First Love: A Superbundle Boxed Set of Seven New Adult Romances (24 page)

“Here we are!” the cabbie said, jumping out to help open my door. He didn’t bat an eyelash when I climbed out and obviously wasn’t pregnant. I had some extra curves, sure—but no way was I about to deliver a full-term kid.

“You really hung on to your figure,” he admired. “You only look about five months along.”

Darla bit her lips and made a choking sound from the back of her throat. Mercifully, she paid and seemed to give a generous tip, because the driver smiled even wider as he sped off and called back, “Good luck!”

“I
really
hate you,” I shouted at her.

“All the girls say that as they’re crowning,” he called after us.

We walked through an enormous lobby that could have just as easily been a foyer at a luxury hotel. Straightening up, I walked with as much dignity as I could muster, which wasn’t much when you considered that my vagina doubled as a street sweeper.

The walk across those fake-marble floors was as inelegant and torturous as any I would ever experience, bar none. But I made it to a small desk near the emergency room, when Darla pulled out her phone and began tapping.

“Please?” I begged. “I haven’t said anything mean to you for two whole minutes.”

She looked at me like I had a phone in my vagina.

Oh, wait.

“I’m texting Alex,” she reminded me.

And then—
bzzzzzz
.

“You suck!” I hissed.

“That’s not me,” she snickered. The familiar tinkling sounds of
I Wasted My Only Answered Prayer
sprinkled lightly into the hallway, like fairly dust.

Juicy, slick fairy dust.

“Blame Sam for that one,” she said, not looking up from her texting.

Within twenty seconds one of the hottest men I had ever laid eyes on turned the corner next to the desk, tall and muscled, dark and looking like he was missing from the set of Grey’s Anatomy. Green scrubs, messy brown hair, and broad cheekbones, with dark eyes that made me want to disrobe and—

“Alex!” Darla cried out, going to give him a casual hug. As he bent down his eyes caught mine briefly, warm, centered eyes that oozed intelligence and confidence.

My knees pulsed with a tingly shock of shame. This was Alex? THE Dr. Alex?

McFuck me.

The world is so unfair.

Alex let her go and took a step toward me, offering his hand. “Hi. Alex Derjian. And you are Darla’s friend...”

“Amy.” The softness of his hands surprised me. Long surgeon’s fingers—literally, ones he used to deliver babies, gentle and strong—met mine in a firm grasp that showed respect. His eyes held mine a beat longer than needed. My hand stayed warm after he let go. It would take days for me to run through the scene again in my mind and realize that he hadn’t used his title.

“Darla said you needed some care that is confidential. Why don’t we go into this exam room—” he pointed to a small one across the hall—“and I’ll see what I can do.”

Darla followed, but Alex stopped her as I went in. “I don’t think you should come in.”

“Oh,” she said. “Um, you’re right.”

Anxiety shot through me. “No! I want her there. She can explain some things.”

“It’s not like I had anything to do with this, Amy. There’s nothing I can explain that you can’t.”

The idea of being alone with Alex in an exam room, getting a pelvic exam and having to explain why that was in there was just too much. Even the humiliation of having a friend in there was better than having no one in there.

Had I just called Darla a
friend
?

Alex watched our exchange with a detached curiosity. “It’s the patient’s call,” he said softly.

“In. Just don’t text me!” I hissed as Darla scooted in the tiny room.

Alex closed the door and leaned against a small counter with a sink and various medical instruments. He motioned for me to hop on the exam table. This time I really did need Darla’s help; I had never tried to get on a pelvic exam table without really opening my legs, and it turned out I wasn’t good at it.

By the time I was actually sitting on the thin white paper that covered the cheap vinyl, Alex’s face had morphed from gorgeously friendly to professionally curious. I had to think of him as a doctor. A savior.

The guy who would excavate my hoohaw to get the hidden treasure.

“You’re obviously in pelvic pain. So why don’t you tell me what happened,” Alex urged, crossing his arms over his chest in a non-defensive gesture.

Silence.

Darla cleared her throat.

My eyes filled with tears.

When had my life turned into a demented episode of
The Mindy Project
?

Saying the words aloud was just...I couldn’t. Once the words were out this was all true. Until I said it to the doctor it was just something stupid and private and ridiculous, a cosmic joke. But actually saying that I had—

“Her phone is stuck in her vagina,” Darla blurted out.

