"The pleasure is all ours," Liam says, placing his hand on top of mine. I know what that's code for. And while that code would stand for something incredible with him, there is, in fact, a tampon up my ass and yeah...not drunk enough to forget that. "It was especially nice meeting ya, Syd-nea." He lifts my hand and presses his lips against my knuckles, shooting a current of warmth through my already ignited body. "I put my number in your phone while you were in the ladies room. Call me." With one last wink from Liam, the dreamy Irishman, Lori is tugging at my arm, pulling me from my seat.
"You are shitttttttfaced," she sings, pulling me harder. "Let’s get you home, lovey dove."
"Where's Kate?" Why didn't I notice her get up and leave? I look around in search for her as Lori is reaching for the door that leads to the upper deck. There she is. Making out with...the ship captain? How? Never mind. I've learned not to ask questions. Mostly for the fact that I just don't know if I can ever stomach the answers.
Lori and I Uber it home without Kate, who is assumedly pitching the captain’s tent in the boat. That makes no sense. But what makes sense when you've had a lovely bottle of wine? Nothing.
When we make it into the apartment, I kick my heels off, letting each one bounce against the corner wall, hearing two loud thuds. "I'm so proud of you," Lori says while removing her large, dangly earrings. "You had fun tonight, and you actually smiled. I might say it's a miracle."
It is nothing less than a miracle. "I did have fun," I tell her.
"What changed your mood so suddenly, she asks?" With a rubber band pinched between her teeth, she combs her long hair up into a high ponytail and scrunches it into some weird knot. "Well?"
"It's a long story. One that includes a tampon and my ass."
Lori closes her eyes as a tight-lipped smile stretches across her cheeks. "You didn't. You actually took my advice." She isn't asking. I think she wants me to confirm that I'm lying. What's donning on me is the fact that at some point tonight, both Lori and Kate separately suggested I shove a tampon up my ass. Is this a thing? Or something they had already planned for me?
"I did it, yes."
"Holy mother of...how are you going to get that thing out of there? And I had a feeling that was you with the gas situation...damn."
"I'll be fine," I assure her, needing to reassure myself. Part of me would like to just go to sleep with it but what if my ass turns into this upward vortex and the tampon gets lost in my intestines, and I have to go see Dr. Channing to have it removed. That would be...fucking terrible.
"Let me know if you get into a hole...lot of trouble," she laughs.
I ignore her continuous laughter as she closing herself into her bedroom. I throw my purse down onto my bed and watch as my phone flies out, landing perfectly on the edge of my mattress, right in front of me, lit up with a text message from an unknown number.
I click the message, noticing the blurriness of my vision due to the state of inebriation I'm still in. I squint harder to make out the words.
Unknown Number: I was planning to wait until I had your test results to follow up with my proposition from earlier today but I'm sorry to say I've been thinking about you all afternoon and that cute little butt of yours.
Unknown Number: Bad joke, I know.
Unknown Number: Inappropriate joke.
Unknown Number: I'm losing my license, joke.
Unknown Number: I've had a few beers, and I shouldn't even have your number, but here I am sending you an inappropriate message hoping you don't sue the pants off of me.
Unknown Number: I mean, I wouldn't want you to sue my pants off, but you could...okay, anyway...bite the bait if you don't think I'm a total psycho who is about to be jobless for the rest of his life.
Dr. Channing gets drunk and drunk dials, and...likes me. That's so wrong. Yet, my thighs are pressed awfully tight together right now, and yup...I'm turned on. I snatch my phone and do something sober Sydney would never do.
Me: I want to go out with you.
Me: I had a long night and I'm drunk. I wouldn't get you fired or rat you out.
Me: You look like Channing Tatum.
Me: And I might have a tampon stuck in my ass.
Delete. Delete. Delete. Why can't I freaking delete a text???? Why does it say sent? I didn't really want to send that. Drunk Sydney types faster than her brain can work and now I just told Channing that I have a tampon up my butt.
