by Max Monroe
“Do you think they’re onto us?” I ask. She slugs me right in the kidney as she steps around me.
I wince and laugh at the same time, jumping into a walk that matches her pace. We walk elbow to elbow all the way to the door, her eyes flitting nervously back and forth between us the whole time. My nurse smiles at me, while hers narrows her eyes. Apparently, she finds it suspect that Holley is that twitchy.
Hoping to ease the awkwardness, I wrap an arm around Holley’s shoulder and pull her toward me, saying loudly enough for her nurse to hear, “No reason to be nervous, sweetheart.”
“What?” Holley asks, confused. I put my lips to her ear and smile as I whisper. “You look like a junkie right now, all fidgety. I’m helping you.”
“I’m only jumpy because you made me that way,” she hisses, and I laugh. Making a big show of it, I put my lips to her cheek and give her a kiss. Her eyes widen, but I take my arm away from her and say my goodbyes. “See you after, honey.”
She glares, but my nurse is apparently taken with the show. “Oh, nonsense. We’ve got rooms for you two right next to each other, don’t we, Cheryl?”
Cheryl, Holley’s nurse, finally starts to warm, agreeing, “Yeah, I think we do.”
“Great,” I say cheerfully. Holley looks absolutely miserable, but I can’t help it. It’s the good kind of miserable. The kind she’ll get over. The kind I always tell Chloe is the fun kind of embarrassment.
Holley
Jake Brent is literally in the room next door. They walked us down the hall together, handed me a cup, and requested that I go fill it with my urine, all while he was still within earshot.
Heaven help me, this day has not gone at all how I thought it would.
I didn’t expect to see him. I didn’t expect to see anyone. One does not go to the vagina doctor to have buddy time. One goes to the vagina doctor because they absolutely must to ensure reproductive health.
The thin paper of the gown on the bed feels like nothing against the air from the vent above my head, and the draft on all parts of my body only amplifies the acute awareness that I am seriously naked only a wall away from Jake.
And it was all his doing!
I’m pretty sure he was suffering some sort of psychotic break out there. Like, it’s good he’s in a doctor’s office at this point, but did he really have to be in the same one as me? In the room next door?
How am I going to handle the claw of death cranking open my vajayjay with him no more than a wall away? This isn’t normal. This isn’t something women should have to go through. Shouldn’t our doctor’s offices at least be keeping to their own halls?
There’s a knock on the door, and I have to admit, a part of me is hoping it’s the grim reaper, here to put me out of my misery.
Like, he and his sharp scythe aren’t that intimidating.
They’re even kind of friendly looking if you really think about it.
Alas, it’s not him when the door swings open. “Hey there,” my nurse greets, going over to my cup of warm pee and dipping a test strip in it with gloved hands. I look on as she lays it on top of protective plastic across the edge of the sink and waits for the results.
“Everything looks normal,” she says, sounding almost disappointed. “Not pregnant.”
Good. I’m glad. I’d really have to fucking worry if I’d somehow turned up pregnant without even coming close to having sex. Still, she looks like it’s not the best of news, so I make sure I nip that in the bud.
“That’s good.”
She smiles kindly as she heads for the blood pressure cuff. “You two aren’t ready to try?”
I laugh. Am I high on drugs? What in the world is going on here? “What two?”
“You and Jake.” She flashes a knowing, amused grin. “He’s too funny. He was just making jokes out in the hall. You’re a lucky girl.”
I roll my eyes. He’s like a charm explosion all over this place. I, apparently, had my force field engaged beforehand, though.
“We’re not together,” I clarify.
She smiles like she doesn’t believe me. Whatever. I have no reason to try to convince this woman anyway. I’ll likely never see her again. At most, at my next annual appointment.
Thankfully, she moves on too. “Blood pressure is normal. Anything in particular you need to discuss with the doctor today?”
I shake my head. “Just my normal appointment.”
