I Wanna Sext You Up

by Evie Claire

  —

  Phebe: CrossFit tonight?

  Phebe’s text came in as Lorie pulled into her condo parking lot. Lorie pushed out a sigh of relief.

  Lorie: OMG. Hell yes! I need to punch something.

  There were healthier ways of dealing with anxiety than allowing it to eat away the lining of one’s stomach. Kettlebells and burpees could do the trick.

  Phebe: LOL. Me, too. Rough day?

  Lorie: #TuesdaySucks

  But it was about to get better. Instead of sitting on her couch pondering the perplexities of Dr. Saam Sherazi’s brain and her current situation, she could work up a sweat with Phebe and get her own brain back on track.

  He didn’t owe her a detailed diagram of his whereabouts every second of the day. And she had shit to do. Only doing all that shit was so much easier when she didn’t have boybrain. She needed to remedy herself. Stat.

  She was pulling on a pair of bright pink running shorts when her phone chimed again. Assuming it was Phebe with class details, she left it and went to braid her hair into pigtails. Emerging from the bathroom, dressed and ready to sweat, she picked up her phone to see what time Phebe wanted to meet.

  Saam: How was your day?

  Heart thumping and stomach flipping, she sank onto the bed. It wasn’t what she’d expected. She’d prepared herself not to hear from him for days—one of the main reasons she was so keyed up. Getting a text from him when he was at a conference took things to a different level. He was obviously thinking about her. And that made her feel all schoolgirl-with-a-secret-crush giddy.

  Was she about to start her period? Was that why her emotions were the biggest twisted knot of what-the-fuckness she’d ever experienced?

  Lorie: It was good. You?

  Saam: Boring. I’ve been sitting in meetings at a conference all day.

  Saam: My ass is numb.

  His ass. Lorie’s boybrain swam at the memory of its perfect curve.

  Lorie: You’re at a conference?

  Playing it dumb seemed the best course of discourse.

  Saam: Yes. So boring. Wish you were here.

  Lorie: Then my ass would be numb.

  Saam: I’d rub it until the feeling came back.

  Saam: Promise

  Oh shit. Lorie’s stomach knotted. Where they really about to do this again? She knew she shouldn’t. Lines and all that. But suddenly, her fingers didn’t seem to care. Neither did the rest of her.

  Saam: What are you doing?

  Oh, she knew where that question led to.

  Lorie: Going to work out.

  Saam: I like it when you sweat.

  Saam: Let me give you something to think about as you shower off.

  Lorie: I’m waiting.

  Saam: All day long, I’ve been thinking about you.

  Saam: Picturing you naked.

  Saam: Imagining how perfect your breasts feel in my hands.

  Saam: Recalling the way your hips arch to take me deeper.

  Saam: Feeling the rhythm of your body sliding against mine.

  Saam: Remembering the pitch of your moan ripping through the silence when you can’t take anymore.

  Saam: And then the way you forget yourself and go boneless in my arms.

  Holy hell. Lorie inhaled deeply, fanning herself. No way she would make it through a CrossFit class in this state.

  Lorie: When are you coming back?

  Saam: Saturday

  Lorie: Saturday is suddenly my favorite day of the week.

  Lorie closed her phone and grabbed a nearby pillow, holding it to her face and squealing into it. Not giving a shit that she was a total schoolgirl with a secret crush.

  Saturday.

  Four days.

  Four freakin’ days.

  Chapter 19

  Saam

  Four days without patients. Four days to obsess over Lorie without feeling guilty about it. She was distracting. But some distractions, he had decided, were worth it. If there was something between them, and he let her slip away, that wasn’t fair to him. Which only left one question:

  Regular or double stuffed?

  He stood in front of a snack shop display at Hartsfield-Jackson airport, weighing his options and trying to decide if showing up on her doorstep was creepy or awesome. Not that it mattered. His mind was made up. But just in case she wasn’t thrilled to see him, he needed an exit plan.

  He decided on the package with pink letters. More was always better.

