lilian felt the heat of his body through her clothes, felt the tension in his shoulders as he pressed his forehead briefly to hers — a silent moment of decision, of want, of yes. His fingers skimmed the fabric at her waist, the faintest tug, enough to make her pulse jump and her mouth part on a quiet inhale.
The way he touched her wasn’t rushed, but there was an urgency threaded through it, something restrained and fraying by the second. She clutched his shoulders, her head tipping forward, her breath catching as the careful space between them disappeared inch by inch.
Instinct took over, and she found her hands moving to his pants, unzipping it. She felt his length hard, and she heard a gasp. Then he lifted her, like he was savoring the feeling of her body rising into his. Her hands moved up, curled into his hair for balance, for closeness, for something she didn’t have words for. Their noses brushed; his lips grazed the edge of her jaw.
Her legs instinctively wrapped around him and he was inside of her. It felt less like a reaction and more like a truth settling into place, her body fitting against his like a long-overdue answer.
The kiss deepened, messy and hungry and honest. His mouth moved with hers, or maybe hers with his, she couldn’t tell who was leading anymore. She tasted wine, and something warm and unmistakably Harvey. Her hands dragged up his back, feeling muscle and heat through the thin fabric of his shirt. She fumbled with the hem, wanting him closer, wanting more.
“Fuck,” Harvey breathed, the word barely a sound, more like an exhale against her throat.
Their bodies moved in a rhythm she didn’t think about, didn’t guide — it simply happened, urgent but unhurried, like they’d stepped into a space outside of time. Her head dropped back for a moment, her breath catching on a small, broken sound, and he caught her by the waist, holding her steady, grounding her even as everything else inside her felt like it was dissolving.
For a heartbeat — or several — it was only the two of them, the sharp rise and fall of breath, the heat of his body, the closeness that left no doubt what they were doing. What they were giving into.
When release hit her, it felt like something unwound inside her chest, a knot loosening all at once. A second later Harvey followed with a soft, helpless sound against her neck, his grip tightening, his forehead dropping to hers. She thought for a moment he might lose his balance, but his hands stayed steady, strong, holding her like he had no intention of letting go.
They stayed like that, suspended, for what could have been seconds or hours. Then, Harvey eased back just enough to look at her. His glasses were crooked. His hair a complete disaster. His smile… god, his smile.
“Hi,” he whispered, breathless, still catching up.
Lilian felt the echo of a laugh in her chest. “Hi. I think we should get out of here.”
☕︎
Harvey could still feel her—actually feel her—the ghost of her weight pressed against his body, the warmth of her thighs under his palms, the faint scent of her shampoo clinging to his shirt. All of it stayed with him long after the bathroom door swung shut behind them.
The hallway outside the party was cooler, and the sudden draft made the moment feel even more unreal. After Taylor, one of the residents, caught them, the scolding—flustered, stern, mortifying—still rang faintly in his ears, but even that seemed distant compared to the pulse of adrenaline buzzing beneath his skin.
Outside, the night wrapped around them with a kind of gentle indifference. The muffled hum of the party—music, laughter, clinking bottles—leaked through the thin windows, fading a little more with each step they took.
“Can I walk you home?” Harvey asked, trying to sound casual and failing entirely. “You live close to the dorms, right?”
Lilian’s posture shifted—shoulders tightening, chin ducking a little. She crossed her arms, rubbing her hands over her elbows like she couldn’t decide whether she was cold or uncomfortable. Her body language was closed off, but not in a way he could decipher cleanly. Maybe embarrassed from being caught. Maybe shy. Maybe…
Maybe regretting what happened.
The thought squeezed something in his chest. He hoped it was just because they’d been scolded like teenagers, and not because they’d been pressed together, half-dressed, minutes earlier.
“I—yeah.” Her voice came out small, almost lost in the night air. Then a beat later: “Yeah, I’d like that.”
He nodded, terrified that if he opened his mouth he’d say something catastrophically stupid. They started walking. Their footsteps echoed softly on the pavement, slow and uncertain, like both were trying to match the other’s pace without drawing attention to it. He kept his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He didn’t trust them not to tremble, or worse, to reach for her.
Harvey didn’t mind silence. He’d spent all of high school terrified of saying the wrong thing, so quiet had always been something of a refuge. But now he’d discovered a new kind of quiet: the uncomfortable kind, the one that gave his brain room to invent worst-case scenarios.
He liked her. He caught himself watching her during lunch at the hospital, how she listened more than she spoke, how she gave attention so generously but rarely offered anything about herself. She listened so intently. She made people feel heard. It made him feel strangely lucky on the occasions she chose to talk to him.
