Page 254 of The Doctors Will See You Now

I rolled to my side and snatched my phone off the nightstand before violently tapping the green phone icon to accept the call. “Stop it,” I muttered into the receiver. “Stop. The. Calling.”

“That bad?” Amanda’s slightly amused voice filled my ear, and I sighed in annoyance. My best friend was a morning person. And while, normally, I didn’t mind mornings, spending a couple hours in the emergency room to get my face stitched up after my date tossed me into his headboard sans a sexy ending didn’t equal a happy start to my day.

I should’ve found a way to disconnect all contact to the outside world and hibernate for the next seventy-two hours.

“Oh, hello, traitor,” I greeted. “Just FYI. You basically fed me to the horrible first-date wolves last night.”

“Excuse me?” She barked out a laugh. “How was your awful date my fault?”

“Because you wouldn’t help me escape it!”

“Oh, c’mon, Low. You were being ridiculous. You fucking asked me to call in a bomb threat to the restaurant.” I rolled my eyes. I took that one back, goddammit!

“I just needed a fake emergency,” I retorted. “And since you refused to help out your best friend, I ended up in the emergency room last night, thank you very much.”

“What?” she asked on a shout. “The emergency room? Oh my God! Are you okay?”

“Just a minor head injury that required some stitches. No big deal.”

“No big deal?” she exclaimed. “How is that no big deal, Low? What in the hell happened?”

“Well…let’s just say that if you ever enter a man’s bedroom and his headboard is made out of glass crystals like he’s Don fucking Corleone, do not engage in sexy times on his bed. You might end up bleeding all over his pristine white sheets after he accidentally tosses you toward it.”

“Holy shit, Low! You got injured while having sex last night?”

“It’d be nice if your side of this conversation would stop ending in questions. And we really don’t need to rehash it. I’m fine. My head is fine. Everyone is just fine, no thanks to you.”

The phone went dead silent for a few moments until Amanda’s stuttering giggles filled the void. They started out quiet, but eventually, her laughter dam broke, forcing breathless—and far too loud—laughs over the airwaves.

I cringed in response. My head wasn’t ready for the noise. “Stop laughing, asshole! It’s not that funny.”

“OhmyGod. Yes, it is,” she disagreed, nearly snorting. “I can’t believe you ended up with a sex injury.”

“You’re a terrible best friend.”

“Hey, now,” she retorted, only mildly offended. “I made sure you were actually okay first before I found enjoyment out of the logistical side of your injury. Cripes, I can’t believe Barron the Bore fucked you straight into the emergency room last night.”

“Wait…Barron the Bore? That sounds like an established nickname.”

“Uh…”

“Did you know he was boring before you set me up on this thing?”

Amanda had set some kind of goal of finding me a man who would encourage me to settle down. Obviously, it was a lost cause. I would never settle down, and the only reason I’d agreed to the date in the first place was because my craving for penis had gotten out of hand.

“Uh…” she muttered again.

“Amanda Marie,” I urged in my best mom voice impression. “Tell me the truth right now.”

Silence.

That double-crossing bitch. She’d known Barron was as thrilling as a bowl of oatmeal before she’d set me up on that goddamn date from hell.

“I’m hanging up on you now,” I muttered in warning before doing just that. I tapped the red phone icon to end the call and tossed my phone onto the sheets beside me.

The damn thing pinged a moment later with a text message notification.

Amanda: I love you.