  Pushing through the airport crowds into the steamy sunshine of a Georgia July, he found a shady spot and pulled up his Uber app. Only to realize he didn’t have her address. He remembered the cross street. Surely, if he got there, he would recognize the rest.

  Twenty minutes later, cookies in hand, he stepped from his Uber onto the sidewalk near Lorie’s townhouse. He’d dropped her off once. But it was dark. In the bright daylight, he wasn’t exactly sure. He scanned both sides of the street, looking up and down each one. If he remembered correctly, there was a small parking area off to the side. Maybe. Maybe not.

  He was just about to text, lose the element of surprise, when he heard his name.

  “Saam?”

  * * *

  —

  Her voice drifted down the sidewalk, in a high, slow lilt that made his heart kick around harder in his chest. Reflexively, he jerked around to face it, the duffel bag slung over his shoulder moving with him.

  And then against him.

  Catching a glimpse of her, he was momentarily stunned—god, she’s gorgeous. Long blond ponytail draped over her shoulder, long tanned legs peeking out beneath tiny running shorts. The polar opposite of her normal business attire. For a second, her eyes danced in the dappled sunshine spilling over them. The next instant they widened with alarm when they drifted to his overstuffed duffel packed for a weeklong trip swinging wildly in her direction. Under its unwieldy weight, and caught off guard by her beauty, he grew unsteady on his feet, shuffling to the side to stay erect.

  She was feet away from him now, extending an arm to help, obviously confused by his presence but also smiling about it. And just when he thought he had his balance back, the strap of his duffel tangled with something else and became hopelessly entwined. Realizing too late what the new snare was, he stopped fighting to free himself, giving in to inertia, and let himself fall to the pavement. Smack-dab on his ass. He landed with a thud.

  “Oof!!” He grimaced.

  “Saam!” She stifled her alarm, falling beside him and scooping a whimpering ball of white fur into her arms. “Are you okay, boy?” She examined the dog in her grasp and then turned back to Saam. “Are you okay?”

  “I think so.” Saam reached for his bag strap to begin unwinding things. “I didn’t fall on him, did I?”

  “No, he would’ve yelped louder if you had. I’m so sorry, he gets excited around new people.” Lorie grimaced, putting the dog down and pulling at the turquoise leash wound around Saam’s bag. “I hope he didn’t hurt you.”

  “It’s only my pride that’s wounded.” He shrugged sheepishly. “Here I am trying to be Mr. Cool and I bust my ass right in front of you.”

  She said nothing, but offered her hand, gripped him tightly, and hauled him off the pavement with Gal Gadot–type strength.

  “I think you would have totally stuck that landing if you hadn’t gotten tangled in Brad’s leash,” she said, and while Saam knew she was talking, he wasn’t really listening. Bending over to check the dog again, her running shorts all but disappeared under a muscle tank. The image did crazy things to Saam.

  “What?” Saam asked, realizing she was silent.

  Lorie stood in a flurry of flying blond hair, paused, stared down the sidewalk, propped a hand on her hip, and cocked her head to the side. “What are you doing here anyway?”
>
  Saam brushed the dirt off his backside, looked down the sidewalk, too, and then bit his lip. “I couldn’t wait to see you.”

  “You mean you haven’t even been home? That car picked you up at the airport?” Lorie pointed in the direction the Uber had disappeared, obviously having watched him awkwardly search the sidewalks for her place.

  Saam stuck his hand in his pocket. “Thing is, I saw something at the airport, and it made me think of you.”

  “What?”

  Saam palmed the bag of Oreos and then held them out; crumbs sprinkled out of a small hole in the side. “I guess they didn’t survive the fall.”

  Lorie dragged a look up and down him, her head falling to the other side, squinting and pursing her lips at the end.

  “Are you kidding?” Lorie looked incredulous, taking the package from his hand and turning toward her apartment. “They’re better crumbled. Remember?”