He liked Lilian. He really hoped he hadn’t ruined all of that because he couldn’t control his own impulses. Yes, he’d asked her to the party because he wanted to see her outside the hospital, but he hadn’t expected… that. He wasn’t against it—in fact, it had been more than welcome—but he hadn’t invited her just for that. If the night had gone well, he’d planned to maybe, eventually, try asking her out properly.
A soft breeze swept down the street, carrying the faint smell of fried food from a late-night vendor. Lilian’s skirt fluttered lightly around her legs. She tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear, her gaze fixed on the ground ahead.
“You didn’t, uh…” Her voice broke the silence unexpectedly. “You didn’t manage to steal another bottle of wine before we left, did you?”
Harvey blinked. Her tone was light. Light. That alone eased the tight coil in his chest.
He shook his head. “Sadly no. Not skilled enough for a covert extraction under pressure.”
She huffed a soft laugh, looking ahead instead of at him. “Shame. I’m sorry we had to leave.”
“It’s not like we were kicked out,” he offered.
“Maybe not, but it was… awkward. After we were almost caught?” She darted a quick glance his way—just a flicker—and the corner of her mouth twitched. “Mostly my fault. I basically seduced you.”
Harvey stopped walking for a moment, his laugh bursting out too suddenly to control. Lilian slowed, confused, before he caught up again.
“I’m sorry,” he said, still smiling, still breathless. “You seduced me?”
“Why is that funny?” she demanded, trying—and failing—to look offended. She attempted to raise one eyebrow. It didn’t budge, but the effort made her mouth twitch again.
“It made it sound like I didn’t want it as much as you did,” he replied, and instantly felt heat creep up his neck.
Maybe I wanted it more, he thought.
Lilian rolled her beautiful almond-shaped eyes. God, she was beautiful—almond shaped eyes, auburn hair, that green skirt. He wondered if she had any idea how completely she dazzled him.
At the hospital, he’d often seen her trailing after residents and older interns, pen tapping against her lips, eyes narrowed in concentration as if memorizing everything spoken. There were few things he wouldn’t trade for even a fleeting glimpse of whatever she was thinking in those moments.
They walked on. The distant music faded into a low throb behind them. A bus passed, headlights brushing over her face, softening her features. Her eyes looked more brown than gray in the artificial glow.
She was stunning. And he was so very screwed.
“How’s being a third-year?” she asked eventually, voice quiet. Maybe shy. Maybe thoughtful.
“It’s… fine,” he said. “I’m finally allowed to perform surgery, if Dr. Evans is watching. You’ll love it next year. Or maybe not, since you want to go psych.” He risked a tiny smile. “Surgery might bore you.”
Or I might. The intrusive thought was sharp enough to make him swallow uncomfortably.
Lilian slowed, chewing the inside of her cheek.
“Do you ever feel lost?” she murmured. “Like you’re exactly where you thought you wanted to be, but it still feels…” She lifted a hand, searching for the word. “Unreal?”
The question was soft but heavy, like a stone gently placed in his palm. He almost stopped walking. Lost wasn’t quite right. More like… delayed. Like everyone else was already halfway to becoming who they were meant to be, and he was sprinting to catch up. He could see the path ahead; finishing med school, becoming a doctor, being useful. It wasn’t confidence; it was just that he couldn’t fathom the idea of failing.
He wasn’t going to be a pilot. He couldn’t fail at this too.
“I think so,” he said, wanting desperately to offer comfort. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“You were inside me less than an hour ago,” she said, deadpan. “I think we’re past secrets.”
He snorted, biting back another laugh. The memory of her breath against his neck in that cramped, dim bathroom buzzed through him like electricity. God, he’d do anything to be back in that bathroom with her.
He leaned in, lowering his voice as if he were about to reveal forbidden truth. He avoided looking at her lips with great effort.
“All of us feel lost,” he murmured. “It gets better eventually.” He hesitated. “Or so I’ve been told. I’m still waiting for that part.”
Lilian’s laugh was soft and warm and utterly disarming, and Harvey felt it all the way to his ribs. He felt absurdly lucky just to occupy the same street as her.
They walked the last two blocks in a silence that felt different—less strained, more thoughtful. The city hummed around them: a passing car, a dog barking somewhere, a plane blinking its way across the sky.
“That’s my building,” she said, pointing across the street.
They stopped together at the curb. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, then looked up at him through her lashes.
“Thanks for tonight. I had fun.”
Harvey rubbed his neck, suddenly shy. “Me too.”
For a moment, neither moved. Her eyes lingered on his. His chest felt too tight, too full, like he had to either kiss her or combust on the spot.
But then, before he could decide if it was the right moment to kiss her or not, she stepped back, turning toward the crosswalk.
“Night, Harvey,” she said, not looking back.
His voice barely made it past his throat. “Night.”
He watched until the building swallowed her whole, until the lobby light flicked off behind her. Only then did he pull out his phone to call a cab.
He would remember this night for the rest of his life.
