Douchebag Doctor
DOUCHEBAG DOCTOR
WRITTEN BY ROXY GRAY
Copyright © 2019 by Roxy Gray. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by information storage and retrieval system, without written permission of the Publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
DOUCHEBAG DOCTOR
I don’t do dates. I don’t have crushes. I don’t sleep with rude doctors. Which one is a lie?
Turns out it’s all three.
The doctor strolled into the yoga studio before any of the others had arrived.
“Hey, you again.”
“Oh. Hi,” Michelle said.
“So, I wanted to ask you something.”
“Okay.”
“Would you want to go out for dinner tomorrow?”
Michelle’s heart raced. Her eyes met the doctor’s. They were light brown, like sweet caramel. Her gaze drifted lower, over his arms. Muscular, yet lean. Small veins protruded on the sides. She watched as his hand gently grazed hers, leaving sparks as it went.
“Sure. I’d really like that.”
The other students began to filter into the room. Michelle turned. The doctor bent down to whisper something in her ear.
“Maybe I’ll get to ruin your pants this time.” He smirked.
Michelle fought back the urge to laugh.
“Doubtful. I don’t even know you.”
A smile took over the doctor’s mouth. His voice vibrated by her ear, flicking his British accent into her:
“I think you do. And I think you know what happens next.”
This book is part of a series and can be read either in order or as a standalone.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
1
___
Michelle was starving, but she didn’t have time to eat even a bite. She tore through her kitchen, stopping only for a second to check the time on the oven clock. It read 9:55 AM, confirming that she was having the unluckiest day so far this year. Not only had her roommate and cousin, Bree taken the car overnight without telling her, but their washing machine had broken sometime yesterday evening. She’d spent the last half hour trying to find an outfit that didn’t smell like mildew. Ugh. Michelle was left with just a soggy pair of leggings and an old sports bra to wear.
“Where the hell are my keys?” She wondered out loud.
She found them in the fridge. Scatterbrain.
But the worst part of Michelle’s morning wasn’t the lack of transportation or even the lack of dry athleisure. It was the fact that she had five minutes left to get to her yoga class — a very important one. She couldn’t miss it. It was her first time teaching at this particular studio. Being tardy would be a quick way to lose her new gig, and reputation was everything in the fitness industry.
“Five minutes away,” Michelle muttered under her breath. It was a good thing she was fit. She’d jogged ten blocks and didn’t feel remotely winded yet. She kept her breathing even. By now, all of the attendees were likely waiting impatiently inside the sauna-like room. They were probably wondering if she was even going to show up. Maybe they’d even started to leave. One of them could have contacted the studio manager by now.
She ran faster.
“I’m here,” she panted when she finally arrived. The petite woman behind the counter shot her an attitude-filled look.
“And you are…?”
“Michelle. I’m teaching the ten o’clock hot yoga today.”
“Oh.” Her face lit up, though her fake smile didn’t reach her eyes. “You’re early! Great. I’ll show you where the lockers are.”
Michelle followed, still catching her breath.
How was she early?
“Here are the lockers. You can set your own code like this,” the woman demonstrated, configuring a password on the keys. “It'll reset once you’re finished. Is there anything else you have questions about?”
“Um, no. I don’t think so. Thank you.”
The girl fake smiled again, disappearing in an instant.
Michelle shoved her backpack into the locker and set the combination. Above her on the wall, a clock read 9:42 AM. So she wasn’t late. Her clock at home must have been wrong, sending her into a panic for nothing.
Take a deep breath and move on, she told herself. There was no point in ruining the rest of her day over a little hiccup. She filled her lungs and let out all the air, returning to her normal self; cool as a cucumber.
Michelle attempted to fix her appearance in the mirror before heading downstairs. Her dark, curly hair was pulled back into a bun, looking a little less wild than usual. Most of her friends growing up had smooth, shiny locks, but Michelle had grown to like her voluminous curls. She didn’t want to be like everyone else. That would be boring. Michelle prided herself on pursuing a life that was true to her passions, and she wouldn’t change for anyone.
Seeing that she only had a short time left before the class was set to begin, she coated her plump lips in a tinted chapstick that flattered her deep complexion.
Luckily, her leggings had mostly dried on the way here.
Maybe this day wouldn’t be so bad after all.
She exited the change room, searching for the stairs. But as she turned, she collided with someone.
“Ow!” Michelle winced, rubbing a spot just above her eyebrow. Her eyes squinted shut. She felt something wet drip onto her feet.
“Watch where you’re going, yeah?” A man’s voice replied. He spoke in a British accent that stuck to her ears like warm honey. He sounded annoyed with her, even though she hadn’t really done anything wrong. Prick. Obviously, it took two people to form a collision like that. She’d likely have a mark on her head too.
Michelle finally opened her eyes, planning to give him a piece of her mind and a lesson in common decency.
