Page 321 of The Doctors Will See You Now

“I think someone is trying to avoid the whole Scott and friends with benefits topic…” my mother singsonged, and I rolled my eyes.

“Obviously.”

She laughed at my response, and, after I’d taken my dirty dishes into the kitchen, I made my way back into the living room. I slipped my shoes off, plopped my lazy ass onto their cozy sofa, and flipped on the television while I finished out a quick text conversation with Scott. He wanted to meet up at some point today, which I was more than open to, but when he sent the last message of How about your apartment? I chose to send back I’m ignoring you now.

The nosy bastard was determined to figure out where I lived, but I wasn’t ready to cave on it.

Oh, but you can let him inside your vagina all the time?

My brain really needed to shut the fuck up for a little bit.

While I mindlessly watched a rerun of The Office, doing my best to fall into a Nutella coma, my phone buzzed with an email. It was a notification for the latest Celebrity News articles that had just gone live. I scrolled through the new headlines but stopped abruptly on the third one from the top.

DATING NEWS: Dr. ER might be off the market, ladies.

What the what?

As I clicked on the article’s link and scanned through another columnist’s words, I was mostly wondering why in the hell I didn’t get this exclusive.

I mean, I was having the sex with him, not Kimmie Marie from fucking Celebrity News.

But as I continued to read the article itself, something else took high priority in my mind.

Kimmie prattled on about Scott attending an event called Benefit for Bab(i)es, and apparently, when he was asked about his ongoing status of never bringing a date to events, he’d answered, “Not tonight, but maybe soon.”

Not tonight, but maybe soon?

What in the ever-loving fuck was that supposed to mean?

Was he talking about me?

Outside on the sidewalk, the sun beating down on my heavy shoulders, I stared down at the text message exchange I’d had with Harlow earlier that morning.

Me: Can I see you?

Harlow: Are you in need of the sex?

My lungs still burned as I thought of how she’d react when I fully explained what I really wanted. But then, in text message wasn’t the time for it.

No, this is a conversation for in person.

Me: I always need the sex.

Harlow: LOL At least you’re honest. My day is jam-packed, though. Breakfast at my mom’s right now, and then we’re apparently also eating lunch later in the city. I’ll be as big as a whale by the end of the day.

Me: Ooh. What restaurant? Let me eat through you.

Harlow: LOL Hot House. I’ll be free later this afternoon. I’ll meet you somewhere, and you can eat through me, all right.

Me: Hot damn. How about your apartment?

Harlow: I’m ignoring you now.

She hadn’t said anything then, and really, I think that was the starting point of my current semi-psychotic break. Realistically, she was probably just at lunch with her mom and practicing a little-known habit of actually paying attention to the person you were dining with rather than your phone.

But, yeah. All of this…all of these emotions—something I was horrifically unfamiliar with—were eating at me, and she’d been seemingly doing the dip on me when it came to her apartment since the day I’d met her.

And now, here I was, outside of Hot House, intentionally following Harlow.