by Kira Barker
He aimed for an ambiguous shrug, but his acting skills clearly failed him there.
“It’s hard to ignore something when it’s the one thing you’ve needed to hear for a long, long time.”
My smile must have descended into stupid territory by then, but I didn’t care. Instead, I pushed myself up, then leaned over him, still smiling, and kissed him, my lids fluttering closed. And it felt like the best fucking thing in the world to do it without a hint of unease or self-consciousness or doubt. When I finally pulled away and looked at him, I saw him look back at me with what I figured was shining from my own eyes.
Love.
Reaching up, he trailed a finger softly down the side of my face, hovering close to my lips for a second. I turned my face into his palm, then playfully bit into his thumb, grinning around my prize. His smile widened into a grin, and suddenly he was over me, pushing me into the blanket with most of his weight, his lips hungrily seeking mine. And then he was tickling me, making me shriek and try to push him off, his laughter almost drowning out my shouts, but not quite. I was sure that we were drawing quite the number of disapproving stares, but I really couldn’t have cared less about it.
Jack finally relented but didn’t ease up, remaining crouched over me, keeping me locked inside the cage of his body. I smirked up at him, breathless, trying to come up with the best route of retaliation. But then I saw the look on his face soften into that beautific smile again that warmed something deep inside of me and let me abandon my plans—for now.
“Say it,” he told me, then leaned in for a quick peck on the lips that let him remain close enough that I felt his breath fan across my face. “I want to hear you say it.”
“What, that you’re an ass? Get off me,” I huffed, trying in vain to push against his shoulders. Very nice shoulders, perfect for sinking my fingers into, but that wasn’t even what was on my mind right now.
“You know what I mean.”
“I don’t,” I quipped back.
Sighing, he stole another kiss, then continued to grin down at me. “What’s so hard about it? Just say, ‘I’m madly and utterly in love with you, Jack.’ There, just“—he paused, counting in his head—“ten words. Only takes a second or two.”
“Took you longer than that to count,” I teased.
“Just say it!”
Settling back more comfortably against the ground, I continued to smile up at him, trying to come up with a few obscenities instead, but then relented when I realized that I really did kind of want to say it.
“I’m madly and utterly in love with you, smartass.”
He made a face, but it quickly dissolved into another smile as he leaned in.
“I’ll take that. It’s more about the sentiment, anyway.” A kiss followed. “And I’m smart.” Another kiss. “And kind of an ass.” A deeper kiss now. “But that’s exactly why you love me.”
“You’re so fucking full of yourself, you know tha—“
He didn’t let me finish that sentence but shut me up the best way possible, and, really? I didn’t feel like protesting that at all.
Chapter 15
We remained at the lake until the sun set and most people were long gone, leaving us some privacy to fool around—on an almost PG level—before we had to leave if we wanted to make it home with some residual daylight left. But just lying there, cozied up to Jack, watching the colors of the sky change, was magical—perfect, even. And riding home, pressed against him as I watched the darkening landscape whiz past, moving with every shift of the motorcycle, with not a care in the world made the evening perfect.
On the way home, we hit that small diner he’d been talking about, enjoying some fried chicken, pot roast, and cheesecake for dessert that was almost as good as what Jack’s mom always used to make. There was an insane amount of stupid grinning and joking going on, and I couldn’t help but feel both a little sick of it and like I was having the time of my life, and it was obvious that Jack thought along the same lines.
And when we got home—and took another much-needed shower to get rid of the lake water smell and residual sweaty grime—we crashed on the couch and watched awfully bad horror movies until we both dozed off. I barely woke up in the dead of the night when Jack carried me back to bed—only huffing and complaining after he’d realized that I was awake, not before—where we curled up and went back to sleep together.
The next morning, we picked up right where we’d left off, and it was almost noon by the time we managed to make it out of the bedroom. Too worn out to do anything except go for another run, we lazed the rest of the day away, not really bothering with clothes. The one thing that overshadowed the day were that light cramps hit me in the evening and promised to get worse soon, but Jack proved once again that, if needed, he could be more than just the eternal joker, making me cocoa and letting me abuse him as a couch cushion when we settled in for yet more binge-watching.
I absolutely hated waking up on Monday, the day barely dawning, the city still asleep. Jack made as if to get up with me, but I convinced him to remain in bed; I’d just grab coffee and some breakfast to go so he could sleep a little longer. Looking in on him one last time before I left, seeing him already soundly asleep again, one arm draped over where I’d been lying only minutes ago, painted a smile on my face that I was sure was there to stay for the rest of the day.
My cramps hadn’t disappeared—not that I’d expected them to—and actually got worse throughout the day, to the point where it was hard to concentrate on the six-hour operation I was assisting with. I somehow made it through without embarrassing myself, but grabbed a box of painkillers from my locker as soon as I could get out of the OR—and a change of panties and new scrubs as I beat it to the toilet, sure that the tampon and liner I’d used before would have long been bled through.