  There isn’t a single detail of our night I don’t remember, he thought. Standing for a minute on the sidewalk, watching her walk away with a goofy grin, he startled when she spoke again.

  She looked over her shoulder and paused. “Are you coming?”

  “Yes!” he yelled and double-timed it to catch up.

  “Oh!” Lorie exclaimed when they were inside her condo’s entryway and met another couple on their way out. “Phebe! Where are you headed?” She stepped in front of Saam to make room.

  “We’re going to Whole Foods.” The other woman paused, then looked warily from Lorie to Saam. The entryway was narrow. In order for everyone to fit, Saam stood tucked behind Lorie. “Is everything okay?” The look on her face fell, and she kept a skeptical gaze on Saam, like she was committing his face to memory.

  “Yes! This is…” she hesitated. “Saam, a friend of mine. Saam, Phebe and Brody.” Handshakes were made, but there was tension in the air. Tension that still had Lorie’s shoulders up around her ears when they made it through her apartment door. He didn’t like that, so he tried to change the subject.

  “It’s either incredibly cool or incredibly creepy that I’m here,” he offered, tossing his duffel bag onto the floor near the door. “I just wanted to see you.” He shrugged, slowly following her down the hallway. Lorie let the dog off the leash and poured water in his bowl before turning back to Saam.

  “Oreos?” Lorie stretched over the countertop, reaching toward a shelf and bowls.

  “Yes!” He had forgotten about his ultimate bribery tool. “Definitely.” Truth was, seeing her body stretched out like that, cookies were the last thing he wanted.

  She paused longer than he liked, rocking back on her heels and running a free hand down the length of her ponytail.

  “Have a seat,” she finally said, nodding toward a barstool without looking his way. He didn’t like the abrupt change in her mood.

  “Can I ask what that was in the hallway just now?”

  Lorie went rigid, her back to him. Silence filled the room, punctuated by an audible inhale before she answered.

  “Phebe is one of my closest friends. It’s weird for you to meet like that because I haven’t…” Lorie paused and pushed out a long breath. “I haven’t mentioned you.”

  “That doesn’t offend me.” Saam shook his head. “We aren’t there yet, are we?”

  “Then where are we?” Lorie asked, her face pulling together. “This is hard for me, Saam. I like you. I really like you. But I don’t know what to do with that.”

  “You don’t know if I’m worth the risk?” he challenged.

  Lorie stopped walking toward the table, a bowl wavering in each hand.

  “It’s okay. I’m wrestling with it, too. You aren’t good for me professionally. I’m distracted as hell at work. My patients don’t have my full attention. Yet here I am.” Saam fell into the chair he’d been leaning against, making a statement about where he chose to be.

  Lorie placed the bowls on the table and sidled up beside him. Picking at her nails, she grabbed her ponytail and started fiddling with it, too.

  “Usually, when a girl is in my shoes, she can’t wait to tell everyone about the awesome guy she’s met. About how perfect and wonderful he is.” Lorie’s face went all giddy, then frowned and the change hit Saam right in the gut. “I can’t do that with you. Too much is at stake. Which makes the emotions sky-high and I can’t share any of them with anybody. I’m so torn.”

  “Share it with me,” he offered.

  “Share my feelings for you with you?” Lorie leaned back, shaking her head wildly. “That’s not the way you play this game.”

  “Well, I’m not playing a game.” Saam put his hand on her forearm to stop her retreat, standing up so they were on the same level. “I like you.”

  Lorie looked away.

  “You aren’t exactly in my life plan, Lorie.” Saam moved to get her attention back on him. “There were things I wanted to accomplish before I got into a relationship.”

  “Your research?” she asked.

  “Research is at the top of my list,” he agreed, sliding his hand into her palm and pulling her closer. “You have reprioritized things for me. I haven’t the first clue what that means. But I’m willing to take the risk to find out.”

  Lorie looked at their hands and pursed her lips.

  “You moved our Lampalin numbers more in one week than they’ve moved in four months. My teammates are giving me all the credit for that. What do you think they would say if they knew what was happening here?”

