One Size Fits All

  "Ah...isn't that against doctor/patient code of conduct or something?" I ask, really wanting to ask him to marry me.

  "A doctor's job is to care for the patient, no matter the extent of what that entails."

  "I'm pretty sure driving me home is not included in that..." Will you marry me? Please? I need to get laid. I'm proposing marriage to a man who just shoved a camera up my ass. Maybe I'm still sedated. And why do I need to propose marriage to get laid? I need more sleep.

  "Dr. Simon is out for lunch. The receptionist is with him," he air quotes the last tidbit of information.

  "She is?" I mean, she's no more than twenty-five and... I just shudder at the thought.

  "Don't ask. Don't tell."

  He nods his head to the door. "Let's go." With his hand gripped around my arm he helps me up. "I'm going to leave so you can get dressed. Are you going to be okay?" As I find my feet, I realize I'm wearing something horrible and fluffy on my ass. Medical underwear that is held up by cloth-lined elastic bands. Did he put this on me? Dying a little more.

  When he releases my arm, my knees buckle and I nearly fall to the ground in my johnny and plastic cottony panties. He catches me, though. His focus moves to the clock before reaching over to the chair where a bag containing my clothes sits. "Usually, people bring someone with them when they're sedated," he laughs.

  "I don't really have anyone," I tell him, wrapping my hair behind my ear like that's going to do anything for the way I look right now.

  He hands me my bag of clothes and turns around, though his grip is still firmly locked on my arm. "Go ahead." This is so wrong in so many violating ways right now. Not that I'm arguing or complaining, but this guy could lose his license before he even gets one. As clumsy as I am, I step into my jeans, tugging them roughly over this thick crap covering my ass. Thankfully, I wore sandals today so that part is easy. I slip the johnny off, watching it slide down my arm and dangling around his wrist since we're linked. His hand moves slightly, letting the johnny fall to the ground. He fidgets a bit, switching his weight from foot to foot, suddenly uncomfortable, maybe? I reach back to the table to grab my bra out of my bag. This is going to be a challenge. I slip my free arm through, letting it shimmy down onto my shoulder and then...ahhh...I tug my arm from his grip, and his hand shoots up to move, but ends up slapping the back of his hand against my boob. "Oh my God." He flips around out, reflexively, clearly by the look on his shocked face. "I'm so sorry." His hand cups my breast...what the... "Oh, ah, shit!" He flinches and pulls his hand into his chest. "Did I hurt you?"

  "No!" I yelp. There go my knees again. I catch myself on the table/bed/thing and he finally grabs my other arm, the one with the bra strap dangling. I quickly pull the bra over my other arm and pull it on. "I need my hand."

  A loud sigh heaves from his mouth, and he turns around with his eyes now closed. His hands grip around my waist, and he lifts me up to perch me back on the bed that I never should have hopped down from. As he twists back around, I clasp my bra together and pull my shirt over my head. He should have thought of this sooner. He's the one who is supposed to be thinking clearly. "I am so sorry, Sydney."

  "You just saw and groped my ass for three hours. We were already past second base." So true. So sad. Maybe someday, someone will voluntarily want to go to second base...or home with me. "I'm dressed now."

  When he turns back and opens his eyes, I notice that his face is fire-engine red and his scrub pants....are tented...there. Oh my God. "I'm getting fired today, aren't I?" he asks.

  "Don't ask, don't tell," I offer with a smirk. Considering how much this guy has seen of me in the past three hours of my life, it's bit shocking that I could figure out how to put any type of smile on my face, but it's sort of there and I'm sort of okay with what's happening right now, against code or not.

  "Can I still drive you home?"

  "If you're okay with me possibly committing or whatever else could happen, on your passenger seat?"

  He grabs the medical paper and a sheet from the same drawer, folds them under his arm, and says, "Leak away. We're good."

  And this is how today is going. I'm probably going vomit or shit on Channing's passenger seat.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  "It would be weird if I said this was fun, right?" Channing...err...Noah asks.

  "If fun involves getting pulled over," I say, glancing in my side mirror. We weren't going that fast...