“Okay, great. She’ll be in shortly, then. Okay?”
I nod. Okay, Cheryl.
Laughter rings through the walls of the next room, and my head whips that direction so fast, I almost knock myself right off the top of the table. As it is, the paper makes a horrendously loud noise.
What is it, Comedy Hour in there?
I shake my head and pull my paper gown a little tighter. Still, a cool breeze blows across the bare skin of my vagina and makes me tense up.
He can’t hear me in here, can he? I mean, I can hear them laughing, but they’re being extra loud. There’s no way he can hear normal-volume conversation, right?
For the sake of my sanity, I agree with myself. He can’t hear me, and he definitely can’t see me. It’s just like any other awful trip to the gyno. I’ll just get my pap smeared, my boobs squeezed, and get the hell out of here. We probably won’t even leave at the same time, and by the time I see Jake Brent next, I’ll have had the chance to get some composure back.
A knock at the door startles me once again, but somehow, I find my voice. “Come in.”
The door pushes open, and the doctor steps in with a smile on her face. She’s shaking her head, and somehow, I just know Jake is the one responsible.
“Sorry,” she says with a laugh, her blond ponytail swinging. “We’re just cracking up out there. Cheryl says Jake’s your boyfriend.”
I grimace.
“Actually—”
“He’s a riot.”
I smile so fakely, it’s a miracle my face doesn’t shatter. “Oh yeah.”
Dr. Davenport doesn’t notice. “Anyway, let’s get this over with, shall we?”
I nod. Now that sounds like a splendid idea.
“Okay, just lie back for me. Scoot all the way down to the edge,” she instructs, turning to get her instruments ready.
I do as I’m asked, shimmying my way down the table, and my paper gown crinkles the whole way.
My instinct is to cross my legs, but I know better than that. This is the time to butterfly. Wide and open to the air, I’m to spread my vageen for all to see.
I can only hope, with the way this appointment’s gone so far, that Jake Brent doesn’t open the door and step inside right at this moment.
I shake my head and close my eyes. Why am I making this such a big deal? It’s not, obviously. It’s a coincidence. And Jake’s been friendly and fun. Clearly, everyone else is loving their time with him.
Maybe I just need to lighten up? Think of him without jumping to conclusions or getting all nervous.
I mean, it was great to see him smile so much. He’s got an undeniably great smile. It goes all the way to his blue-green eyes and lights up the room. And the ad was right—it makes the most perfect of wrinkled laugh lines at the sides of his eyes. Clearly, he’s like this all the time. Cutting up and having fun. He’s spent many, many years finding the mirth in life.
“Just relax,” Dr. Davenport instructs, putting gentle pressure on the insides of my knees as they’ve closed right up again. “You’re going to feel the pressure of my fingers, first outside and then in.”
I pull my lips into my mouth and stare at the ceiling. Nothing like the feeling of a stranger’s fingers as they root around inside you. Seriously, nothing like it.
“Good. Now, I’m going to use the speculum. Just take a couple deep breaths for me, okay?”
I nod. Oh goodie. The most fun part of all.
“Relax,” she instructs again as I feel my muscles go full-on boa constrictor. I take a deep breath in and then slowly blow it out as she
slides the plastic dinosaur inside and slowly cranks open the jaws.
“Okay, you may feel a tiny pinch—”
I wince as she swabs the cotton over the inside of my body and pulls it out.
“All done,” she announces finally, pulling the plastic back out. “Great. Everything is looking great.”
Always good news when someone has just taken a super thorough look at your vagina. Come to think of it, maybe that was the problem with Raleigh. I don’t think he ever told me my vagina was looking really good.
Dr. Davenport moves up the bed, pulls off her gloves and tosses them in the garbage, and then gently opens the front of my gown to give my boobs a quick rubdown. I once again look awkwardly to the ceiling as she makes circles from my nipples all the way out to the edges of my breasts.
