Page 22 of Christmas On Call
“So,” Max said finally, voice carefully casual. “New Year’s Eve. Any resolutions?”
Asha almost laughed. “I don’t usually make them.”
“Why not?”
“Because resolutions imply you need to change something about yourself. I prefer incremental improvements based on measurable outcomes.”
Max’s lips twitched. “Of course you do.”
“What about you?” Asha asked, surprising herself. “Do you make resolutions?”
“Sometimes.” Max stared into her coffee. “This year I’m thinking... maybe be braver. Say the things I’m afraid to say. Stop waiting for perfect timing.”
Asha’s pulse quickened. “That sounds interesting and terrifying.”
“It is.” Max looked up, and her green eyes were steady, unflinching. “But I’m tired of being scared.”
The words hung between them, weighted with meaning. Asha felt her careful control slipping, felt the walls she’d spent five days rebuilding start to crumble.
“Max—” she started, but Max shook her head.
“You don’t have to say anything. I just—I needed you to know.” She took a breath. “I know you’re scared. I know this is complicated. But I really want you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Asha’s hands trembled around the mug. She wanted to say something—anything—but her throat had closed up, her carefully ordered thoughts scattering like leaves.
Max stood, picking up her coffee. “I should get back to rounds.”
“Wait.” The word came out before Asha could stop it.
Max paused, turned.
Asha stood too, setting down her mug with deliberate care. Her heart was racing, her palms damp, but she forced herself to meet Max’s eyes.
Asha moved closer towards Max, grabbed her top softly and kissed her.
It was different from their first kiss—not tentative or exploratory, but deliberate, hungry, months of suppressed want finally unleashed. Max made a small sound of surprise that melted into a sigh, her hands sliding from Asha’s face to her hair, pulling her closer. Asha’s own hands found Max’s waist, gripping the fabric of her scrubs like an anchor. She pulled her as close and tight as she possibly could. Asha knew how she wanted to take control, in every way possible. If only she could let her mind loosen control a bit.
They broke apart, breathing hard. Max’s eyes were dark, her lips already swollen.
“We should move from here,” Max started.
“The on-call room?” Asha finished.
They didn’t run—that would have been unprofessional—but they moved with purpose, slipping out of the break room separately, taking different routes through the dim hallways. Asha’s pulse thundered in her ears. Every step felt momentous, like she was crossing a threshold she could never uncross.
She reached the on-call room first, pushed the door open, and stepped into the small, dark space. A moment later, Max appeared, closing the door softly behind her and twisting the lock.
They stood there, breathing in sync, the only light coming from the thin strip under the door.
“Are you sure?” Max asked, voice low. “Because if you need more time?—”
Asha answered by kissing her again, harder this time, walking Max backward until her legs hit the narrow bed. Max sat, pulling Asha down with her, and suddenly they were tangled together, hands exploring, mouths desperate.
Asha felt the last of her restraint disappear as she let herself take control in the way that she knew best.
She drew back just enough to look down at Max, her voice a low command. “Lie back on the bed.”
Max obeyed, eyes wide, chest rising fast. Their dynamic fitting perfectly into place.