Unknown Number: Um. Sydney...
Oh God. Why? Of course I would have to ruin a great night. I am never drinking again. This is why I don't do this. This. Shove tampons up my ass or drink a fucking bottle of wine and text a gorgeous doctor who had his hand on my bare ass today and grabbed my breast.
Unknown Number: Despite the reason you might have for doing that...
Here comes the lecture. I'm guessing a tampon up the asshole is not doctor approved. Or Channing approved.
Unknown Number: It's kind of hot.
Yeah. No.
Me: See, you just ruined a good thing.
Unknown Number: I'm coming over your apartment right now. Tell me 'no' if you don't want me to.
What? No! Why would he come here? I just met him today while he was giving me a colonoscopy. Why would he come to my house? That's not appropriate. He's my doctor. I need to tell him no right now. God! No!
I take the phone and hover my finger over the "n", but I can't figure out how to make contact with the phone's screen. Or maybe I don't want to. Or...I need to go freshen up and get this tampon out of my ass right this second and pray everything stays put. No. This is so bad. Worst idea ever. This is not going to end well.
Or it might.
It has been a good five minute since the moment I realized I couldn't figure out how to type "no" on my phone. Such an easy word that could have prevented Dr. Channing from coming over to my apartment at midnight--whatever hour it is.
With as tired as I am, I'm not sure how I have the patience to sit at the edge of my bed, staring at the door with curiosity if Dr. Channing will actually show up at this hour. Slightly shifting my weight to lean back on my elbows, an abrasive reminder of a foreign object obstructing my asshole reminds me of its presence.
Shit. Or not. No shit, that's funny. I drag myself off the bed and into the bathroom to tackle this issue, praying that the string is still hanging and the friction of my ass cheeks don't win.
Once inside the bathroom to tackle the cotton demon, I take ahold of the sink with one hand, reach around with the other and...
And...
Fuck.
Fuck!
"Fuck!!!!!"
"What the hell is going on in there?" Lori shouts, banging her hand against the door. "Are you okay?"
"No, I'm not okay!" I shout back.
"Um, Syd, are you expecting a visitor?"
Oh, come on. Give me a break already. "No." Yes, I am. Why am I lying? "Yes, I mean."
"You're expecting someone at two in the morning? Sydney doesn't have two-in-the-morning guests."
"Please stop," I cry out. Still tugging at the damn string that is not budging at all. Why would I have done something so stupid? I know better than this. I work at OB for crying out loud. I know what goes where and what should never go there. The crap I've heard behind those glass windows are things I only wish I could unhear. People get toys and sharp objects stuck up their hoohah. No one has lost a tampon up their asshole though. I would be a first for that in our office, which is exactly why I need to get this thing out.
I hear a groan from outside of the bathroom door, followed by stomping across the wooden floors. The stomping stops somewhere in the living room, and I'm assuming it's at the front door where the increasingly loud knocking sound is coming from.
"Wow," Lori laughs. "You do look like Channing..."
Why. Why? Why must this always be the way.
"So I've heard from our good friend Sydney. She alright?" Are their voices really loud? Or do I sud
denly have bionic hearin?. Next, someone's going to be shouting about me shoving a tampon up my ass.
Maybe not.
I only hear silence. Knowing my luck, Lori is having her way with Dr. Channing in the living room while I'm trying to remove a tampon from the wrong place.
The thought of this actually makes me tear up. It's most likely the entire bottle of wine now screwing with my emotions but I might have really thought there was a possibility I could like him, whether it was just for his looks or the simple fact that he gets me, there was a spark I couldn't ignore.
With a sigh of relief, my body relaxes against the despair, and the tampon finally comes loose, shooting out like a...never mind.
As I flush the thing down the toilet, another knock--a closer knock rumbles against the bathroom door.