“Good,” she says again, and for as dramatic as I’ve been about this whole thing, I take another deep breath. Anytime you can come to this doctor’s office without getting bad news is a blessing.
I sit up a little, shuffling my bare ass from the edge of the table to back under my body. She makes some notes on my chart and then looks back at me.
“Do you want an STI test?”
“No.”
The doctor nods, ready to leave the room when panic overwhelms me. My mouth is about to move without my consent. I can feel it coming like vomit crawling up my throat. “Yes. Actually, yes. I’d like to get tested. Just to…know. For future reference kind of thing. Just in case.”
Could I be any more awkward? Seriously? Why am I like this?
“All right, then.” Dr. Davenport nods. “I’ll have the nurse come back in with the test in just a couple minutes.”
“Thank you.”
After Raleigh left me for his assistant, I should have gotten tested, but I could never bring myself to do it. I didn’t have any symptoms—thank God—but he’d been sleeping around on me for at least a year. And seeing as he’d gotten the woman pregnant, he was obviously not using protection.
But now…it just seems like I should.
It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the man in the room next door…
No way. I don’t even really know him. Plus, he’s done nothing but tease me all day.
You want to be teased, all right.
Oh, for fuck’s sake! This is a professional relationship, that’s all, despite what everyone in this office might think.
Jake Brent is Bachelor Anonymous. I’m spending the day with him tomorrow to know what to write about in my article. That’s it.
Jake
My bare feet sink into the cool sand of the early morning with ease as I sling my bag over my shoulder and look back in the direction of the parking lot.
A huge array of pink and red and orangey-purple paint the sky with an artistic warning of the sun’s upcoming arrival above my truck, and birds chirp in the silent stillness of it all.
I turn back to the roll of the ocean and make my way about halfway down to my normal spot in the sand before spreading out my towel and dropping my bag on top of it. Normally, I wouldn’t waste any time before pulling my T-shirt up and over my head, pulling on my wet suit, and heading into the ocean, but this morning—against all of my better judgment—I’m waiting on Holley Fields to join me.
I shake my head to myself. I still can’t believe I agreed to be a part of this shit. Fatherhood is a powerful form of emotional weaponry; I’ll tell you that.
I take a seat on my towel, but I face the street rather than the waves. The sun will be above the horizon at any moment, and for once, I’m going to allow myself the chance to watch it.
A lone plane leaves a trail in the pink mist at the top of the sherbet display, and sea gulls cry out for one another.
A flash of movement catches my eye from down below, and I tip my chin down away from the sky to see what it is. I recognize the little blue car immediately as it pulls into the parking lot, and I smile to myself with thanks that this time, it’s not nearly as close to running anyone over.
Once Holley Fields comes to a stop, she moves around on the inside, but I can just barely make her out through the windshield. Only a minute or two passes before she shoves her door open and climbs to her feet. I watch as she tugs at the waistband of her shorts, shoves one hand down the back to relieve herself of a wedgie, and then leans in again to pull a bag across from the passenger side.
She drags it out, grabs it by the top, and then shuts the door to walk away, but her whole body jerks back, the handle having gotten trapped in the door.
I cover my mouth to keep the sound of my laugh from carrying the distance between us.
She’s a fucking mess. Bag finally free, she makes her way to the sidewalk, cutoff jean shorts highlighting the length of her long, tanned legs in the process.
Her white T-shirt is simple and tight over her full breasts, and her shoulder-length brown hair falls in natural waves around her face.
She’s a walking disaster—but man, she’s beautiful.
She stops on the sidewalk and leans down, still without having noticed me in my position on the beach. Her sandals are attractive but undeniably complicated, and the bag on her shoulder, thanks to gravity, flops to the ground and almost knocks her over. She stumbles a little, still working at the strappy buckle on one foot, and my smile grows again.
Frustrated, she kicks at her bag, making it spill out its contents, and a loud groan sounds all the way across the empty air and echoes off the ocean.