Much to my surprise, there was barely any spotting, but when I cleaned myself after removing the tampon, my fingers scraped over something else unfamiliar down there. Frowning, I pushed two fingers inside, then pulled—and ended up with the tiny plastic T of my IUD in my hand, still covered with bits of mucus and clotting blood.
My mind ground to a halt, and for several seconds I was only able to blink. What the fuck? I knew I’d had it for over four years now and was kind of due to get it removed soon-ish, and I vaguely remembered reading somewhere that sometimes they came out by themselves, but this was not anything I’d felt even vaguely prepared for.
And because that wasn’t enough of a shock, my beeper went off that second, scaring me enough to drop the damn thing right onto the panties and scrubs pants wadded up around my ankles.
Cursing under my breath, I grabbed some toilet paper to get the worst off my fingers, then fished out the damn thing and deposited it in the trash before I hastily wiped and dressed. My mind was still weirdly sluggish as I washed my hands, only spurned on by my beeper going off yet again. I knew I should be running for the OR to find out what was wrong, but a deep-seated kind of fear made me pause at my locker to get my phone and ring up my OB/GYN instead. It was only four in the afternoon, and chances were that I’d still reach someone.
I exhaled sharply as the call went through and the receptionist’s voice came over the line.
“Hi. Uhm, I’m calling for an appointment? My IUD just came out and—“ The damn beeper interrupted me, making me utter a few choice words that the poor woman really didn’t need to hear. “I’m sorry, I’m a surgeon, and I should be in the OR right now.”
There was a pause, likely as she decided whether to just hang up on me right there.
“What’s your name again? And have you been to see us before?”
Cringing, I bit my lip briefly to keep myself from hitting my head against the lockers. Talk about headless chickens.
“My name’s Erin Slater. I’ve been a patient of Dr. Gellert’s for over a decade now.”
“Just a moment, I’ll get your chart, Dr. Slater.” I usually hated it when I had to do my “I’m a doctor” secret handshak
e thing, but if it got me an appointment right fucking now, I really didn’t mind.
The seconds until I heard her voice again were endless, though. “Ah, here you are. I see you’ve had your IUD for five years now? Be glad it’s out. Some of our patients have reported that it can get quite uncomfortable to remove sometimes.” Another pause as she presumably scanned my chart. “I see that you’re 31 now and you don’t have children yet? Have you considered your options?”
Of course my beeper interrupted me right before I could reply, just increasing my stress level.
“Look, I literally just was on the toilet and that damn thing came out. Right now, the only thing I am is unnerved that I have to deal with this, and I’m also kind of scared. An unplanned pregnancy is the last thing I need in my life right now.”
This time I could tell that she was gnashing her teeth, and her conversational tone from before had considerably cooled off.
“I understand. Did you have unprotected sex recently that is causing your concern about getting pregnant?”
Not that it was any of her business, but… “I thought I was having protected sex because I had a fucking hormone-coated piece of plastic crammed up my uterus!” Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to calm down. “I’m sorry. This really is a bad time for me. But you shouldn’t have to suffer for that. I was speaking out of line.” See, I wasn’t completely immune to that training course on proper conduct they’d forced me to attend a couple weeks ago.
“Do you know where you are in your cycle? You should be protected at least until the start of your next fertile phase,” the receptionist said, only partly mollified.
“I have no idea. I haven’t had regular periods since I got my IUD.” The one before this one, where I’d had to fight with my doctor for a good hour before he’d let me decide what to do with my body. Assholes, all of them, really.
“We have had a cancellation tomorrow at noon. You can come in and talk to Dr. Gellert about your options. If you are not sure about committing to a longer-term solution, many of our patients like to opt for the three-month shot or switch to the pill altogether.”
I hadn’t even considered that, and now really wasn’t the time. I was happy enough that things with the guys were shaping up—having the family-planning discussion with them didn’t sound like a great idea.
“The shot sounds good for now. I work irregular shifts, I often barely know what day it is, so the pill sounds like a recipe for disaster.”
“Very well,” she agreed neutrally. “I can pencil you in for a follow-up appointment in three months from now, too.”
“That would be great. And thank you.”
She rattled off the two dates that I hastily scrawled onto the back of a coffee shop receipt that I found littering my locker. “Always happy to help another professional,” she went on, clearly excluding me from that group, but I really didn’t give a shit. As soon as my screen went blank, I threw my phone into my bag and ran outside, back into the—somewhat moderate—fray of the oncology station. Concentrating on the reason for why my beeper was running hot was a lot more preferable than considering my own drama.
Right after my shift ended, I had to head across town to the ER where I was due for a night shift, and as relaxed as my day had been, the night got worse. A fluke string of accidents had me up and operating the better part of the night, and then it was right back to my daily grind—and, of course, I forgot about the fucking appointment. But by then, my period had set in for good in all its gushy glory to make up for having partly flunked out on me for several months now—likely set on by the absence of the constant, low hormonal dose the IUD had provided locally—so my panic level dropped from “high alert” to only “moderately insane.” Before I left the hospital, I swung by the gynecological department and badgered one of the first-year interns into giving me one of the sample packs of the pill that I knew they hoarded there, lying that it was for a young girl who’d confided in me down in the clinic who promised to talk to her mom soon but needed something right fucking now. Interns—always suckers for a good story.
