by Kelsie Rae
DRBen918: So you checked out my profile, eh? Good to know. And you make a good point. Again. I knew you had brains to go with that pretty face.
Marcy123Marcy: Careful, Ben. You’re makin’ me blush over here.
DrBen918: I’ve seen that blush before. It makes your freckles pop.
Sure enough, my face is blazing at his compliment, but I try to shrug it off.
Marcy123Marcy: Who are you, and what have you done with the professional doctor I’m used to seeing at my monthly appointments?
DrBen918: Unfortunately, he’s clocked out for the evening. But if you’d prefer to only deal with him, I can stop messaging you, and we can pretend I didn’t make a fool out of myself tonight.
The hint of insecurity in his message leaves me swooning…and curious enough to message back.
Marcy123Marcy: Nah. I think I can handle the non-doctor Ben. For now.
DRBen918: For now. I like the loophole. Do you always leave yourself an exit strategy? And what are you doing awake at 2 in the morning?
Marcy123Marcy: Yes, I always leave myself an exit strategy. I’m no dummy. And I thought we already discussed that I’m not much of a sleeper.
DRBen918: Not gonna lie. I kinda thought you were just being agreeable.
Marcy123Marcy: Nope. Sleep and I aren’t great friends. Apparently, you weren’t kidding either. Any babies tonight to distract you from your insomnia?
DRBen918: Unfortunately, no. But your messages seem to be doing the trick just fine.
Marcy123Marcy: Glad I can be of service. Anything else I can offer you?
His response isn’t instant this time. I can see the little bees fluttering across my screen, notifying me that he’s in the process of messaging me back. But they keep disappearing, only to pop back up when I’m about to throw in the towel and call it a night.
Geez. I didn’t know my message would’ve required that much overthinking.
And now I’m the one overthinking it. Did I say the wrong thing? Did I make an assumption that was completely off base? Am I going to ever be able to show my face to him again?
Gah! Kill me now. Just…kill me.
Finally, my phone vibrates with a notification, and I’m a little terrified to read what it says. Squeezing my eyes shut, I peek one lid open and brace myself for embarrassment as I scan the message.
DRBen918: I guess that depends on if I’m talking to my patient or a mysterious girl on a dating app.
Oh. I quirk my brow. That’s not too bad. Maybe we are on the same page. Gnawing on my lower lip, I reply.
Marcy123Marcy: And who exactly were you hoping to talk to tonight when you messaged me?
DRBen918: The girl I haven’t been able to stop thinking about….
Marcy123Marcy: That’s not an answer.
DRBen918: Neither was yours.
Laughing, I roll onto my side and scan the messages another dozen times before thinking of something to reply.
Marcy123Marcy: Touché. I guess…when you message Marcy123Marcy, you’re talking to a mysterious girl on a dating app whose pictures are blurred out due to privacy. But if you play your cards right, you might be able to convince her to send you a picture for your time. She’s a lot sleep deprived and a little delirious right now, so your chances are looking pretty good at the moment. So, tell me about this girl you haven’t been able to stop thinking about. Should I be jealous?
DRBen918: My initial instinct was to say yes, but let’s be honest. Probably not. The girl I haven’t been able to stop thinking about screams commitment, and that’s not something I’m comfortable with right now. Scratch that. I’m not sure I’d ever be comfortable with committing to a relationship. My wife died a couple years ago. And even though she’s gone, I know I won’t ever be able to replace her, and I don’t want to hurt the other girl or lead her into believing I can give her something that I can’t.
Wow. Honesty. I swallow down my insecurities and start to reply when another message pops up.
DRBen918: I’m hoping that you and I might be a better fit since I found you through the B&B app. That you’ll be okay with a good time, but that’s it since that’s all I’m willing to offer.
Marcy123Marcy: Don’t assume, Dr. Ben. You might think she looks like a commitment kind of girl, but you’d be surprised. You’re not the only one that’s been burned in the past. As for me, a good time is all I’m looking for, so it seems you’ve met your match.
DRBen918: Seems I have. Tell me, Marcy123Marcy, what’s a guy gotta do to get a picture? You mentioned me playing my cards right. Any suggestions on how I might do that?
Marcy123Marcy: Why don’t you start by telling me what you’re wearing. ;)
DRBen918: Is it too cliché to say I’m naked in bed?
I laugh––hard––covering my face with the comforter for a split second before throwing it off just as quickly to type my response. I’m so going to hell.
Marcy123Marcy: Prove it.
It doesn’t take long for an image to appear through the app. The picture is a little dark and pixelated, but as I let my eyes adjust, an image of a very naked Ben with a dark bed sheet covering up the good stuff appears.
Is it hot in here?
Staring at the image, my mouth waters as I debate whether I should download the image and open up photoshop to see if I can manipulate the light––or lack thereof––to give me a better glimpse of the Adonis in the picture, or if that would be considered too stalkerish.
