Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
TheDoctorIsIn: You seem to want me to have missed you…so I guess you’re lucky because I did. But I don’t need you to tell me you feel the same. I already know you do.
GoodWithHisHands: You don’t play fair, Doc. That was good.
TheDoctorIsIn: Not going to deny it?
GoodWithHisHands: Nah, no point. It’s obvious we intrigue each other. What are you doing right now?
TheDoctorIsIn: Sitting on my balcony.
GoodWithHisHands: Me too. Think about that…how close we are to each other, yet we don’t know who the other is.
TheDoctorIsIn: Makes it exciting…and I think I need that. Something different, something that feels like it’s just mine.
In some ways, my life didn’t feel like my own, much like I didn’t think Madison’s did. That didn’t completely make sense, as I’d stepped out on my own in ways she hadn’t. I went to school to be the kind of doctor I wanted, not what Dad wanted for me, while she went for the family business. I dated, didn’t hold back on bringing men and women to functions, while Madison had kept to herself since she and Ryder split up. But they were still always there, in both our lives, trying to run them. My mechanic was my secret, and I liked that about him.
GoodWithHisHands: You want me to be yours, huh? Your dirty little secret?
TheDoctorIsIn: Not like that. I’m not closeted.
GoodWithHisHands: I was giving you shit. Hey…are you okay? Something’s off tonight.
It was strange he would notice, this man who lived in the same condominium as me, but whom I’d decided to stay anonymous with; whom I could have stood by in the elevator one day and not known it. Who didn’t know me. We’d only talked three times on an app so far, yet he could tell I was off.
TheDoctorIsIn: I’m fine. I just had dinner with my family tonight. They always put me on edge.
GoodWithHisHands: I’m sorry. That’s tough.
TheDoctorIsIn: You’d think once you hit thirty-two, you’d stop worrying if you’re good enough. I’m a fucking physician. I’m a good person. Why do I let them get to me?
Shit. I couldn’t believe I’d admitted that to him. I’d never said it to another person in my life.
GoodWithHisHands: Because you’re human. We don’t want to let down people we love. Sometimes we’ll even lie to ourselves, bury parts of our own truths so deep we believe our own lies, if we think that will protect people we love.
TheDoctorIsIn: You sound like you’re familiar with it.
GoodWithHisHands: I am. I broke the heart of someone I loved once. That’s not something I ever want to do again, but…I couldn’t go on the way I was. And I believe it was best for them too.
He didn’t say anything else for a moment, and I didn’t either, not sure how I wanted to respond.
GoodWithHisHands: We deserve to be happy too. So whatever it is you’re worrying about, try and let it go. You’re good enough.
Somehow, those words helped. They mended some of the broken pieces inside me, even if it turned out to be only temporary.
TheDoctorIsIn: How do you know?
GoodWithHisHands: I’ve seen your abs. No one with a body like that could be not good enough at anything.
A loud laugh burst from my lips. God, I liked him.
GoodWithHisHands: Well, that and you like me. I mean, that says a lot right there. I’m pretty fucking great.
TheDoctorIsIn: That makes two of us.
GoodWithHisHands: Think how incredible we’d be together. I’m not sure Atlanta could handle it.
TheDoctorIsIn: You think too small. I’m not sure the world could. We’d be invincible. What do you like to do for fun?
Maybe I shouldn’t feel this way, but I wasn’t ready to stop talking to him. I wanted to know more about this man who was so close yet out of reach, as if my fingertips could touch him but couldn’t hold on.
GoodWithHisHands: Work on cars. I know it’s my job, but I enjoy it. I like to cook as well.
TheDoctorIsIn: Really? Me too. I wouldn’t say I’m a chef or anything, but…being in the kitchen is…
GoodWithHisHands: Calming?
TheDoctorIsIn: Exactly. Stop trying to be like me.
GoodWithHisHands: I was going to say maybe you were trying to be like me, but you’re older. I’m thirty.
Oh yeah, I’d mentioned being thirty-two, hadn’t I?
TheDoctorIsIn: Something else we could do together if we didn’t want to ruin this by meeting.
But then…what if it didn’t ruin it? What if it made things better?
GoodWithHisHands: Remember, we could have already met. But then, I haven’t seen any men in the elevator I wanted to strip bare, and I have a feeling I would with you.
Yet another grin curved my lips.
TheDoctorIsIn: Naturally.
We talked into the night—about movies and books and coming out. He’d lost people close to him when he had, but my mechanic didn’t seem to want to share much about the experience, so I didn’t push.