  “Your personal life is none of their business.”

  “I know. But, I need a clear boundary defined between work and play. And I don’t have that right now.”

  “We aren’t the first to cross this line.”

  “You’re right. The girl before me—the Rookie of the Year—slept with a doctor.”

  “Didn’t you say she got a better job elsewhere?”

  Lorie shook her head with a sickened expression on her face. “She was allowed to leave. The doctor was married.”

  “That’s not the same then.”

  “I know. But I can’t exactly call and ask my boss. Do you see how isolated I feel in all of this? You have totally turned my world upside down and I have to keep my mouth shut about all of it.”

  “Do you want me to stop prescribing Lampalin?”

  “No, I believe in the drug. Your patients deserve what’s best for them.”

  “Do you want me to leave?”

  “God, no.” Lorie’s face crumpled. “I’ve spent all week waiting for Saturday.”

  Saam looked around the kitchen, thinking. A flyer sat nearby, bold orange and vibrant purple lettering he’d seen before. He picked it up and read the first sentence, then placed it in her hand.

  “Give me your best sales pitch. Here and now. Then we will never speak about work again and I will use your drug for the patients it benefits most.”

  “That’s silly.” She pushed the paper back.

  “It’s a boundary.”

  “You want me to give the Lampalin elevator pitch right now?”

  “Have you ever given me the Lampalin elevator pitch?”

  She hung her head in her hand, shaking it back and forth until her shoulders started bouncing with laughter. It was kind of absurd. But if Lorie needed boundaries, he would give her what she needed.

  “Hurry up, my Oreos are waiting.” He crossed his arms and sighed impatiently, just like he would do if patients were waiting in his office.

  Lorie cleared her throat and righted her shoulders.

  “Lampalin is revolutionary. Unlike any other weapon you have in your diabetic arsenal. We’re the shiny new toy in your tool belt.” She paused long enough to stifle a giggle. “Not only do we have the smallest needle on the market, we also have a patented pen-like delivery system that can sense when that tiny needle is subc
utaneous, deliver a prespecified dosage, and then alert the user when the dose is fully administered. So easy a child can do it.” Lorie turned the detail aid over to show a picture of a kid smiling as his mom gave him his medicine.

  “I’m not convinced.” Saam narrowed his eyes, taking the detail aid back from her. “You’re going to have to buy me lunch if you want my business.”

  “Oh.” Lorie role-played right back. “But my company won’t let me give gifts. Is there anything else I can offer you?” She looked him square in the eyes. Her look was sultry, then panicked. “Shit, no. I’m sorry.” Lorie held up a hand between them, looking away to collect her thoughts. “How do you do that to me?”

  “Do what?”

  “Make me forget myself.”

  “Because there’s something here worth forgetting yourself over.” Saam stepped toward her, pulling her hand away from where it rubbed over lips. “This is more. You feel it, too. Let’s go with it. No apologies. No one else has to know until we figure things out.”

  “I don’t regret anything we’ve done. But I also can’t risk my career while we figure things out.”

  “Who exactly am I going to tell? The five people that follow me on Instagram? Or the two people I text with on a regular basis—one of which is now you?”

  Lorie giggled, agreement slowly pulling the worry lines from her face.

  “Sexting,” Lorie mumbled under her breath. “Surely you have more than five followers.”

  Saam shook his head.

  “I am, by far, the uncoolest person you have ever met.” Saam took the Oreos off the counter and divided the crumbles into their bowls. “I was born an old soul, and I’m useless when it comes to navigating the intricacies of social dynamics.”

  “That explains so much about you.” Lorie crossed her arms over her chest, resting her weight on one foot, smiling in that teasing way she did, taking him in with a tilted head. Saam nodded his agreement.

  “My lips are sealed. Yes, there are complications here. This is new territory. We should definitely leave work out of it. Let’s approach this relationship as two consenting adults. Nothing else matters until we figure out that part of our dynamic.”