The Shameless Hour (The Ivy Years #4)

When she disappeared, I stripped off my jeans and underwear. Out of a misplaced sense of modesty, I folded the panties into a neat square, then tucked them underneath my jeans. It really made no sense to hide my undies when the doctor was about to look at my vag under bright lights. But I did it anyway.

I got onto the table and pulled the sheet across my lap. A double knock sounded on the door.

“Come in,” I said, pointlessly.

The doctor who entered the room was older than I expected, with wispy gray hair and an ornery expression on his wrinkled face. But as he cleared the doorway, someone else followed on his heels. In walked a young man. He was tall — probably six foot two — and so freaking handsome. Under less awkward circumstances, I would have taken a good long look at him.

Instead, I stared at my knees.

“Hello Miss…” The older doctor stared down at my chart in his hands. “Isabelle Hall. This is Mr. Gaines. He’s a medical student following me on rotation today. Is it all right with you if he observes our examination?”

Seriously? What was I supposed to say? Yeah, let’s make a fucking party out of looking at my vag.

“Okay,” I mumbled.

“Now what is your complaint?” the doctor asked, folding his arms.

At that moment, I would have done anything to see Ms. Ogden’s blue-eyed gaze blinking calmly at me from behind her spectacles. “It, uh…” Just spit it out, Bella. “I have pain in the, um, vulva region. I thought it was a yeast infection. But now it hurts when I pee.”

The old doctor nodded. “Let’s have a look, then.” He pulled some latex gloves from a box on the wall. “Scoot down on the table, please. Feet in the stirrups.”

I knew the drill. Still, it was uncomfortable. The little exam room seemed overcrowded. Cold air hit my girly parts when the doctor folded back the sheet.

Both men angled in for a view, and I pretty much wanted to die of embarrassment. The doctor’s gloved hand probed me in a way that was not overly rough. But I had to fight to keep the wince off my face when he touched a sensitive area.

“Mr. Gaines,” the doctor prompted. “What do you see?”

My gaze shot up to see the young man’s face color. He met my eyes for a second before turning to his teacher. “An infection. Probably bacterial.”

“What is the likely pathogen?” the old doctor pressed.

The younger man did not look me in the eye this time. “Gonorrhea or Chlamydia.”

“What?” I gasped, hoping that I’d somehow misheard.

The doctor nodded. “Glove up and prepare a test. Also, check for other signs of infection.”

As the younger man put on a pair of gloves, a trickle of sweat rolled down my back. “What does this mean?”

Dr. Peterson’s expression was chilly. “We see signs of infection, which are almost certainly caused by a sexually transmitted infection. Have you ever been diagnosed with one before?”

“No,” I gasped, my face prickling with heat. “But I don’t understand. I use condoms.”

“We hear that a lot,” the doctor said, stepping back to give his student some room. “But if you have skin-to-skin contact before the condom is applied, it can happen.”

Oh my God.

Oh my God.

Oh. My. God.

My heart began to beat like a drum, and I tasted bile in the back of my throat. The young medical student loomed over me now. My pulse was racing, and there just wasn’t enough air. My eyes got hot.

Dr. Peterson shoved a tissue box in my direction suddenly.

“What’s that for?” I asked in a voice which was less than polite. My attitude was suddenly the only thing standing between me and a breakdown.

“For when you cry,” he said simply.

I pushed the box back toward him. “Keep it then,” I ground out, determined not to cry.

Above me, the younger man hesitated. I forced myself to look up at him, finding a pair of empathetic hazel eyes waiting for me. “Do you need a minute?” he asked quietly.

Angrily, I shook my head.

He hesitated anyway. “May I touch your stomach? I’d like to know if any of your lymph nodes are swollen.”

I nodded.

He moved around my bent knee to stand next to me. Patient hands pressed gently into my pelvic region. “Please tell me if anything hurts.”

He probed lower, and within seconds I was hissing in a breath.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, reaching to check the other side. “How about here?”

“Yeah,” I said through clenched teeth. I was really sore there.