My phone vibrates with another message.
DRBen918: You there?
Marcy123Marcy: Yup.
DRBen918: And? You can’t go quiet when a guy sends you a picture like that! Don’t you know proper sexting etiquette?
Laughing, I shake my head and type my reply.
Marcy123Marcy: Proper sexting etiquette? I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with it. I must’ve missed that class in school.
DRBen918: No worries. I took it in medical school, so it makes sense you weren’t privy to it.
Marcy123Marcy: Ah, yup. Definitely makes sense. So, tell me, Dr. Ben. How would proper sexting etiquette recommend I respond to your picture?
DRBen918: Well…you might wanna mention how studly I look. You know…to stroke my ego and such.
Marcy123Marcy: Call it a hunch, but I think your ego is juuust fine.
DRBen918: You could always help me stroke something else….
Marcy123Marcy: Oh, really?
DRBen918: Yeah, but he’s too afraid to say hello right now. He’s a little shy since you took so long to respond in the first place. You might need to coax him with a picture or two. You know…even the playing field.
Marcy123Marcy: To be fair, you’ve already seen the goods….
DRBen918: I’m sorry, but the “goods” were only revealed to the professional Dr. Bennett. Good ol’ Dr. Ben wasn’t on the premises at the time of the incident you’re referring to.
Marcy123Marcy: Is that right? Cuz I call bullshit.
DRBen918: I’m nothing, if not honest. And because of that honesty, I’ll tell you the truth. I’ve never been so tempted in my entire life to break a few codes of ethics in my office than when you were spread out on my exam table. You’re an enigma, Marcy. A gorgeous one. I’d love to see what you look like right now, but if I have to use my imagination, I can work with that too. It’s been getting plenty of exercise since you walked into my office.
Despite my awkwardness, I have sexted a time or two and may have even doctored up a few images of me for moments like this. Images that make me feel sexy and attractive instead of insecure and…less than perfect. But instead of searching for the album on my phone where the beautified photos are stored, I chew on my lower lip, raise my phone into the air, and snap a picture of me. Damp hair. No makeup. Baggy T-shirt that swallows me whole. And curvy legs on full display with only my boyshorts to cover my lower half.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I press send. And loathe myself as soon as I do.
As the seconds tick by,
I finally understand Ben’s insecurities from minutes ago as he not-so-patiently waited for me to text him back after he sent his picture.
Because the waiting? It’s brutal.
Puffing out my cheeks, I groan and head to the bathroom but leave my phone on the bed, hoping to find a little clarity. It doesn’t work. I wash my hands as fast as I can once I finish peeing, then race back to my bed and check my phone.
Still no answer.
Like a sack of potatoes, I collapse onto my bed and throw the covers over my head.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
My phone vibrates.
DRBen918: Sorry. Hospital called. I have a patient who’s dilated to an 8. I have to go, but I want you to know that you’re gorgeous, and we’ll be finishing this later. Goodnight, Marcy123Marcy. Which, by the way, is the lamest tag ever.
I catch myself grinning as I reread his message. The compliment followed by the promise to continue our conversation later. Then the flirtatious cherry on top that makes me want to kiss the annoying smirk that I have no doubt is plastered on his face. The whole thing has me sitting on pins and needles, anxious to keep texting just to see if he’ll reply. I haven’t felt this interested in a guy since middle school when Rudy Matthews asked me to the school dance, and I kind of like it.
Marcy123Marcy: Says the guy who’s totally tooting his own horn with DRBen918? I mean…DR? Come on, Ben. What’s the number for, anyway? Obviously, the 123 in my profile tag is because I’m super duper creative. Anywho, I’ll stop talking. Good luck at work. ;) Have fun!
DRBen918: 918 is my wife’s and my anniversary. September eighteenth. Talk to you later.
A spark of jealousy ignites inside of me, but I push it aside.
September eighteenth. Noted.
Those pins and needles I’d been sitting on start to feel like a damn bear trap on my ass before I remind myself that he already made his intentions clear.
His heart will only belong to one person. And that’s cool. If their love is as deep as I think it is, then he’s right. Nothing will ever change that. Not even booty calls through a dating app.
I guess it’s a good thing I’m not looking for anything serious, though, or that truth might sting.
And it doesn’t.
Plugging in my phone, I roll onto my stomach and close my eyes.
Nope. I’m definitely not jealous.
5
Marcy
With a yawn, I squint open my eyes and check the clock. Day-um. I slept in. I never sleep in. I have brunch with Dylan and need to get ready. Raising my hands above my head, my back arches into a toe-curling stretch before I push myself up and pad over to the bathroom with my phone in my hand.
There’s a message from DRBen918, and I hesitate before opening it, my mind fixating on the numbers 918 before shaking my head and rolling my eyes.
