Page 5 of Doctor's Surprise Twins

In the heart of the city, everything is moving fast now that it’s lunchtime. Everyone who works in the area is walking or riding a bike down the sidewalk, opting to stay local rather than fight with traffic to get food.

“You’re my best friend, man. It’s hard to see you struggle like this.”

I turn my attention back to him as we walk. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He gives me a look that says I know what he’s talking about. “How long’s it been, five years?”

“Six.” I look straight ahead. “Six years.”

“Six years,” he repeats. “Man, I know it messed you up, but six years is a long time. And you’re not even trying to move on.”

“I am,” I argue.

“You’re not. You’re floating through life. You’ve turned into a robot who only cares about work.”

“Oh, you’re one to talk,” I throw back.

“Hey, I’m not saying that I’m not married to my work. But I also have a personal life. I go out, do things, see people. I live. You’re just surviving.”

We make it to the deli and walk inside, standing at the end of the line to place our order.

He doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, and something tells me it has to do with my body language.

My back is straight, and my shoulders are squared. My jaw is tense with stress and my brows are furrowed in annoyance. I don’t have to tell him that I don’t want to have this conversation.

“Hey, did you see the new round of externs that came in this week?”

I’m so happy for the change of subject that I nod and say, “Yeah, I met one today.”

“Yeah?” He raises his brow. “Which one?”

“Ally, I believe her name was.”

“Which one is she? The tall one with the dark hair and the long legs?”

I nod. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“You guess so?”

“Now that I think of it, she did seem rather tall. And she had dark hair.”

He scoffs. “Oh, my God,” he breathes as he moves his hands up to cover his face. He massages his temples before letting his hands drop back in place. “I don’t know how your dick hasn’t shriveled up and fallen off. You don’t even notice a good-looking woman anymore?”

I frown at him. “Of course I do, and yeah, she was beautiful, I guess. She’s just too young for me to look at like that.”

“Bullshit,” he says around a cough, causing everyone in line to turn and look at us.

“Face the front and mind your business,” I tell the teenage kid who’s standing in line with an older man I assume is his father. When he turns, I look over at Noah. “What was that?”

“I called bullshit.” He shrugs. “No man in the history of men has ever not looked at a woman because she wastoo youngfor them. They didn’t look because she was ugly, or fat, or because the man in question is gay, but never because she’s too young. She’s an adult, and that’s all that matters.”

Sometimes I wonder why I still hang out with Noah. We are vastly different, and we rarely agree. I guess it’s because we’ve been friends too long to let it go now.

He’s the only one I have left in my life who will give it to me straight. Everyone else wants to sugarcoat it or tell me what they think I want to hear.

“If you ask me, she’s exactly what you need.”

“Excuse me?”

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