  "Damnit, I have a brake light out, I was going to fix it after work tonight. Already bought the stupid bulb and everything. Why now?" He's mumbling to himself, probably embarrassed for getting pulled over with me the car, but it's nothing I haven't dealt with a million times. I'm lucky I still have my license.

  I lean back against the seat, hoping to stay out of whatever conversation will ensue between him and the cop.

  "License and Registration, please," the cop says.

  Channing leans over toward me and pulls his wallet out of his back pocket, offering me a wink while doing so.

  "Here you go, Sir," Channing says.

  "Do you know why I'm pulling you over today?" the cop continues.

  "Yes, I have a broken brake light. I was planning to fix it after work today," he explains.

  "Seems to me like you're taking part in a little after work activity," the copy says, leaning down and placing his face in the window's frame.

  Of. Fucking. Course.

  "Sydney," Anders says. "Funny running into you today."

  "I--I" I have no words to say.

  "You two know each other?" Channing pipes in.

  "Actually, yes, Sydney and I were on a date last night, and she kindly ditched me while I was in the restroom." He's making this sound way worse than what happened. I think. No, maybe it was that bad. Yeah, I was a jerk.

  "Hmm," Channing says. "I'm sure she had a logical explanation. Last night." I can hear Channing/Noah, whatever his name is, working through the questions that are likely revolving in his head. He looks over at me and curls the corner of his lip with sympathy. "Your latest episode." He mouths the words to me, not asking, just silently confirming, commiserating, and understanding.

  "I don't know. I guess now that we're here, you could possibly enlighten me, Sydney," Anders says.

  "I--I--" Why is this so hard? "I think I had food poisoning."

  "Oh, well, why didn't you say so? I would have brought you home." Anders says, his voice sweetened with understanding. "Come to think of it, I wasn't feeling too hot myself last night." Anders rests his arms on the window frame of Channing's car. I'm pretty sure if Anders wasn't a cop, Channing would shoo him away like a fly. "Look, I'm so sorry for assuming anything, can I make it up to you? Can we go out again?" Did he not smell what happened in that bathroom? He'd want to go out with me again? That's a first.

  "She's lying," Channing says. "She didn't have food poisoning. She has a serious case of Irritable Bowl Syndrome without a cure at this moment. She's in no condition to be dating right now."

  "Channing--Noah!" I snap. He looks over at me, no apology in his eyes, no smile. Just a straight face.

  "Yeah, man, unless you want to smell what the Rock is cooking every night, I'd give Sydney a little time to air out." I cannot believe he is saying all of this right now. I could slap him, but he's too goddamn pretty to be slapped! What the hell?

  "Oh, God, that's awful," Anders says. "Look, I'll just let you off the hook with your brake light. Take care of it tonight, you understand?" Anders stands up and taps the hood of the car a few times. "Take care of yourself, Sydney. If you're ever feeling better, give me a call." Meaning, if I'm ever normal again, let him know.

  The window closes and Noah looks over at me. "Saved you heartache."

  "No, you embarrassed the shi--"

  "Watch what you say right now, missy."

  "Funny. That wasn't funny."

  "It was all true. The truth sucks and you find out real quick who can handle the truth and who c
an't. Plus, I don't want you going out with that dickwad. He's out with a different chick every time I see him downtown."

  "He is?" I ask. Anders said he didn't have luck with women...

  "Anders With The Manners has made a name for himself here. Trust me, you don't want in on that."

  "What's it to you?" I ask. Why would he care what I was doing, and what right does he have preventing me from being someone's one-night stand?

  He doesn't answer me as he pulls down the few side streets to my apartment. So, this is fun.

  I unclick my seatbelt and reach for the handle on the door. "Thanks for the anal probing today," I offer.

  Noah laughs and covers his hand over his eyes for a brief second. "There's really nothing good to say right now, is there?"

  "I guess not, but I do appreciate you breaking all doctor codes to drive me home, oh, and then ruining any chance I had at getting laid by a hot cop."