I bite my lip.
She turns then, hands still on her ankle, her ass still in the air, and reaches forward to get something before it can roll away.
The vision of her ass sparks a memory from the last time I saw it—covered in nothing but lacy black underwear as she stripped down in the same parking lot.
Fuck.
Concerned with my line of thinking, I spin around and face the ocean for the remainder of her antics. We’re probably both better off if she doesn’t know I’ve been sitting here watching her struggle anyway.
I reach between my shoulders, pull off my T-shirt, and then shove it into the big opening of my bag. The screen of my phone lights up in the little pocket, so I pull it out to look at it, but it’s just an email.
I stand up and start to stretch, but the sound of Holley’s voice calling out to me makes me turn around.
“Hiii,” she calls, definitely oblivious to the fact that I watched the first and second act of her comedy sketch routine.
“Ah,” I hum as Holley comes walking through the sand, carrying her overly complicated shoes. “At least you’re wearing shorts this time.”
“Last time was not my fault,” she sasses. “Plus, I was saving you from drowning.”
“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
“Why would I? It’s the truth.”
A laugh jumps from my throat. “Okay. Sure. In your mind, you were saving me.”
“Not in my mind, cowboy. I was saving you.”
“Holley.”
She narrows her eyes. “Jake.”
“Holley.”
“Jake.”
I sigh. She smiles. Man, does it light her up. There’s something about her face—something so engaging. It’s beautiful and cute and earnest at the same time. I’ve never seen anything like it.
“Ready for a swim, then?” I ask, and she laughs so hard she actually snorts. It echoes on the empty beach.
“No way are you getting me back in that water.”
“Why? According to you, you saved me. Shouldn’t be any trauma associated with that, right?”
“It’s complex.” She skirts around the question. “But just trust me, we’re both better off.”
“I’ll watch out for you.”
“No.” She shakes her head, and strands of her dark locks slide across her shoulder.
“You won’t even notice you’re in the water, I’ll take such good care of you.”
“No.”
“But how will you accurately wri
te about any of this if you’re not out there with me?”
“You swim in the ocean, blah, blah, blah. I bet I can make up some really good stuff.”
I put two hands on my hips. “Come on, Holley.”
“I don’t have a suit.”
I grin, clapping my hands together between us so hard she jumps, and then turn to my bag to riffle through it. I find the fabric easily enough, pull it out, and hold it up in front of her. “Given how you dressed last time, I thought that might be the case, so I brought you one.”
Her jaw nearly hits the sand. “What?”
“A bathing suit,” I say, shaking the material between us. “I took one of Chloe’s.”
“I’m never going to fit into one of Chloe’s bathing suits.”
“Sure, you will,” I say. “You’re about the same height.” Not really, Chloe is definitely taller, but I’m not above necessary white lies if it’ll get her to put the thing on.
“But not even close to the same weight.”
I frown. She sounds kind of like she’s being down on herself about her weight, but I don’t get it. Her body is amazing, despite the ambiguity of its first impression in an ocean-soaked business suit.
“The material is stretchy. It’ll fit.”
“Jake—”
“Holley.”
She shakes her head, and I shake the suit. “Come on. I’m not going in without you, and I can’t start my day without a swim. It’s going to throw our whole schedule off if you don’t get a move on it.”
She snatches it out of my hand, and I have to hide my smile as a fiery heat surfaces to her cheeks. “You know, I’m getting the sense that you’re becoming more annoying by the day. Could you quit that?”
“Me?” I ask innocently. “Annoying? Are you sure?”
“Yes. Both yesterday and today. Very annoying.”
Her irritation makes me chuckle. “Okay. I’ll try to stop.”
She smiles and breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
Again, I shake the bathing suit.
“I thought you said you were going to stop!” she yells with a stomp of her foot.
“Sure, I am. But not without you going for a swim.”