“You watch where you’re going! It’s rude to —”
But the retort she’d been planning disintegrated.
Her breath remained stuck in her chest.
The guy was a doctor.
He wore a white lab coat with an I.D. badge clipped to one side. Beneath it, he had on blue scrubs. His top was a v-neck that showed the beginnings of what Michelle ascertained to be a muscular chest. Smooth and hard, like a rock at the beach, sculpted by years ashore.
“Well, these are ruined,” he huffed.
Her gaze drifted down to his pants, which were covered in the remnants of an energy drink. It stained the material red.
“I’m sorry, it was an accident —”
“Yeah, yeah. Just be more careful.”
“Douchebag,” she muttered under her breath.
“What did you just say?”
She hadn’t expected him to reply. Often, people were intimidated by Michelle’s directness. Not him, apparently.
“I said that you’re a douchebag.”
“Thanks,” he said sarcastically.
The doctor rolled his eyes before heading into the men’s changing room. His pants dripped a trail after him.
Michelle let out the breath she’d been holding. The guy’s face lingered in the forefront of her mind: dark hair, a square jawline, the beginnings of a beard. Planned or unintentional perhaps; Michelle couldn’t tell in the split-second she’d looked. Even so, his rugged appearance made her family physician look like an ugly troll doll in compariso
n.
She didn’t see guys like that every day. She rarely saw guys at all anymore. Most of the fitness classes Michelle taught were filled with women. And that was fine, but it meant that she severely lacked masculinity in her life.
That guy had been all man.
Her limbs tingled.
Something about doctors had always intrigued Michelle. They were smart: that was a given. Quick on their feet. They could decipher non-verbal signals and de-code onerous research articles. Not to mention that they knew the human body inside and out. She’d read somewhere that the average acceptance rate for medical school was something like 2%. You’d have to be something of a prodigy just to get in. This guy had clearly passed with flying colours, evidenced by his nametag.
What did it say again? She couldn’t picture it.
An announcement sounded over the speaker system:
“The hot yoga class will be starting in eight minutes. Head downstairs to join in!”
The studio was only half-full, mostly of women, as Michelle had predicted. The air was hot and heavy with humidity, reprieved only by a small gust of wind that blew in each time the door opened. Michelle laid her yoga mat at the front of the room and inhaled a deep breath, centering herself. She could do this. She did it all the time. On a typical week, she taught up to fifteen classes. What was one more?
The second the clock hit 10:00 AM, she began.
“Hi everyone, my name is Michelle Waters. I’m taking over for Angie. Today we’re going to be focussing on opening up the hips. We’ll begin seated.”
Her gaze went to the door as one last student trickled in, but she couldn’t judge them for being late. Not today.
Oh, great. It was him — Dr. Douchebag. Except now he wore a pair of grey shorts and a white muscle shirt, with black leggings beneath. Recognition flickered in his eyes for a moment. Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him.
He claimed a spot in the first row, right in front of Michelle. Now she had no choice but to look. Was he trying to push her buttons? She suddenly felt distracted.
“Okay, we’re going to begin moving on our hands and knees,” Michelle announced, demonstrating to the class. When she looked around the room, she swore she saw him staring at her backside. He could have been making sure he was in the proper position, but Michelle doubted it. His long yoga mat looked worn in, and he was even fitter than she was. He could be teaching this class, she thought as she watched him out of the corner of her eye. Slightly top-heavy, his broad shoulders tapered to an athletic waist. His calf muscles stuck out prominently through the thin fabric of his leggings.
“Now begin to make your way into downward dog. Pedal out the legs to give them a nice stretch. Great.”
Michelle walked around the room, tending to her students. She did her best to ignore the man, all too aware any time his eyes made contact with hers. Whenever they did, she had to resist checking what colour they were.
The class went by quickly, and by the end, Michelle felt as though she’d gotten a bit of a workout in herself. The room was as hot as lava. The windows had completely misted.
“Thank you all for your practice today. Namaste,” Michelle said, closing out the class. The students began packing up their belongings, filtering out of the room one by one. The doctor headed for the door. Michelle noticed a towel by his foot and tried to stop him.
“You forgot something.”
He turned and looked down.
“No, that’s not mine.”
“I think it is,” Michelle said cooly.
“It’s not, trust me.”
“I don’t trust you,” she stated flatly. “And I think that you just don’t want to clean up after yourself.”
The doctor laughed and shook his head.
“The nurses clean up after you at the hospital, don’t they?”
He shook his head again, faster this time.
“Wow, you’re just a know-it-all, aren’t you?”
“Yup,” Michelle agreed. “So tell me the truth.”
“I bet a little princess like yourself knows all about other people cleaning up their messes. Tell your sugar daddy ‘thank you’ for paying for those Lululemons, okay?”
