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I draw a breath. “I can’t believe you told Dr. Carver.”
“About what?” Laura, the redhead who can’t stitch to save her life, asks innocently.
I point my eyes to the ceiling and tap my arm.
“Oh. You mean about you being a virgin?”
I glare at her.
She places a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Ellis. She’s not the only one who knows. We told everyone.”
My fingers clench into a fist. “Why?”
She shrugs. “Because you’re a virgin?”
The others chuckle.
She gives a fake gasp. “Oh, wait. Did you want us to keep that a secret? We’re so sorry.”
I roll my eyes.
You think other people stop picking on you when you graduate from high school? Think again.
“Oh, come on, Ellis.” She pats my shoulder. “It’s not a big deal.”
Apparently it is, or she wouldn’t have told the whole hospital. Front page news.
“Yeah,” Marcus seconds. “So what if you’ve never been laid? The worst thing that can happen is… well, people will try to help you.”
“I can help.” Asher winks at me.
I narrow my eyes at him. “No, thanks. I’d rather get run over by a truck.”
The others snicker but Asher keeps a serious face as he steps forward.
“So you want it rough, huh? I can do that.”
Laura pushes him aside. “Nope. If you’re going to have sex for the first time, it has to be with someone who isn’t going to rip you open.”
Asher looks at her. “You still look whole to me.”
Laura ignores him and points to the pencil-neck nurse in the corner. “Take that guy, for example. He looks… harmless to me.”
Asher snorts. “You mean he looks like he won’t know what he’s doing. Chances are they’ll both end up in the ER with things in places where they shouldn’t be.”
Laura laughs.
Marcus lifts a finger. “Oh, you mean like that fifty-year-old couple who – ”
“Alright, that’s enough, children,” I tell them. “I’m leaving.”
I turn on my heel.
“Children?” I hear Laura snort behind me. “You’re the one who’s a virgin.”
And she’s going to seize every chance to remind me of that fact, is she?
I put my bonnet on before stepping out of the hospital. A chilly breeze greets me and I rub my arms through the sleeves of my coat.
It may not have started snowing yet – I’ve been told that lately, snow doesn’t fall in Chicago until December – but it sure is freezing cold. Thank goodness I live just a block away. Maybe I’ll add a cup of hot chocolate to the things I’ll be doing when I get home.
I tuck my hands into the warmth of my pockets and start walking. After a few steps, I sigh.
I should never have said I was a virgin. I didn’t mean to. The fact just slipped out while I was washing a ten-year-old’s vomit out of my hair. I didn’t even think Laura heard me. But of course, she did. And of course she couldn’t keep her mouth shut.
Why is it such a big deal anyway? So what if I’m a virgin? I’m still human. I’m still a woman. And it doesn’t impair my cognitive skills or any aspect of my physical performance in any way. What? Just because I’ve never had sex, I’m suddenly not qualified to be an expert on the human body? Hello, I’m a medical intern? Or do they think that because I’ve never been laid, I’m thinking about it all the time? Hell, no. I mean I’ve thought about it a few times, mostly while we were studying anatomy in medical school. But do I look at every man and want to have sex with him? No. I’ve never even seen a man I want to have sex with. Not in real life, anyway. I’ve never met a man who’s made my heart beat so wildly it might come out of my chest, who’s excited me as much as the thought of putting on surgical gloves can, who’s made me feel so breathless and yet so alive and…
My thoughts skid to a halt along with my feet as my gaze is drawn to the man across the street. More than six feet tall. Rings of jet black hair. Thin lips curved into a smile. He’s on his phone. That’s why he’s stopped walking. His other hand won’t keep still, though. His fingers run through his hair or through his thin beard. He loosens his maroon scarf. He pulls a flap of his coat back as he grips his hip, revealing a wide, toned chest and a flat stomach and making me wonder what else he’s hiding beneath those layers of clothes. Even from this distance, I can tell he has a great body. I can see gorgeous, chiseled features stained with the light from the street lamp he’s standing under. Is he some kind of model? An up-and-coming celebrity?
Whoever he is, I can’t keep my eyes off him. Even when he’s done with his phone call and starts to walk away, I still find myself staring. Only when he’s out of sight do I feel myself breathing again, do I feel my heart pulsing in my rib cage, this time with a slight spring in its beat.
