Page 136 of The Doctors Will See You Now

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I urged with a hand to her shoulder. “Take it easy, Sex Victim. I’ve got to sign off on your chart, and you have to get discharged.”

“But if you sign off on my chart, you’ll see my name,” she said. It could have sounded weird, but with the way she said it, it just sounded flirtatious. Enchanted by her cool, witty demeanor and the sweet swell of her breasts, I was more than willing to go with it.

“I won’t look at your name,” I promised easily.

Because I wouldn’t.

At least, not until she was already gone. And, depending on how off my moral compass was at the time, I might even look at her phone number too.

Chances are good I’ll be dialing those digits in the near future.

Truth was, that fucker very rarely, if ever, pointed true north.

There were two things I was certain of before I opened my eyes. One, I should have put my phone on silent, and two, my face felt like someone had tried to give me a facelift without anesthesia—or so I’d imagine.

I had no idea what time it was, but from the way the sun’s rays were trying to set my bedroom on fire, I knew it was at least after nine. Which, considering the events that took place last night, was still too fucking early to rise and shine.

When a garbage truck outside my SoHo apartment started serenading me with its trash-crunching powers, I groaned audibly and opened my eyes for the first time.

The world didn’t look any more beautiful or optimistic despite daylight’s glorious rays. If anything, the harsh sunlight made me want to go back to sleep. I was maybe thirty seconds away from accomplishing the heavenly task when my phone started chirping again. Oh my God, who is calling me right now?

I hadn’t even started my day, but already, I wasn’t a fan.

I rolled to my side and snatched my phone off the nightstand before violently tapping the green phone icon to accept the call. “Stop it,” I muttered into the receiver. “Stop. The. Calling.”

“That bad?” Amanda’s slightly amused voice filled my ear, and I sighed in annoyance. My best friend was a morning person. And while, normally, I didn’t mind mornings, spending a couple hours in the emergency room to get my face stitched up after my date tossed me into his headboard sans a sexy ending didn’t equal a happy start to my day.

I should’ve found a way to disconnect all contact to the outside world and hibernate for the next seventy-two hours.

“Oh, hello, traitor,” I greeted. “Just FYI. You basically fed me to the horrible first-date wolves last night.”

“Excuse me?” She barked out a laugh. “How was your awful date my fault?”

“Because you wouldn’t help me escape it!”

“Oh, c’mon, Low. You were being ridiculous. You fucking asked me to call in a bomb threat to the restaurant.” I rolled my eyes. I took that one back, goddammit!

“I just needed a fake emergency,” I retorted. “And since you refused to help out your best friend, I ended up in the emergency room last night, thank you very much.”

“What?” she asked on a shout. “The emergency room? Oh my God! Are you okay?”

“Just a minor head injury that required some stitches. No big deal.”

“No big deal?” she exclaimed. “How is that no big deal, Low? What in the hell happened?”

“Well…let’s just say that if you ever enter a man’s bedroom and his headboard is made out of glass crystals like he’s Don fucking Corleone, do not engage in sexy times on his bed. You might end up bleeding all over his pristine white sheets after he accidentally tosses you toward it.”

“Holy shit, Low! You got injured while having sex last night?”

“It’d be nice if your side of this conversation would stop ending in questions. And we really don’t need to rehash it. I’m fine. My head is fine. Everyone is just fine, no thanks to you.”

The phone went dead silent for a few moments until Amanda’s stuttering giggles filled the void. They started out quiet, but eventually, her laughter dam broke, forcing breathless—and far too loud—laughs over the airwaves.

I cringed in response. My head wasn’t ready for the noise. “Stop laughing, asshole! It’s not that funny.”

“OhmyGod. Yes, it is,” she disagreed, nearly snorting. “I can’t believe you ended up with a sex injury.”

“You’re a terrible best friend.”