  "This is terrible," he says through a sigh. "Sydney, yes, I've broken all sorts of rules today, and I'm a total creep for grabbing your breast and definitely staring at your ass for the wrong reason today, so since I was already going to doctor hell, I made the decision to try and prevent you from being another one of Ander's one night stands. But with all of that said, can I ask you to...would you maybe want to have dinner with me some night?"

  Dinner. Dinner with someone who has seen every part of me that I would never want any man to see. A man who already knows about my issues and commiserates. A man who completely turned me on today when he accidentally violated my poor little breast. What is there to say no to? "Noah, you're a very sweet doctor, and there are extra points mixed in there for putting your job on the line for me today, but..."

  "But...I know where that goes. Do you have any idea how much I hate the word 'but'? Buts cause a gut-punching pain no matter what the occasion. Get it?" He laughs at my almost rejection. His laugh sounds full of embarrassment, though. "Come on, Sydney, don't blow me off."

  "Yeah, but..."

  "Hey, what did I just tell you about saying that word. That is like a four letter word to us people, so stop it."

  I can't help but laugh at his quick remarks and his determination. "Noah..."

  "You can call me Channing if it helps," he winks. My God. Right...he heard that. Stupid sedation word vomit. "Okay, I have a better idea. Don't answer me right now. Think about it. When I call you back with your test results, I'll check in with you then."

  My cheeks are hot, and they become hotter as I stare at the deep dimples highlighting his perfectly symmetrical smile--a smile that surrounds his perfectly white teeth. I'm smiling now, and I wasn't even forcing it. How could I not smile at him? Why am I not answering him what I want to answer him? Of course I want to go out with him. Something this good could never be true, though, and after last night, I'm not sure I can dive back in again. Plus, what if I make a decision in my still partially sedated state, and I come to find out after that Channing really looks like Napoleon Dynamite. I should be thinking straight before I agree. Or maybe I shouldn't be. "Noah, I think I'd..."

  "Nope. Now you have to wait to answer me. I'll call you as soon as your results are in."

  "Okay," I say quietly, realizing I'm now biting down on my bottom lip. Hey, Sydney...FYI, you're sitting on a towel, which is covering medical paper in case your stomach wants to explode on this nice leather seat. Stop biting your lip. There is nothing sexy about this particular moment.

  I open the car door and step out carefully, feeling a small gush from the netherlands fill my medical undies. Oh God. I grab the towel and the paper layer, tucking it quickly under my arm. "Oh, I can take care of that," he offers.

  I let out a snorting chuckle, an embarrassing sound to go along with what I'm feeling in my pants right now. "I'll clean the towel and return it, but thank you." Oh my God, what if I leaked through my pants. I'm going to be walking away toward my front door, and he's going to have a great view of my ass. Please, God, don't let it be covered with leaking residue. Thinking fast, I hold the towel casually behind me as I wave goodbye with the hand filled with paper. "Thanks again." I waddle-run quickly to the front door, struggling with my purse to grab my key with my already filled hand. He's the kind of guy who doesn't leave until he sees I'm safely inside. Of course! Of course. I find the perfect man while my fucking ass is leaking!

  After what feels like way too long, I close myself inside, finding myself alone in the apartment, which isn't a surprise since Lori never answered her phone.

  How is this my life? Why are these the cards I've been dealt? Fucking Jokers.

  As if Lori knew I was home safely and no longer needed her help, my phone starts ringing with her Gwen Stefani ringtone "Hollaback Girl". She programmed it into my phone one night and won't change it for me and I can't figure out how she did it. Jerk.

  "Hey," I answer.

  "I'm SO sorry. Are you still there? I'm coming to get you right now. Are you okay?"

  "I'm fine. I'm already home, don't worry."

  "You didn't Uber did you?"

  Is that a verb now? I was calling it a cab up until a few weeks ago when I was corrected for the tenth time by Lori and Kate. "No."

  "The hospital is like a five-mile walk, though, and you just had a camera..."

  "I didn't walk, Lori. It's fine. I'll talk to you when you get home later."

  "Well, my meeting is over, I'm on my way home now," she huffs as her horn blares in the background. "Watch it, asshole! God. These people today." The horn goes off again. "Yeah, screw you too!"

