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KEENE

S ometimes being wrong was okay.

Take me, for example. (Not literally. I have a girlfriend now, so hands off. And mind out of the gutter, you perv. I’m trying to be serious here.)

Take my situation .

I had loved my life, and I hadn’t wanted it to change. Scoring a new chick every couple of days and not being tied down by much of anything had been a wild and crazy ride.

I had assumed settling for one person would just be the worst, most boring thing ever. I hadn’t wanted to fall for a quiet, introverted library girl who got off on arguing with me and putting me in my place every chance she got. Talk about the end of my life as I knew it.

Except it hadn’t been the end.

It’d been the beginning.

Yes, some things had changed, but I was still me.

And my life actually felt better now. Fuller.

Complete-r. I was happy and content. I might’ve even grown up and matured a bit since being with her.

I mean, not a lot. Let’s not get too hasty here.

But I think I was a good balance of fun times and responsibility now.

So thank God I’d stopped fighting the hidden curiosity I’d had for her and finally just plunged into the boyfriend life with both feet. Best decision I ever made.

Whistling about that very decision, I walked into Nursing Fundamentals on Monday and fell into the first seat I came across with a satisfied hiss of pleasure.

“Morning,” I said brightly to the chick next to me in the row to my right.

When she narrowed her eyes and glared back, I was freshly reminded that she and I weren’t friends. Amelia and I had hooked up our freshman year, and she’d been anti-Keene ever since. Guess I couldn’t win them all over.

But seriously, I had no idea what I’d done to piss her off in the first place.

I distinctly remembered her having multiple orgasms, and I hadn’t even ghosted her afterward.

When I’d called her the next day, she’d been embarrassed and mortified that she’d given me one night, and she’d made it as clear as day she hadn’t wanted a repeat. So I’d bounced, respecting her wishes.

Except then she’d started being all bitchy to me in class, tossing snide little comments in my direction every chance she got. I was pretty good at being able to brush them off and ignore her, but still… What the hell had I done?

The mystery of it picked at me.

So when she muttered, “What put you in such a good mood? Run over a baby puppy on the way to class?” I couldn’t hold back.

“Three of them, actually,” I answered with a mocking grin.

“There was the cutest, little chocolate lab, a pug, and some half-breed I couldn’t figure out, but it was still adorable as shit.

They were all curled up in this basket together in the middle of the road.

” Swiping out my hand, I added, “And I smoked all three of them—wham—flatter than a pancake.”

Amelia sent me a look of such loathing I’m pretty sure a piece of her heart shriveled in her chest, shrinking it at least three sizes. “You’re disgusting.”

I laughed and shook my head. “You’re the one who started the whole puppy-murder bit, darlin’. I was just following through.”

“Well, next time keep your damn mouth shut, alright?” she advised and returned her attention to the front of class, her jaw tight with annoyance.

I blinked at her, feeling almost sorry for her. It would suck to be filled with such bitter resentment all the time.

“You know what you need,” I said suddenly.

She cast me such an icy glare that I pulled back in my chair to avoid the chill wafting off it. “If you say sex—” she warned.

I only laughed. “Yeah right. The thought didn’t even cross my mind.” I shuddered. “You’d freeze the poor guy’s pecker right off him.”

When her eyes narrowed into ominous slits, I lifted my hands. “I was going to say you need to let it go.”

Amelia blinked as if I’d slapped her.

So I leaned in, taking advantage of her surprise, and I whispered, “It was one night over a year ago. We both had fun. I backed off when you told me to get lost. I didn’t spread any nasty rumors about you.

Hell, I didn’t even tell my closest friends about it.

And nobody died. Why the fuck are you still holding on to it and hating me like something awful happened? ”

Again, Amelia seemed unable to answer as she blinked at me.

At the front of the room, the professor started class. But I was still watching Amelia with lifted eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

Flushing slightly, she mumbled, “I liked you.”

My eyebrows furrowed. “I’m sorry, what ?” Keeping my voice low so the teacher wouldn’t hear me, I leaned in even closer because I hadn’t needed her to repeat herself, and I asked, “Then why the hell did you tell me to get lost?”

“Because…” Irritation frosted her features. “I heard about how much you got around and knew you’d never get serious with anyone.”

