medicine {h.s.}

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

december.

"I mean, hear me out, okay?" I say loud enough to ensure that I am heard over the volume of the running shower. My words are followed by my own frustrated sigh prompted by the inevitable frizz of my curly hair paralleling the exposure to the steam from of the bathroom. It's only adding to the list of things that are presently bothering me. I'm talking with my hands in a way that I never do, and I hate how girlish I feel as I sit on the toilet gossiping. "I hate to sound like that girl, but is it possible to get tired of the perfect guy? And when I say the perfect guy, I mean: the Perfect Guy. Like, the sex is fantastic, he wants no commitment from me, he's unbelievably handsome, and—oh, did I mention the sex? It's entirely other—"

Just then, the shower curtain pulls back. Harry's head pops out. Water is dripping down every inch of his body and causes a puddle down beneath him on the tile floor. "Uh-uh," he immediately says, shaking his head aggressively and causing more water to pool. "I thought I told you I didn't want you to complain about boy problems to me."

"Yeah, but—"

"No," he insists, giving me a hardened glare. "And what the fuck are you doing in here? Get the fuck out, I'm in the fucking shower. I'm naked in here."

I give another exasperated sigh. "I don't care. Haven't you been listening to me? I'm in crisis!"

Harry clenches his jaw as he stares at me. Silently he is shaking my head, telling me that he is unmoved by my pleas. "Out." The tone implies that he is equally as exasperated as me, but for the life of me I can't piece together why.

"Do you need validation?" I offer, giving him a hardened look of my own. He raises an annoyed eyebrow at me, his shoulders slumping as he realizes he isn't getting out of this any time soon. Ruth and Monty are out of the house and now is one of the only times that I can talk freely about my relationship with Adrian with someone who is not Adrian without risking an outbreak of the information. "Fine, okay, I can give you validation. Pull back the curtain."

Instinctively, his fingers grasp harder on the lining. "What? No!"

"Pull it back. The sooner we get on with this the sooner we can return to me and my problems." Impatiently I begin tapping my foot like some mother waiting for her children to get their shit together. Half the time that I spend around my fellow interns I feel like I am some mother gathering her children that she has no control over.

Across from me, Harry shakes his head once more. He drops the curtain and pulls it shut behind him, returning to his shower. From here I can hear him step under the stream of water again. "Get. Out." He emphasizes, apparently realizing that I hadn't moved from my spot.

Annoyed, I shoot to my feet. I cross the bathroom in only a few steps and grab on the curtain myself. Tugging it back to reveal Harry's showering form, his eyes widen in realization of what I've done. Water is deflecting off of him and hitting me, but I can't bring myself to care. I hardly catch a glimpse of anything—nothing past is inked chest—before he is reaching for the liner to wrap around himself and is protecting himself from my eyes. "What?" I ask confused, "I'm a doctor and a straight female. I've seen plenty of dicks before."

"Not mine." He insists, looking at me with a pleading expression. "Never mine."

"Fine," I concede, throwing my hands in the air as I release the shower curtain, letting it fall back to cover him. "I don't get the big deal, though. I'd be fine with you seeing my tits."

"Really?" He peaks his head out of the shower excitedly, and I nod my head twice at him. A gleeful expression brightens his face before he snaps himself out of his daydream. "Tits are tits. You wouldn't spread your legs and let me see your pussy and you know that's true. Besides, I'm showering and you need to get the fuck out."