Come on, Marcy. Get your head in the game.
DRBen918: How’s your morning sickness?
Marcy123Marcy: Fine. It’s subsided a lot since you gave me that prescription. So…thanks for that.
DRBen918: Good.
As I read his message, I jerk back a couple of inches then cock my head to the side, as if the different angle will make more sense.
Okay then…is that it?
And who am I talking to here? Dr. Bennett, my OB/GYN? Or DRBen918, the hottie in the swimsuit? My fingers itch to type some kind of witty comment that will continue the conversation, but I have no idea if he actually wants to continue the conversation or if he was just…what? Doing his due diligence as a doctor to check on his patient? Through a dating app? ‘Cause, you know, that’s totally normal. My phone buzzes in my hand, distracting me from my over-analyzation.
DRBen918: It was a healthy baby girl, by the way.
What was a healthy baby girl? Oh!
Marcy123Marcy: Congratulations to the happy couple. Did the delivery go smoothly?
I regret the question as soon as I hit send before following it up with another one.
Marcy123Marcy: Don’t tell me if it didn’t. Delivering a baby scares the crap out of me.
His response is surprisingly quick when I know his office is already open, and he’s likely at work.
Hmmm…maybe he is interested?
DRBen918: Everything went smoothly. No tears. No hemorrhaging. Had to perform a small episiotomy, but it was a solid delivery with a healthy mother and baby at the end of it.
Marcy123Marcy: episiotomy? *ouch*
DRBen918: It happens, but don’t stress. Do you know if you’re going to get an epidural?
Marcy123Marcy: Will you judge me if I say yes?
DRBen918: haha no judgment here. But if you DO get an epidural, then it’ll be a walk in the park. Even if you need an episiotomy or tear, you won’t even feel it. Well…not until the epidural wears off anyway.
I cringe and squeeze my legs together.
Marcy123Marcy: You’re not helping. Lol
The phone starts ringing and lights up with Dylan’s name. Grimacing, I answer it.
“Hello?”
“Hey!” Dylan’s chipper voice replies. “I’m on my way. Just wanted to give you a heads up.”
Crap. I am going to be so late.
“Okay. I’ll meet you there.”
Setting my phone down, I get dressed in a pair of jeans and a light blue sweater as fast as I can before checking my cell for another message. A small part of me hates how excited I am to see Ben’s name flash across my screen.
DRBen918: Sorry. For freaking you out and for leaving you hanging last night. Did you sleep well?
His thoughtfulness brings a smile to my lips as I run a brush through my messy waves and instantly erases my fears of delivering a baby. Besides, I have like six months before I need to worry about that anyway.
Marcy123Marcy: I slept okay. How ‘bout you? Did you get any sleep last night?
DRBen918: I snuck in a couple hours before I had to get to work.
Marcy123Marcy: That’s rough. I’ve had to work on barely any sleep, and it isn’t exactly a walk in the park. Do you want me to leave you alone so you can focus on your patients?
DRBen918: I’m a good multitasker. As long as you’re okay with me taking a little while to reply sometimes, then I can still chat.
DRBen918: Unless you’re busy and don’t have time to talk…that’s fine too. We can just chat later or something.
That same little glimpse of his insecurity makes my nose scrunch up in amusement as I reread his messages.
Seriously, does the guy have any idea how cute he is?
If I were a good friend, I’d say I have to get going, but then I remember who I’m talking about. Dylan will one hundred percent approve of my reason for being tardy if it has anything to do with a cute doctor named Ben. With a smile, I type out my response.
Marcy123Marcy: It’s fine. I’m happy to still message. As long you’re okay with me taking a little while to reply sometimes. ;)
Grabbing my keys off the kitchen counter of my apartment, I lock the door behind me then practically skip down the stairs to my car so that I don’t keep Dylan waiting too long. It also doesn’t hurt that I’ve been dying for some of Bertha’s pancakes. Normally, I would walk, since the diner is just down the street from me, but Dylan only has so much patience.
My phone is stuffed into my purse to keep me from checking it while behind the wheel, even though the anticipation is driving me insane as I hear it vibrate twice. Unable to take it anymore, I pull into the diner’s parking lot, shove my car into park, then dig for my cell.
DRBen918: Deal.
DRBen918: So how do you like your steak?
Marcy123Marcy: As in…???
My phone buzzes another time, and my heart leaps with anticipation, but the message isn’t from Ben. It’s from Dylan.
Dylan: No rush, but I ordered without you. Don’t judge me. Baby is starving. PS- I’m sitting in the corner booth. See you soon!
Shaking away the haze Ben has cast on me, I type my r
esponse and pick up my pace.
Me: Just parked. I’ll be right in.
The message shows it’s been read as soon as I grab the door handle of Bertha’s diner and head in her direction.