I popped the first well of the package as soon as I was in the train, heading home, feeling relief slowly chase away the tension headache that had been plaguing me for hours. I was mentally and physically exhausted, and more than ready to turn in the moment I got home.
Jack was already waiting for me, dinner ready since I’d texted him that I was on the way home, and while he did joke about not being afraid to renew his red wings—and that right there was one conversation I was burning to have—it wasn’t hard to dissuade him from actually getting into my panties any which way.
And by the time my monster period was over, I felt confident that I had, once again, all my bases covered, except maybe the most humiliating phone call and consequent doctor’s appointment in the history of modern medicine. Maybe I should ask Kara for the number of her OB/GYN? Mine was getting a little old, anyway, and while I didn’t have any delusions about skeevy old men feeling up women of all ages, I still felt like confiding in someone my age might be a good idea. Yeah, that sounded like a very good idea.
Chapter 16
Jack and I spent the rest of our week together without Simon in a strange kind of harmony. Things hadn’t exactly changed—but at the same time it was obvious that they weren’t the same anymore, either. We’d always been rather physical with each other, and that had only increased by living under the same roof and sharing a bed not just for convenience, but, emotionally at least, I’d felt pretty much the same about him as before, if maybe a little more aware of his… rather obvious and often freely displayed physical attributes. Seeing him now didn’t make my heart sing with joy or some sappy shit, but while before I’d regularly passed up kissing him hello, something close to animal magnetism was developing between us now. Home wasn’t “home” anymore until he’d gathered me in his arms and kissed me deeply. Not that we hadn’t done so before, but now it felt almost mandatory. I wasn’t sure anyone else might even notice—but Simon would. And realizing that made me almost wary of his return, although, at the same time, I wanted him back yesterday rather than tomorrow.
It was on our last evening together as we were sitting at the kitchen table and eating chicken stir-fry when I finally fessed up to Jack about that—whatever that was.
“Do you think that things will get weird now with Simon?”
He looked up from where he’d been chasing some peppers across his plate.
“Weird how? And why? Just because he has to share your limitless adoration?”
I kicked in the vague direction of his legs, only stubbing my toe in the process, but judging from his grin, he knew what I’d intended.
“Are you actually gloating? I’m not sure I’m okay with that,” I replied.
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not asking your permission, eh?” He paused, mirth leaving his eyes as he got serious. “But I won’t rub it in his face. He’s testy enough as it is. But I can’t stop wanting to high-five myself.”
“Which sounds very much like gloating.”
“Silently,” he amended, flashing me a quick grin. “But that aside, it might help. Maybe. It certainly helps me.”
“Yeah, few people feel awful about having their feelings returned,” I pointed out.
“It’s not that. Not just that.” Jack cast around for words, then settled on a weird thing between a shrug and a shudder. “Let’s not make more of this than it is, but I am really happy with how things are developing right now. The last month wasn’t that easy for me.”
That came kind of as a surprise, and I knew that it shouldn’t have. “Why exactly?”
He let out a stream of air slowly as his eyes found mine.
“Let’s just say I’m not protesting the fact that I was the main catalyst for our collective screw-up, and I’ve always known that I’d have to pay for that. But Simon pretty much set me on probation, in my own home. And suddenly, everything I said or did was up for open scrutiny. Which I get, kind
of, but it’s still not easy. Even when you two extended your break from the attic a little longer, it was always obvious that you’d sooner or later end up there again, and that would push me even further toward the margins. I really don’t want to sound as whiny as I do right now, but that’s a lot to swallow when you feel like one of the people you really want to be with has you by the balls, and the other is ready to bust them. I don’t need to tell you that I’m not into that.”
I couldn’t hold back a small smile, but at the same time reached out and grabbed his hand.
“You know that I always stand by you. And Simon knows that, too, which is likely one of the reasons he gets so defensive toward you right now. I’m not sure how much worse that will get.”
Jack thought about that for a minute.
“You know that I’ve been kind of avoiding this subject—“
“Outright, not kind of. You always sidetrack me when I start asking about you,” I pointed out.
He exhaled loudly. “The thing is, I don’t know what to tell you. Some days I think we’re just a step away from getting over everything that has been building up between us. And, just so you know, it’s not just about me acting like an ass and seducing him, or making you feel weird about yourself. I guess on some level it’s healthy that we came to blows because now we can clean up all the little things, too. And the sex is great, and it’s pretty much the only time we never have any issues.” Jack paused there and eyed me critically.
“What, do you expect me to crack some more stupid jokes about you broadening your sexual preferences spectrum?” I asked.
“I guess I’m still waiting for you to fly into a jealous rage or something.”
“Why should I?”
He sighed. “Maybe because if you did, I would feel a little better about being jealous about what you two do in the playroom?”
That was news. Kind of. “You’re actually jealous? Of what? And why? I hate to break it to you, but you’re pretty sufficient on your own where sex is concerned.”
