My Best Friend's Ex

My Best Friend's Ex

Quinn & Meghan Quinn




Chapter One


EMMA

“Just stick it in. Stop stalling and get it over with.”

“I can’t.”

“Emma, it’s not going to go in itself.”

I twist my hands in front of me and say, “Maybe it will.”

Logan gives me a pointed look. “Catheters don’t insert themselves. Just do it.”

“But,” I bite the inside of my cheek and look behind me at Mr. Freeland, “it’s so wrinkly.”

Logan runs his hand over his face and exhales. “He’s old. It’s not the first ancient dick you’ve seen.”

I swallow hard and lean forward. “It’s the first ancient dick I’ve seen wearing a turtleneck.”

“A turtle—” Logan, my best guy friend and fellow nursing student pauses and tilts his head. “He’s not circumcised?”

“No. And I’m not sure how to handle it. Do I just go in there, pull the turtleneck down, and resume business?”

“I think so.” Logan thinks about it for a second and says, “Should I ask Dr. Thompkins?”

“No,” I say quickly. “We don’t want him judging us on our inability to handle a wrinkly old penis with a flap. We can do this.”

“Why do you keep saying words like we and us? This is your patient; you’ve been assigned to him. There is no we or us in this scenario.”

I cross my arms over my chest and stare at my friend. “There was no we and us when little eight-year-old Donovan came in with a nail sticking out of his kneecap. And when you couldn’t stop dry heaving, I stepped in.”

“That was different. It was a nail in a kneecap. Nails should never be stuck in kneecaps,” he stresses. “This is just an old man’s dick. You’ve done this a million times. You’re just being lazy.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Lazy? You’re calling me lazy?”

He cringes. “Bad choice of words. Not lazy per say more . . .” he thinks for a second and then shakes his head. “No, you’re being lazy. What are you going to do when we aren’t working together anymore? Ask someone else to play with the turtleneck?”

Absolutely.

Logan and I have known each other since our first year in nursing school. Both wide-eyed and scared shitless from the amount of crap we had to clean during our first clinical, we stuck together. Now we’re in our fourth year, just around the corner from graduating, he’s still by my side, but now he’s no longer helping me, but pushing me to be better. He’s been quite aggressive in his approach this year and I know it’s because when we graduate, we’ll most likely go our separate ways.

“Today isn’t a good day for me.” I pause and twist my long brown hair between my fingers.

“Yeah, why’s that?” There is a smirk on his lips. He’s calling my bullshit.

“Uh, period.” I nod my head, liking this idea. “Yeah. Got the period. Not only do I shed my uterine walls during this three to five day stint of living hell, but I also become very unpredictable. You never know what I’ll end up doing.” I clasp my index finger and thumb together and start making jabby motions. “See, very unpredictable.”

With his giant man-fist, Logan palms my hand, halting all jabbing. “First of all, don’t try to scare me with your shedding uterus. You fail to remember I had to assist a doctor in removing a double-tampon pileup from Vagina Veronica my second year. I’ve been conditioned by the female menstruation since then. And second of all, do you really think your little erratic jabs will deter me? I kick-box for a hobby against men two times your size.”

Damn it, I forgot both those things.

I cross my arms over my chest and look him up and down. “You’re annoying, you know that?”

“Just looking out for my girl. Now, go in there, say hi to Mr. Freeland, and get the job done.”

Huffing out my frustration, I walk toward Mr. Freeland’s room just as my phone rings. “Oh, I have to get that,” I say rather desperately, appreciating the surprise distraction.

“You don’t have to—”

I hold up my finger. “Uh I’m on the phone.” I catch his smirk as I turn around and answer the call. “Hello?”

“Emma? It’s Adalyn.” Even though I’m thankful for the distraction, it’s rare for my roommate to call during the day when I’m on clinical.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Uh, you might want to come home.” The wariness in her voice sends prickles of fear up my back.

“Is everything okay?” Logan gives me a get-real look, probably assuming I’m making up this entire phone call.

“Not really, just come home as quickly as you can.”

“Okay.” Confused, I hang up and look at Logan. “That was Adalyn. I need to get home now.”

Sitting back on his heels, Logan starts to slow clap for me. “Wow, well played, Em. Didn’t think you had such trickery in your back pocket but you proved me wrong.”

“I’m not kidding. I didn’t make this up.”

“Awfully convenient.” His mouth twists.

“How on earth could I have asked Adalyn to call me? I’ve been with you this whole time.”

Logan thinks about it for a second and then says, “Telepathically. Women always sync together when they get their periods. I wouldn’t be surprised if one uterus shouted to the other an SOS.”

I roll my eyes and head toward the locker room; our shift is almost over so this is perfect timing. “And here I thought you were different than other guys, Logan. Can you please just do the catheter? Adalyn sounded really nervous.”

“This is such crap.” He points at me and says, “How do I know you’re not lying?”

“Come with me then if you don’t believe me. Of course, after you do the catheter. I’ll grab your things for you.”

He rolls his eyes and heads into Mr. Freeland’s room. Thank God! Logan is so much more adept at catheters than I am anyway, so he would be more gentle, just what Mr. Freeland needs. I take my time tying up loose ends for us, grab our stuff, and then meet him in the lobby. He’s shaking his head at me as he approaches. “You’re lucky I like you.”

I give him a quick side hug. “Thank you.”

Together, we ride the city bus to the stop near the townhouse I’ve been sharing with Adalyn since the beginning of this year. Logan teases me, accusing me of making something up to get out of touching Mr. Freeland’s penis. Naturally, I deny every accusation while feeling very lucky I was able to avoid the touching of old dick today.

That is until I show up at our little house.

When we walk up to the house, a duplex, Adalyn is sitting on the steps, a paper in her hand. What is going on? Adalyn doesn’t sit outside. She’s afraid of the sun, not really, but she’s usually in the house, her nose buried in a book preparing for our upcoming nursing exams.

“Adalyn, is everything okay?” I close the space between us just as she holds up the piece of paper in her hand.

“We’re being evicted.”

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