“You’re a complete a —”
“I already told you —” They said at the same time.
The door swung open and a woman entered the room.
“Forgot my towel,” she said sheepishly. She retrieved it from the floor, still by the doctor’s foot, and left.
Michelle fought the urge to die of embarrassment.
“Sorry,” she said. “I guess I kind of over-reacted there.”
“You think?” He said sarcastically.
“You don’t have to be so rude, you know. I just apologized.” Michelle was getting fed up. Who did this guy think he was? Just because he was good-looking, had a good job, and he was smart and likely rich, she was supposed to forgive his behaviour? Well, when she thought about it…
“I’m sorry. I’m just flustered from before. I’m not having a very good day today,” the doctor said. Michelle couldn’t tell if his apology was sincere, but she chose to accept it anyway.
“It’s alright. I didn’t have a very good day either,” she smiled. There was a quiet moment.
“Well, I really liked your class. Do you teach any others?”
“I do. Not here though,” Michelle said. “I also teach at Green Lotus — about ten minutes from here. Tuesdays and Thursdays at noon.”
“Cool. I work in that area. Maybe I’ll swing by.”
“Alright. See you then.”
They smiled at each other. The anger Michelle had felt only moments ago was gone. If he wasn’t being genuine, Dr. Douchebag was a hell of a liar. She hoped he wasn’t one.
He turned to go.
“Bye, Michelle,”
The door shut.
“Bye…” But she realized he hadn’t told her his name.
Michelle’s skin was hot long after she left the steamy room. She took a shower at the studio, willing the hot doctor out of her mind every second she stood under the water. If she was at home, she might indulge in a fantasy about the two of them, but she was in public. It was too risky. She’d probably never see him again anyway.
She forced herself to wash as quickly as possible and left hurriedly. As she was crossing the street, a car pulled out in front of her, window rolled down. A range rover.
It was the doctor.
“See ya,” he hollered, rounding the corner.
Michelle bit her lip.
Tomorrow’s class was going to be a tough one.
2
___
Michelle touched herself when she got home. She tried to watch porn, but the videos she found online weren’t what she was looking for. She tried to picture someone in her mind — a celebrity, or an ex, but her mind kept going back to him: the douchebag. Why did she want him, anyway? She felt rattled and aroused. He’d been rude to her for 90% of their total interaction time. Yet somehow, the other 10% had managed to persuade her in the other direction.
It didn’t make sense.
And that’s why Michelle had to obsess over it. She wasn’t the type of woman to let men into her head. Normally, she slept with a guy a handful of times and kept him on standby as a booty call until further notice — provided they were good in bed. If they weren’t, she ghosted immediately. Sometimes she felt bad, but she reminded herself that men had done the same to her many times before. Any action on her part was purely karma fulfilling itself.
Still, no matter what, Michelle never got the flutter in her stomach: the feeling of anxiousness and excitement. This time was different. What she was feeling now went beyond that. Her skin buzzed. Her pulse quickened with the douchebag in mind. If Michelle didn’t know any better, she’d say her and the doctor had… chemistry.
“What’s got you all quiet and weird?” Her roommate Bree asked when she finally came out of her room.
“Nothing.” Michelle was a bad liar. “I’m hungover.”
Bree stared at her, her head tilted.
“We were at the same party last night. I’m pretty sure I was drunker than you. So spill.”
“Fine. There was a really rude doctor at the yoga studio.”
“Oh. Was someone hurt?”
“No, no. He was in my yoga class. I knocked into him beforehand and stained his scrubs.”
“Okay…”
“He was so… rude. And annoying. He said he was coming to my class tomorrow,” she said quickly.
“Aw,” Bree poked her. “Is my Michelle nervous? Oh my god. Hell must be freezing over. Are we going to die? Someone help!”
“Shut up.” Michelle frowned. “This isn’t like me, Bree!”
“I know,” Bree grinned. “I love it.”
She winked before disappearing to the washroom.
“I don’t!” Michelle shouted after her.
Bree re-appeared a minute later. Michelle had moved to the sofa, and Bree plopped down beside her with takeout Chinese food. The two of them ate while they spoke.
“Would it be so bad for you to like a guy, anyway? Doesn’t it make sleeping together better? It’d probably be hotter than a random hookup.”
“Maybe,” Michelle mused.
Bree rolled her eyes.
“Well, I think you should say yes if he asks you out. Or ask him out. Find out what your body is trying to tell you.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“It’s like this fortune cookie says,” Bree laughed and cleared her throat. “A journey across the world begins with a single step.”
That night, Michelle finally let herself indulge in a different kind of fantasy before she went to sleep:
The doctor strolled into the yoga studio before any of the others had arrived.
“Hey, you again.”
“Oh. Hi,” Michelle said.
“So, I wanted to ask you something.”
“Okay.”
“Would you want to go out for dinner tomorrow?”