Couldn’t be stuffed back in, could it?

Darla had made it true.

I had to give Alex credit. He tried. He really, really tried to remain neutral and professional, but those beautiful eyebrows shot up under the stray wave of brown hair that covered his forehead. “I’m sorry, could you clarify?” His eyes bored into mine as he pointedly ignored Darla.

“Her phone—”

He cut her off with a reflexive hand, palm facing her, never taking his eyes off me. “I am talking to Amy.”

Nose out of joint, she made a sour face but stayed quiet. I couldn’t see her—my peripheral vision went to hell with the stress of what I was about to say.

“Darla is right,” I choked out.

“Your. Phone. Is. In. Your. Vagina?” he asked, each word a sentence, the tone of his voice even and unyielding. No hint of laughter or teasing in his eyes, face or body—thank God. Because I couldn’t handle that.

“Yes.”

He swallowed so hard I could see his Adam’s apple bob, but his face remained placid. “I see. And you’re certain?”

Darla snorted. “I think women know when an entire phone is shoved up in there, unless you have a vagina that’s so big sex is like throwing a hot dog down a hallway.”

Alex turned away, grabbed her upper arm, and whispered furiously, “You are not being helpful.”

“I’ve been plenty helpful!”

“Making jokes at her expense is not helpful.”

“C’mon. It’s funny and you know it.”

“Not to
her
.”

Alex was my new best friend. Darla was back off the list.

He turned back to me and bent at the knees to look me eye to eye. “I understand why you wanted to keep this private. I have to ask some questions, though.”

I nodded.

“How, exactly, did the phone get inside your vagina?”

“She tripped and fell. Oops! Happens all the time. Last week it was the cable remote,” Darla snickered.

“Shut up!” I said through gritted teeth, returning my eyes to Alex. “Do you know what a vibrator app is?”

“You mean an app like on the phone? There’s an app for
that
?”

Darla groaned. Alex didn’t seem to realize he’d made an accidental joke.

We both ignored her. “Yes,” I answered simply. “And I was using it, and...” With splayed hands, palms up, I gestured to my pelvis.

“Some women search all their lives for their G-spot,” Darla chimed in. “Amy was looking for her 4G spot.”

Both Alex and I
pointedly
ignored her.

“You were using the app to turn the phone into a vibrator and shoved it inside your vagina,” he said simply, nodding as if this were as plausible as saying, “You were walking your dog and tripped and tore your ACL.”

“No! No! It wasn’t like that.”

“How was it
not
exactly like that?” Darla argued.

“Shut up.”

“I can make her leave the room,” Alex said coolly. I was contemplating that very idea now as the words were out and the truth circulated in the air. His way of handling this was so rational and kind that whatever fears I’d had were—

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Twitching suddenly, I slid half off the exam table and almost fell on Alex, who deftly moved to catch and stabilize me.

“Was that—”

“Not me!” Darla held her empty hands high in the air. “Not me!”

I Wasted My Only Answered Prayer
played from my crotch.

The doctor, bless him, finally cracked a smile. Darla joined him, and then finally so did it.

“It’s like picking up a radio station with your fillings,” Darla joked.

He quickly regained composure and took a deep breath. “Step One is simple: Darla needs to leave. Step Two: I’ll insert a speculum and we’ll easily wiggle the phone out. Step Three is an exam to make certain there aren’t any lacerations.”

Having it logically laid out helped.

“I do need to ask you to do paperwork for the visit, but I think I can have that done after we’re finished, and we’ll just list something vague on the medical coding, Amy. I don’t think there’s an ICD code for ‘phone in vagina.’”

“People must come in with worse,” Darla said.

“No comment.”

“This is the worst thing you’ve seen in a vagina?” I squeaked.

“Oh, no—I just meant I wasn’t going to give Darla any lurid tales to take back to Trevor and Joe and share,” he assured me as he shooed Darla out.

“Quick comment,” Darla said as the door literally shut on her, Alex putting obvious muscle into it. “When you put the speculum in, be careful you don’t ruin the phone. Don’t want to compromise Amy’s chances for an upgrade.” If I could have thrown something at her I would have.