I snorted. “Well then, the joke’s on you, sweetheart.

It turns out, I can get serious with someone.

I’m with this girl right now, and I make a damn fine boyfriend if I do say so myself.

Not only am I monogamous and completely faithful, but I’m attentive and I spoil the shit out of her.

I’m so crazy for her, I’d burn down the fucking world to make her happy.

So seriously…” Pointing at Amelia, I lifted my brows for sincerity.

“The next time you like a guy, maybe don’t treat him like shit and fucking just tell him, alright?

Because you never know how much he might actually be willing to change for you. ”

Her mouth fell open, and she blinked at me in astonishment, just as I heard the professor claim, “…guest speaker for the day. Everyone, please welcome Ms. Katherine Breeker.”

Wait, what?

I jerked my gaze to the front of the class, bowled over to find Waverly’s mom standing next to the professor.

“What the hell?” I whispered under my breath.

She stared stonily at me as the professor explained, “She works as a counselor with troubled youth at one of the high schools in town, and she’s going to talk to us today about the mental health of our future patients.”

Glancing briefly toward Amelia, Ms. B sent me a knowing little sneer and faced the rest of the class.

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath and sank lower in my seat, fully aware of how intimate my conversation had probably looked to her when I’d been turned toward Amelia in such a private way. She was no doubt assuring herself I was still the skirt-chasing whore I’d always been.

Wishing I could just do something to finally change her mind about me, I plopped my elbows on my desk and interlaced my fingers in front of my mouth, stewing badly.

“Today, we’re going to talk about victims of sexual assault,” she announced, eyeing me again as if I had firsthand knowledge about the topic.

“Because, with the career path you are all taking, you will encounter the subject. And you will have to ease a survivor through some of the most terrifying, horrendous hours of his or her life.”

As she got started, going through different ways to calm a rape victim and the best way to approach them, I took out my binder and started to take notes. As much as I wasn’t a fan of her being the mother of the girl I was dating, she at least knew her shit where this type of topic was concerned.

But the woman threw me under the damn bus when she paused, looking directly at me. “This next part probably won’t ever concern you, Mr. Dugger. The last person someone in this situation will want in their examining room will be a handsome, young, male doctor.”

“Aww. The guest speaker knows your name,” Amelia leaned toward me to whisper acerbically. “Did you nail her too?”

I sent her a sour look and muttered, “Buzz off.”

Guess she hadn’t been a fan of the little truth bomb I’d hit her with. But at least now I knew the name of the bug stuck up her butt, and I was frankly relieved it didn’t have anything to do with me. She was resentful of herself for pushing me away in the first place because of gossip.

Turning back to Waverly’s mom, I made a big production of setting my pen down on my binder since there was no reason for me to take notes if I’d never be allowed to do any of this shit, anyway, and I lifted my hands in surrender, offended for my entire gender.

But Ms. Breeker only shrugged. “To preserve the comfort of the patient, another female will more than likely be the one collecting the rape kit.”

Exhaling moodily, I sat back in my seat and folded my arms across my chest, already done with her pretentious little lecture.

I sulked for a while longer until the professor pulled down a screen in the front of the room, and Waverly’s mom used a remote to start a video.

“So we’re going to watch a couple of accounts from some real-life victims, and afterward, we’ll discuss and brainstorm things we could say and do for each one.”

She pushed play, and the screen filled with the outline of a woman sitting in a chair, her face blacked out with shadows and voice distorted to protect her privacy.

When she jumped right in, describing her rape, I shuddered, a foul taste filling my mouth, and I picked up my pen to doodle on my notes, drawing Waverly’s calligraphy W/M in the corner as I tried to block out what was being said in the video.

But it invaded my ears, anyway, making me grit my teeth and actually wonder if gynecology was the career path for me, after all. Because how the hell was I going to be able to help someone who actually went through this shit? This was just…awful.

In the middle of the second account, Ms. Breeker paused the video and cleared her throat. “Mr. Dugger,” she called sternly, making me glance up in surprise. “Are we boring you?”

I frowned in utter confusion. “Huh?”

She sniffed derisively. “Pay attention to the video.”

“I was listening ,” I bit out. “Though I have no idea why since you just flat-out told me no patient was going to let me near them after they’d been attacked, anyway.”