"Need a doctor's gentle touch?" With how disturbing that question sounds, I jump in front of the bathroom mirror, rubbing away at the mascara lines under each eye. I pull my dress down tightly over my hips, press my shoulders back and open the door as if nothing were wrong. As if I didn't just struggle to pull a tampon out of my ass.
There he is. He could seriously be Channing's twin. Rugged and tall--the word handsome doesn't even apply since he's way above par, and yet the only thing I can focus on is the sweet dimply smile tugging at his incredibly plump lips. And Flowers. He has flowers, while standing at my bathroom door. Not just any flowers, but Stargazer lilies, which are my favorite. How would he even know that?
"You brought me flowers?" I ask, unsure of the look that might be on my face right now.
"I had a feeling you might need something nice to smell," he says, his smile growing a touch wider. I'd like to say he has no idea how true that statement is, but I'm guessing he knows exactly how true that statement is. "You were so distracting today that I might have failed to mention the bloating and gaseous side effects to a colonoscopy. Is that why you..."
"Anyway...thank you for the heads up," I tell him. Wait... Is that why I...
"You get that thing out?" he continues. Thing? Did I tell him?
"What do you mean?" I question.
He holds up his phone, showing me my last text message to him. "How much did you have to drink tonight?" he asks.
"She had an entire bottle of wine, Lori chirps from the living room, obviously eavesdropping. "I was proud of her." I can almost hear her fist pumping the air.
"So you're drunk?" Channing asks.
I smell beer on his breath, and I see the glossy look in his eyes. Regardless of it possibly being from exhaustion at this hour, I'm guessing he's a little inebriated too. "I didn't know doctors drank or partied so late at night."
"I'm not your typical doctor," he insists.
"You're right. I've never seen a doctor look like..."
"Channing?" He laughs. "Are you calling me Dr. Channing?"
I close my eyes, feeling slightly embarrassed. To think what I'd feel like if I were sober is almost past the point of hilarity now. "Maybe."
"That's adorable." His hand reaches around my waist. "I don't want to lose my job, Sydney. So tell me, if I come any closer to you, are you okay with that?"
"We only met today," I remind him. Sober Sydney is replacing drunk Sydney, like the clock striking midnight and Cinderella turning back into a house maid. "But, yes." Drunk Sydney is still fighting this fight.
"In your lonely world of chronic stomach pain and embarrassing moments, have you ever wished there was someone else exactly like you--someone you wouldn't have to run away from or feel embarrassed in front of?" It's like his words are a poetic sonnet from Shakespeare--my Romeo reciting words no one else around us understands, but the way in which he's saying them melts my heart. What the hell am I even thinking right now? Shakespeare? Drunk Sydney is definitely still here.
"Say no," he says again, stepping in closer. The beer on his breath is masked by a waft of his cologne, and I'm a goner.
"I can't do that," I tell him.
"Try to say no," he says.
"Sydney, if you say no, I'm going to come in there and do it myself, so..." Lori pipes in. I can guess she's now sitting at my bedroom door with a bowl of popcorn.
With my heart thundering and my wild, blurry thoughts, I look up into his eyes, dreaming of what might happen if this moment doesn't get ruined by anything else--if this moment isn't the dream I'm afraid it is. His lips curl into a small grin and the corners of his eyes follow, slanting into small curves. He leans down and brings his lips only a fraction of an inch away from mine. I can almost taste the beer he had been drinking earlier and it's delicious. "Last chance to say no."
I close my eyes and wait for what I had no idea I've been waiting for before today--just the lips of someone who gets me.
His lips are against mine, softly but firm as he inhales sharply through his nose. I'm melting into him, becoming a weak puddle of joy as his hands tighten around my waist, bringing me against his rock-hard body. The moment is floating above me like a cloud, and my body feels warm, as if his lips are causing electrical currents to melt the frozen walls I have built up over the years. It's like I've been awoken after a hundred years of sleep--a magical kiss that has made me realize I need more of this, of him, of being touched and wanted.
