I have a toxic trait: I love the chase. There’s nothing like the thrill of pursuing someone out of my league to spice up a mundane life. Recently, I’ve been chasing a stoic, ice-cold man. I spent two months throwing myself at him, and he barely gave me the time of day. I was very satisfied. But, like always, I eventually got bored and found a new target. A few days later, the Ice Doctor messaged me first for the once: “You’ve been busy lately?” I was currently at dinner with my new target. I replied: “Oh, absolutely. Work has been crazy, sweetie. I’m still at the office.” Ice Doctor: “At the office?” Me: “Uh-huh.” Ice Doctor: “Then turn around.” 1 My best friend, Chloe, broke her leg, so I went to visit her at a high-end private hospital. We were gossiping in her room when the attending physician walked in. I turned around and froze. The man was tall, impeccable in a pressed white coat, with an air of clinical detachment that screamed "do not touch." He was explaining post-op care to Chloe, his voice sounding like deep, cool water. Standing to the side, I admired the sharp bridge of his nose, his thick lashes, and his long, surgical fingers flipping through the chart. After he left, I exploded. "Give me your doctor's number. Now." Chloe looked at me like I was crazy. "Why?" I kept a straight face. "My contact list is missing a high-maintenance emotional challenge." She rolled her eyes so hard I thought they’d stick. "Just admit your 'chaser' syndrome is acting up again." Eventually, she forwarded his contact card. I sent a request immediately. His name was Ethan Caldwell. His social media was open, so I scrolled through. It was drier than the Sahara—medical journals, disease research, health tips. Definitely a work account. Hours later, he finally accepted. Me: Hi Dr. Caldwell, I’m Riley, a friend of your patient Chloe. Ethan: Okay. Me: When will she be discharged? Ethan: Day after tomorrow. Me: Thanks for taking such good care of her. Ethan: It’s my job. I hit a wall. His strictly professional attitude left me no opening to start my usual flirting routine. No problem. I needed to establish a physical presence first. For the next two days, under the guise of being a "supportive friend," I practically lived at the hospital. Hair done, full makeup, outfit on point. Chloe wanted to kick me out. But it worked. When I saw Ethan again, his gaze lingered on me for a solid two seconds before moving away. Delighted, I went back to texting him irrelevant fluff. Finally, Ethan paused typing for a long time. Ethan: Ms. Riley. Me: Here! Ethan: We have patients with respiratory issues on this floor. I suggest you ease up on the perfume. Me: ... 2 The day Chloe was discharged, I was devastated. Chloe nearly beat me with her crutches. "Give it up, Riley. I asked the nurses. Ethan comes from old money. He’s out of your league. You can’t land him." I got even more excited. "That’s the point! If I actually landed him, it wouldn't be fun anymore." Chloe was silent for a few seconds. "I will never understand your brain." I smiled. Sometimes, I didn’t understand it either. After Chloe went home, I continued to "harass" Ethan. Of course, I was a professional. I only bugged him when he wasn't busy. I’d feign medical ignorance: Dr. Caldwell, my neck has been killing me lately. When are your office hours? He sent a link: Book online. Or I’d comment on his dry articles: Wow, so insightful! You work so hard! Learning so much! He ignored all of it. I suddenly realized a critical issue. I didn't even know if he was single. This was serious. I decided to ask in person. On Tuesday afternoon, I booked an appointment with Dr. Caldwell. The copay was astronomical, but for the sake of the game, I swiped my card. Soon, a nurse called my name and led me into his office. This was my first time alone with him. From less than six feet away, I could see the tiny mole on his nose and the distinct curve of his pale lips. He looked up. My heart skipped a beat. He gestured for me to sit and asked about my symptoms. After I stuttered through a vague description, he asked follow-up questions. I had never been this nervous. Ethan’s eyes were dark, and when he looked at me professionally, there was a focused tenderness that contrasted sharply with his icy demeanor. My brain short-circuited. I rambled about nonsense. Ethan listened patiently for a long time before giving his verdict: "Riley, physiologically, your neck seems fine. If the discomfort persists, I can refer you to physical therapy." I snapped out of it and shook my head vigorously. Walking out of the office, I realized I’d forgotten my main question. I turned to go back, but Ethan had already left his office and was walking down the hall. I checked my phone. It was past 5:00 PM. I had kept him late. I ran after him. "Dr. Caldwell." He turned around. "I feel a little dizzy." He frowned