ME: How? Please tell me you’re not a crazy stalker.
H: Not a stalker, I promise. It’s just a small town, and it’s hard to miss the new girl when she looks as good as you.
I’m blushing so hard I’m going to need an industrial fan to cool off. I rack my brain, but I’m positive I haven’t met a tattooed hottie named Harkness. That’s not exactly the kind of guy you forget.
ME: You know what your name made me think of?
H: How cruel my parents must be?
I laugh, debating whether I should tell him, but then I’m a dork. It’s just who I am. What’s the point of hiding it?
ME: Captain Jack Harkness.
I bite my thumbnail, waiting for him to ask who that is.
H: Excellent bottom! ??
ME: I’m impressed!
I laugh, pulling my fuzzy throw blanket over my feet and settling back with my phone...
H: Why? He’s only the single greatest character in Doctor Who.
ME: Well, that’s debatable.
H: Handsome, open-minded, eternal bad ass. What’s not to love?
ME: Nothing a single thing.
H: Thank God, because I was talking about myself. Can you imagine how awkward it would have been if you’d had an answer for that?
I send him an eyeball emoji, and he sends a wink right back.
ME: Alright, nerd. What else are you into?
I don’t think I’ve ever smiled this hard in my whole life.
6
Branson
My phone trills in my pocket, and I bite the inside of my cheek. Hard. I’ve developed an embarrassing Pavlovian response to the Curves Connections message chime, and I really can’t walk around the clinic with a boner just because I know Alex has something to say.
I duck into my office and shut the door. A week of texting back and forth with Alex has confirmed what I already knew the second we crashed into each other. She’s perfect for me.
I know I’ve had a pretty easy go of things. I don’t have some tragic past to cope with. My parents are decent and loving people. They certainly didn’t traumatize me—at least no more than the average parent does. It wasn’t hard to get into med school. It wasn’t hard to pay for it either. Being a legacy and coming from old, and I do mean old, money has made most of my life too easy.
But the things I actually had to work for, those are the parts of me I’m proud of. I earned the starting spot on my college football team. I earned my 4.0. Every paper, every lab, every test—I worked my ass off to get my medical license.
And the more Alex makes me work for it, the more certain I am. I want her. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anyone or anything in my life. Our conversations have been the highlights of my days. Every evening we take turns sending questions. Half of the time we get distracted and end up miles from where we started, but I’ve never enjoyed talking to a woman this much.
Alex has a wicked sense of humor. She’s sharp and sarcastic, stubborn and mouthy. And that personality, paired with those dead-sexy curves, makes her a walking wet dream. Every flirty thing she types sends my blood racing. I’ve become a walking hard-on, but it’s fucking worth it.
I drop into my chair and lean back as I read her message. She doesn’t usually message me until after dinner, but I’m not complaining.
ALEX: You busy?
ME: Not at all. Grill me to your sexy little heart’s content.