I don't know how long it has been when his lips part from mine, and part of me is still wondering if this really is some kind of dream because the man standing in front of me is the most beautiful human being I have ever seen in my entire life, and yet, he wanted to come all the way down here to give me flowers and a kiss.
"Thank you," is what I feel like I need to offer for my gratitude. Which is dumb. Who thanks a hot man for kissing them?
He laughs at me and follows it with, "Thank you."
A thank you kiss...
"How is your stomach?" he asks.
"Tied in knots," I respond honestly.
He takes my hand and leads me out to my bed. Unsure of what his intentions are and unsure of what I might actually comply to in this moment, he pulls down the comforter and the sheets. He takes the flowers from my hand and places them down gently on the nightstand. "You'll need water for these, but they'll be okay for the night." He pats the bed, summoning me to climb in. I do without an argument, hoping he might climb in next to me. That is so unlike me to say that but after that kiss, I might just do anything he asks. Once I'm settled in the bed, he pulls the covers up to my chin and leans down, placing a small, short kiss on my lips. "I hope you'll call me tomorrow."
I hope I call him tomorrow.
CHAPTER NINE
Two Weeks Later
"Dr. Hermit will be with you in just a few minutes," I tell the last patient of the day, which of course needed to show up ten minutes late for her appointment. Dr. Hermit never turns down a late patient, so I'm going to be late for my date.
I take my phone out of my bag and notice that I have four missed messages from Channing. I should stop calling him that at some point. Noah. Noah. Noah.
Noah: Your lab results are in.
Noah: There's a treatment.
Noah: You're going to make it.
Noah: I'll tell you everything tonight.
A treatment? How is that even possible? After all of the testing I have been through over the past few years, no one has come close to a treatment plan, other than cutting everything out of my diet.
Me: I can't wait to hear everything. I'm running a little late, though.
"It's a good thing, so was I," Noah says as he walks through the office doors.
"What are you doing here?" I ask in hush, worried Dr. Hermit might come looking for his last patient.
"Have you never been a princess on a pedestal before?" Noah asks.
"Nope, I've pretty much only been queen of the throne," I sigh.
"Queen of the..." A proud smirk blossoms over his lips. "I like that. The good old porcelain throne, huh?"
"Exactly."
"Well, I'm here to sweep
you off your throne."
His words make my heart flutter, and the footsteps of Dr. Hermit make my heart sink. Noah must see the look in my eyes because he lets himself out of the office before Dr. Hermit appears behind the desk beside me. "Julia," he calls out to his last patient. "Come on back."
The woman stands from her seat, smiling at me coyly. She mouths the words, "He's hot!" A warm blush creeps over my cheeks, as I consider once again pinching myself from what seems unreal.
"Have a good night, Sydney," Dr. Hermit laments. "I hope you have a lovely night with Dr. Lover Boy out there."
Oh God. That man sees everything. Everything!
I grab my bag and hurry out the front door. I'm quickly startled by a hand around my wrist, spinning me around until my chest is against his. Noah's hands are cupped around my cheeks, and his lips press tightly against mine. With his tongue teasing the tip of mine, I fall short of breath. I might have actually lost my breath, and he might have noticed because he creates a little space between us. "Are you okay?"
"You have to stop doing that?" I chuckle quietly while giving my lungs time to catch some air.
"Doing what?" I ask, sounding accused.
"Stealing my breath."
"I can't agree to that," he says, nodding his head. "I made reservations for us, but I don't think we're going to make them." He looks down at his watch and squints for a second. "Nope, definitely not."
"I'm so sorry. What if we just--" I've secretly wanted to suggest this all day...possibly all week.
He looks intrigued. "What if we--what?"
"Why don't we just go back to your place?" For the fact that I just got that out of my mouth, means I deserve an award. Lori and Kate would totally be patting me on the back right now.