slightly. "Just now?" "Yeah." "Go get an MRI first. Once we have the images..." He didn't finish his sentence. My vision went black, and I hit the floor. I lied to Ethan. I didn't have neck pain. I had hypoglycemia, and I hadn't eaten all day. 3 In my haze, I felt someone pick me up. The embrace was solid, safe, and smelled like antiseptic and expensive cologne. A while later, after a nurse hooked me up to an IV, I struggled to open my heavy eyelids. Someone was standing next to the bed. I looked up to see Ethan, frowning deeply. "If you’re hypoglycemic, you need to eat on a schedule." He dropped that advice and turned to leave. "Ethan." It was the first time I used his first name. He paused and looked back. I finally remembered my mission. "Are you single?" A trace of impatience flashed in his eyes. "Riley, if you don't have a medical emergency..." "Are you?" I asked again. Ethan paused for two seconds. "Yes." He turned to leave again, but I grabbed his sleeve. He looked back, visibly annoyed now. I pretended not to notice. I looked up at him with my most sincere, heart-melting smile. "Then... is it okay if I like you?" After I said it, I saw it clearly. Ethan’s dark, irritated pupils trembled. 4 I violated the first rule of the chase. Rule #1: Be charming, but keep your heart on ice. Never be direct. Ethan’s life was probably rigid and disciplined. He’d likely never met anyone as shamelessly direct as me. One sentence, and I scared him off. Leaving the hospital, I fell into deep regret. I figured I’d probably get blocked on his phone. After hesitating, I sent a risky text: Am I still on your contact list? It actually went through. I tried to unsend it immediately. Ethan replied with an ellipsis: ... Ethan: Yes. Me: ... Crap, he saw it. Me: Sorry about today. My brain was foggy from the low sugar. I was talking nonsense. He didn't reply. I scrolled through TikTok for an hour before a notification popped up. Ethan: Okay. Mission failed before it even started. Revealing my hand too early made the rest of the chase incredibly difficult. Over the next few interactions, Ethan basically ignored me. Luckily, I was a veteran chaser. I knew when to retreat. I drastically reduced my frequency and waited for the right moments. A simple "Get some rest" after his night shift, or a "Busy week?" on Sunday night. Once I retreated to a safe, non-aggressive distance, Ethan occasionally replied with a sentence or two. I didn't push for long conversations. I quit while I was ahead. I had my own life, after all. When I asked "Off work?" and he replied "Yeah," I knew he didn't hate my existence anymore. Suddenly, I just wanted to see him. On a slow weekend, I went to the hospital lobby to wait for him to get off work. I didn't know if I’d actually run into him. But without a strong agenda, I treated it as a vibe check. Whatever happens, happens. Luck was on my side. I saw him. And I witnessed a scene straight out of a soap opera. Ethan had changed into street clothes, but a young woman was blocking his path. I couldn't hear them from a distance, but I saw Ethan’s furrowed brows and the impatience in his eyes. The same look he gave me that day. Another relentless pursuer, I guessed. As I got closer, I heard them. "Ms. Sanders, personally, I think it would be best if you found another doctor." "Ethan, I’m not here for a checkup, I..." "Sister," I walked over and interrupted. "Dr. Caldwell is off the clock. I think he’s done being bothered for the day." My sudden appearance stunned her. She was young, probably college-aged. She blushed, mumbled an "Okay," and hurried away. Ethan frowned at me. I wasn't planning to pester him. I nodded at him, turned around, and walked out the automatic doors. While I was waiting for my Uber on the curb, a black SUV pulled up in front of me. The window rolled down slowly. I raised an eyebrow and walked over, intrigued. "Dr. Caldwell has something to say?" Ethan’s hands were on the steering wheel, eyes fixed straight ahead. His voice was cool. "Riley." First time he said my name. My heart jumped. "Yeah?" "I don't like being bothered after work." I paused. Was he referring to the girl, or me? I looked down and smiled knowingly. "My goal is different from hers." Ethan turned to look at me. The streetlights cast shadows across his face. His eyes were dark, filled with suspicion and scrutiny. He let out a soft, dismissive scoff. "How is it different?" "I just came to sit. If I see you, great. If not, whatever. I’m not asking for a response. Whether I like you or not is my business. If I’m bothering you, I won't come around anymore." The look he gave me was full of confusion. I guess normal people don't understand my mindset. I smiled again. "Ethan, being liked by me just proves you’re an exceptional guy." He didn't respond. I waved. "Get home safe. Bye."
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