  "Lori," I interrupt her rage. "I'm going to go lay down for a bit. I'm still kind of out of it."

  "Wait. Wait. Okay, so you didn't Uber it, and you didn't walk, and I know you don't have any other friends besides Kate and me, so who drove you home, because I'm now starting to think you have a secret man you're hiding from me." Am I that transparent? I guess that's what happens when you live with people, you know more than you should...and I've been living with the two of them for way too long. "You've been silently thinking to yourself for ten seconds. What the hell is his name?" Lori presses.

  "Dr.--"

  "No you didn't," she interrupts me. She doesn't even know what I was going to say.

  "Didn't what?" I snap with anger.

  "You didn't let the guy who had his hand up your ass take you home, did you? Because that would be wrong on so many levels."

  "He didn't have his hand up my ass." Just nicely on top of it.

  "Oh my God. I swear, if this traffic doesn't go any faster I'm parking on the side of the road and running home so I can hear more about this."

  "I'll talk to you when you get home," I groan. I'm aware of how miserable I sound, and it's probably because I need a two-day nap right now. At least that would allow me to sleep through this dinner I don't plan on attending with Kate and Lori tonight.

  "Okay, okay. Just don't forget about dinner tonight. Carmichaels at six sharp."

  No. Just, no.

  I curl up on my bed, pulling my comforter over my head, hiding from the embarrassing memories of the past few hours.

  As if I were drugged, which I was, I fall asleep within what feels like only seconds.

  ***

  And if my exhaustion is any indication of how long I actually slept for...it has only been five minutes. Lori is shaking me awake, bouncing down on the bed. "Tell me. Tell me!"

  "Go away," I whine. "I'm on drugs."

  "Right," she snorts. "Unlikely story."

  "No really, the sedation meds...I'm so tired."

  She bounces off my bed, and I hear her banging crap around in the kitchen, quickly returning with a large ass mug of coffee. Black, by the looks of it. "Drink. And talk."

  "Ugh," I groan groggily, pulling myself up to a seat. "He's just a resident."

  "Is he butt ugly?" You're so fucking funny. "Kidding."

  "No, he's not. And he grabbed my boob by accident. His hands are nice." I ca
n't stop the smile from stretching across my lips, all because a hot doctor grabbed my boob.

  "Uh, what? Do you know how many rules he broke by the two small little facts you've shared with me?"

  "Yep."

  "He looks like Channing."

  "No he doesn't," she argues. "Channing had his hand up your ass?"

  "Oh my God, Lori. That's not how a colonoscopy works!"

  "Whatever, minor details." She bounces lightly, straightening her posture, which makes my stomach flip. I'm really feeling like shit, pff, shit. "Wait, did you guys fuck? Like, are his minor details big details? Tell me you know."

  "When exactly would that have happened?" I retort with a snarl.

  "When his hand was resting on your ass, or when he grabbed your boob, I don't know...during a normal time when someone might get fucked?"

  "No, it wasn't like that."

  "He grabbed your boob." I lean over and grab Lori's boob. "Oops, sorry, that was an accident."

  She whips away, swatting at my arm. "Okay, you need a nap. Crabby much?"

  "Thank you," I say coldly, pulling the sheets back over my head.

  I hear her slap the coffee mug down on the nightstand. "I'm setting your alarm for four o'clock so you have time to get ready for tonight."

  "I'm not going," I argue. "I'm leaking ass juice."

  "First, ew. Second, shove a tampon up there." Dear God, get this girl out of my room.

  I hear her playing around with my phone, but I don't have the energy to fight anymore.

  CHAPTER SIX

  "Wakey Wakey!" It's an earthquake. It has to be. I was just having the best sleep I've ever had. Why must you wake me?

  "Whatttt?" I groan. Not like that'll do anything. Kate and Lori, both blurry figures standing in front of me, dressed like they're goddamn celebrities, holding up something they definitely did not take out of my closet. Something that will most definitely showcase my boobs, ass, and everything in between. And those shoes...hell no. I just had my ass probed today. "So, no."