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I point out the OB/GYN’s office up ahead just in case he’s forgotten what it looks like in the weeks since my last appointment. The old stone building feels out of place among the vinyl-sided homes on the street. Ollie pulls into the parking lot, turns off the car, and looks to me.
“I’m serious, Nat,” he says. “We are going to check off every single task on your summer bucket list, starting with getting you laid. Convincing my dad to let us move into my grandpa’s old lake house is just the second step toward achieving our goals.”
“What was step one?” I ask as I unbuckle my seatbelt.
“You getting an IUD.”
He wags his eyebrows suggestively.
I do, in fact, have a summer bucket list—or afuck-it list, as Ollie sometimes likes to call it. Most of the tasks I’ve laid out are pretty boring. Read fifteen novels, see a fireworks show, spend a day at Dollywood. But at the top of the list is something far more personally significant: I want to lose my virginity.
At twenty years old, I feel like I’ve fallen behind most of my peers in the sex department. Ollie certainly passed me by a long time ago. As with everything else, I’m going to go about it carefully. I’ve already chosen the guy I’m going to give it to and the place where I’d like to lose it—geographically speaking. I had my IUD inserted exactly four weeks ago, and today’s check-up is just to make sure everything’s still in place.
And then…Thenthe summer can finally begin.
“I’ll text you when I’m done,” I tell him.
Ollie nods and turns the car back on, along with the A/C and stereo.
“Have fun,” he says with a cheeky wave.
I slide out of his car and head into the doctor’s office. A blast of cold air greets me as I walk through the front door, and I shiver as I approach the reception desk.
“Hi, I have an appointment. Last name Bellows.”
The smiling receptionist checks her monitor for my information.
“Bellows... May I have your date of birth?” She confirms my identity and nods. “Great, thank you. Before we send you back, I need to inform you that Dr. Longmire had an unexpected emergency this morning and had to go home. The remaining practitioners are splitting her patients between them, so wait times may be a little longer than usual. Would you still like to be seen today? If not, we can reschedule you for two weeks from now.”
I gnaw the inside of my cheek as I consider my options. If Ollie and I can convince his dad to let us move into the lake house tonight, we can get the place cleaned up and ready for a party as soon as this weekend. I don’t love the idea of having a stranger all up in mypersonalbusiness, but I don’t want to have sex until I know for sure that my IUD is good to go. I’m on a tight schedule; waiting two weeks isn’t an option.
“I’ll see whoever can take me today,” I tell the receptionist.
“Please have a seat. We’ll call for you shortly.”
I grab a seat in the waiting room and send Ollie a quick text letting him know my appointment might run a few minutes late. Thankfully it doesn’t take long for the medical assistant to call my name and take me to the exam room. After taking my height and weight, she instructs me to remove my clothes and put on the gown laid out for me. I change out of my clothes and put on the patient gown, then take a seat on the edge of the exam table, laying the paper sheet across my thighs.
Within minutes, the door opens and in place of the bespectacled forty-something woman who inserted my IUD, in walks a very tall, well groomed, dark-haired man.
Oh no. Nonononono… This can’t be happening.
“Natasha Bellows?” The handsome doctor nods politely as he shuts the door behind him. He sets the laptop he’s carrying down on the desk in the corner and takes a seat on the rolling stool. “It says here you had an IUD inserted four weeks ago.”
His ocean-blue gaze pierces straight through me, robbing me of the ability to form full sentences.
“Yep,” I squeak.
This man—this doctor—iswaaaytoo hot, not just in general, but for his age. How is this even allowed?
I demand to speak with someone in charge…
His pale blue button-down shirt clings to his broad shoulders and tapered waist. The five o’clock shadow stippling his jawline is so unapologeticallymaleit makes me bite my lip. This guy isn’t just hot, he’s a walking thirst trap. My pelvic exam is just a pit stop on the way to his regularly scheduled Instagram shoot.
“Ms. Bellows?”
Oh God... He caught me staring.
“Sorry, what?” The paper blanket crinkles in my fists.
