There was no fixing this situation without a shower and new clothes.
Panicked, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and texted the first person that came to mind.
Me: There’s been a murder. Help me. I need help.
Not even thirty seconds later, my phone chirped with a response.
Will: WHAT? WHERE ARE YOU?
I immediately realized my mistake.
Me: Calm down. Not a real murder. But I do need help. I’m in the bathroom.
Will: Are you sick?
Me: No… I’m…well…I just need help in the form of new clothes.
Ah, shit. I had forgotten all about little Mable sitting in the exam room.
Me: And you should probably have another nurse go in and check on Mable in room eight.
Will: Okay. I’ll be right there.
It only took fifteen rounds of pacing the bathroom before three soft knocks rapped against the door. “Mel, it’s me,” Will whispered.
I pressed my ear to the door. “Is anyone close by?”
“Nope.”
“Are you sure?”
He sighed. “I’m sure. Just open the door, baby.”
I pulled open the door enough to meet his eyes, and he searched my face with concern.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I just need those clothes,” I added and nodded toward the scrubs in his hands.
He didn’t hand them over, though. “Mel, you’re scaring me a little. Can I come in and make sure you’re all right?”
“I don’t think you want to do that.”
His expression turned serious. “Trust me. I do.”
Christ. Am I okay with him seeing me like this? I did another short circuit of his concerned blue eyes and realized that I was. Or, rather, I didn’t mind if he saw me like this. There was a really fucking short list of people whom I trusted this much, and he was the only name on it.
Still… “Remember that I warned you.”
“Just let me in.”
“Fine,” I huffed and slid the door open enough for him to sneak inside.
The second we were securely locked in the bathroom, he scanned the room with anxiety in his eyes until he spotted my pants. And instantly, the anxiety fled and surprise took its place, widening his eyes.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” I muttered. “Marlene convinced me to test the Goddess Cup today, and well, let’s just say, things didn’t go so well.”
His lips crested into a smile, and I pointed an accusing finger in his direction.
“Do not laugh.”
Will raised both hands in the air. “I swear. I’m not laughing.”
“Ugh,” I groaned in frustration. “I’m not even sure how the fuck to get out of these scrubs without it looking like someone was murdered in here.”
A soft chuckle escaped his lips, and I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.
“Stop it,” I said through a few quiet giggles, and he grinned wide.
“Can I help you?” he asked with sincerity in his eyes.
“Uh…you want to help me take off my menstrual-blood-soaked pants and see the crime scene left behind?”
“No,” he corrected. “I want to help my girlfriend who seems like she’s having a rough fucking day.”
“You’re not grossed out by this?”
“Seriously, Mel?” He flashed a pointed look. “This isn’t the first time I’ve seen a bleeding vagina.”
I guessed he had a point. Will’s job basically revolved around bleeding vaginas.
“Uh…okay…yeah…” I found myself agreeing, and he didn’t give me any time to change my mind.
Will moved toward me, squatted to his knees, and started untying the strings of my scrub pants. “I’m sorry you’ve had a shit day,” he said and looked up at me from beneath his long, dark lashes.
Man, he’s handsome.
“Me too,” I muttered, running a hand through his perfect hair. As I watched him gently remove my stained clothes, I started to think this day wasn’t so bad after all.
I’ve got one of the good ones.
“Mind if I help make it better tonight?”
I quirked a curious brow. “What’d you have in mind?”
“Stay at my place tonight, and you’ll find out,” he said with a soft smile. “But I promise, it will most likely revolve around pizza, ice cream, and a movie of your choice.”
I smiled and nodded, teasing, “Aw, that sounds amazing.” I shook my head dramatically. “And to think, all I got you was a bloody pair of scrubs.”
Will flashed that perfect smile of his in my direction, and within the blink of an eye, the day wasn’t seeming so bad after all.
Me: Where are you? Are you in hiding?
I’d left Melody fully dressed and ready, her purse on her shoulder, keys in hand, and prepared to leave the apartment directly behind me. I couldn’t understand how she still wasn’t here, seeing as I’d arrived fifteen minutes ago.
Melody: I’m running late.
How was that even possible? I shook my head to myself, thinking, Starbucks. She’d probably stopped at Starbucks.
Me: How do you still have your job?
Melody: I’m fucking my boss.
Me: HAHA! That probably isn’t how we should lead into telling the rest of the staff about our relationship today.
Melody: Maybe we shouldn’t.
Me: WHAT? This was your idea, I’ll remind you. After two showings of I Am Britney Jean, you went on and on about how thoroughly misunderstood Britney Spears has always been and declared that she was my soul sister.
Melody: I was drunk. I’d had a seriously bad day.
Me: I think not. You didn’t break out the hard liquor until after the discussion about coming out in the office as a stand for my truth. I Am William Morris, I think you called it. They need to know the real you, you said.
Melody: I was just excited about learning your middle name.
Me: Sorry, Charlie, but this was your idea. Though, I’m completely behind it, baby. Love you.
Oh, fuck…
You haven’t said that before, Will, my brain taunted. For weeks, I’d been trying to figure out the time to say it for the first time, and this was how I did it? Time sped up and slowed down and turned motherfucking backward as I desperately searched the hollow recesses of my mind for something to say that would fix this. Or erase it. Fucking something.
A full two minutes passed, and I still had nothing.
Melody: Well, this is awkward.
Me: Well. I guess it is. Maybe we’ll deal with it later? Also, it’s not as awkward as you showing me your nipples on the first day. I’ll take a repeat of that when you finally get here, by the way.
Melody: No more hanging out with Thatch for you.
Complete avoidance. I guess that meant she was on board with dealing with it later. A tiny cloud of disappointment mushroomed in my chest. I used my memories of last night together to smother it.
Me: Why?
Melody: Because I’ve noticed a substantial increase in the amount you talk about my nipples since we hung out with them the other night. Like, substantial. Marked. Like, you’ve mentioned them forty times.
Me: Forty? Pshhh. No way. Maybe two dozen. At a push. But they are nice nipples. Can you really blame me here?
Melody: Don’t you have patients to see?