Page 38 of The Doctors Will See You Now

A big metaphorical arrow started flashing above her head with the words this is your opening written in neon above it. I couldn’t put my finger on the particulars of my attraction, what it was that seemed to draw me to her so strongly, but understanding or not, it was there all the same—in a way that I knew wouldn’t dissipate without any evidence to support the reasons it should. She fucking works for you, and things could get hella awkward apparently wasn’t good enough.

“The problems are real, but maybe salvaging my reputation won’t be so bad.”

She laughed mockingly. “Yeah, you’re right. It’ll probably be a piece of cake.”

High on her renewed laughter, I went for it. “Maybe dating you would do the trick.”

All sounds of laughter cut off as though I’d physically choked her. I might have even heard a set of imaginary tires squeal as they forced themselves to a stop on the pavement. “What?”

Still, it wouldn’t do me all that much good to back out now, so I persevered. “Dating you. Maybe that would solve some of my problems. You’re well-liked. I’d be off the market for all of the crazy women. And I won’t even ask you to make an appointment or vajazzle yourself.”

Her face settled into a mixture of pity and understanding. Her big eyes turned down at the corners, and half a dimple formed a hollow in her cheek. There was a smile there, but it was veiled in the sadness of a frown. The expression wasn’t my favorite, but she still looked beautiful.

“This is a bad idea, Will. You can’t date me to rebuild your image.”

I could give two flying fucks about my image. Just say yes.

“Can I date you because I want to?”

“Will.”

“Come on,” I pleaded. “One date. What’s that going to hurt? Seriously, I can be really endearing. I know I haven’t done such a great job of showing that to you, but I swear I can.”

And now you’re begging. Oh, Will, how far you’ve fallen.

All traces of happiness fled her face, leaving only the pity to comfort the coming blow. “I’m sorry. It’s not just you. It’s me too. There’s so much unsettled. So much I don’t know about what I want and who I am. I just…”

I shrugged. Disappointment took the form of a full-body throb, but I ignored it. She was obviously right. It wasn’t a good idea at all. I’d have to get out tonight. Find someone to fuck, balance out the obviously fucked-up hormones inside me, and move on.

“You’re probably right. It might salvage my reputation, but think of the horrible things it’d do to yours.” A ghost of a grin lifted the corners of her lips. “Saaaave yourseeelf,” I cried, and her smile deepened just enough to be real.

Silence stretched between us for what felt like years but was likely no more than a few seconds before she stood up.

Hooking a thumb over her shoulder, she pointed to the exit. “Well, I should probably…”

“Right. Yeah, okay. Next patient. I’ll see you out there.”

“Okay,” she agreed before stepping through the door and shutting it gently behind her.

Which was probably good. I needed a minute to get over myself and get back to business.

I stood up and pulled my coat back on when an old tongue depressor caught my eye on top of my filing cabinet.

I wasn’t sure if the talk about not knowing things about herself was just talk, a way to take some of the focus off of me and soften the blow, or if she really felt that way, but our conversation in the supply closet of the hospital blared throughout my mind in response.

Tongue depressor affirmations.

I grabbed a Sharpie from my drawer, and without even thinking, the words flowed out of me and onto the thin piece of wood.

Open wide! Everything you’re looking for is inside yourself.

I startled when she knocked on the door, and I slammed a hand down on top of it to cover it.

“Yeah?”

It sounded like there was a frog in my throat. Her eyebrows pinched together, but she didn’t say anything. She probably just thought I was having a mental breakdown.

“Your next patient is in exam room eight.”