Once he’d locked the door behind her, I asked, “Have you ever seen a phone in...there? Like this?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I can’t say that I have.” Mercifully, I had an excuse to lie back and close my eyes then.

The procedure was remarkably easy. Note to self: buy a speculum to keep at home for emergencies. Alex removed the phone in less than five minutes, as if he’d done this a thousand times before.

“Bet that was the easiest birth ever,” I joked.

“It was the most interesting,” he said, a kind smile on his face. I could see why Darla had called him. Nice guy, smart guy.

Non-judgmental. I needed non-judgmental right now.

Alex left the phone on a piece of paper towel by the sink as I sat up, my legs still draped under the exam sheet. “You can wash that in the sink and tuck it in your pocket and no one’s the wiser. You do have a few small tears and raw spots inside, with a little bleeding at the cervix. You must have been in quite a lot of pain.”

A lump in my throat threatened what shred of equilibrium I had. I just nodded.

“I’m sorry it hurt so much. I’m just going to put ‘bleeding’ down for the reason you’re here. Which is the truth. Some of it, at least.”

“Thank you.”

“Nice meeting you, Amy, even if the circumstances weren’t ideal.”

“Nice meeting you too, Alex, and I really can’t thank you enough.”

And with that, he was out the door. As I slid one leg into my pants I heard a booming, joyful laugh from the hallway. I had to give him credit.

He’d held it together longer than most people could have.

Washing the phone was no big deal and yes—it worked fine. No worse the wear for nearly being my womb fruit. I found Darla leaning against the corridor wall just outside the room.

“Can you hear me now?” she yelled. She’d clearly been waiting to use that one.

“Shut up,” I groaned, rolling my eyes.

She reached for her phone, then stopped. “Can’t do that anymore, can I.”

“You are a psycho hose beast.”

“I am
your
psycho hose beast who just saved you, sister.”

“I hate you.”

She threw an arm around my shoulders and whispered in my ear. “You hate that I am the one who figured this out.”

The paperwork was easy to complete, and walking without phone pressed against my anus was a remarkably freeing feeling. After grabbing scones and coffee at a shop in the lobby, we walked outside and hailed a cab.

“Just think – dating will be so much easier now.”

“Huh?”

“You just have to say, ‘Siri, find my clitoris’ and the guy will – ”

I punched her – lightly – in the shoulder as she laughed, a cab responding to my raised hand.

This time I paid.

And she was right—I didn’t hate her.

Right now she and Dr. Alex were my favorite people.

Aside from Sam, that is. A quick check of my phone showed three messages from him. All were just little check-ins, the kind of text you send when you’re in a relationship.

How’s it going?

Miss you.:)

Call me. You free soon?

Little check-ins that had
bzzzzzed
me to a new level of horror, but that turned out to be so banal, so ordinary, that the juxtaposition against what I’d just experienced seemed surreal.

Everything seemed surreal.

Because it was becoming more real.

And there’s no app for that.

Chapter Seven

Sam

As I walked toward the apartment, beaten and bruised from eight hours of moving couches and end tables and boxes, I had $150 cash in my pocket (the owners tipped us—a nice bonus) and the new job lined up for tonight, so life was good.

Amy hadn’t answered my texts all day, so I jumped when my phone rang. Maybe this was her?

Nope. Trevor. “Hey, you got any ideas for a new permanent bass player? That new guy
sucked.
”

“It’s hard to join an existing band,” I said diplomatically. The problem, as we both knew, was really that he wasn’t Joe. Nobody would be as good with us as Joe. And we didn’t need anybody dragging us down—but saying the new guy
sucked
was taking it a bit too far. “I don’t have any ideas, though,” I admitted.

“That’s cool,” Trevor said, sighing. “I’ll give Tyler another chance. He definitely picked up some attention from the chicks in the crowd.”

“That means Darla thought he was hot.”

“Shut it.” Trevor barked. I’d hit a nerve. And then it was his turn as he asked, “So, what’s going on with Amy?”

Aha,
I thought,
that’s why he’s calling.
Because who calls another person instead of texting? Calling was so 1990s. “I don’t know,” I confessed. “I have no idea. I just know that Darla called me this morning and asked for Amy’s address, and I haven’t heard a word since.”