What's So Wrong With WaitingSpencer Davis just turned sixteen. But unlike most hormonal teenagers who seem obsessed with sex -- like her entire crew of friends -- Spencer just doesn't get it. She'd rather wait for the right guy and the right moment. But that moment may be arriving sooner than she'd thought.
Enter Benjamin Hopkins, a new transfer student who seems to have his eyes on our V-card-carrying heroine. He's gorgeous, funny, suave, athletic, and capable of making Spencer's knees wobble with a single glance. Spencer has never felt this way about anyone before, but is Ben truly V-worthy?
Chapter 1Where does the underwear go?
I, Spencer Davis, was naked from the waist down. I'd folded my jeans and put them on the single chair in the corner of the exam room but wasn't sure what to do with my underwear.
Should I hide them under my jeans or fold them neatly on top? If I hide them, then maybe the doctor will think I'm embarrassed about my body, but if I lay them out, then he will assume I have no problem with people staring at my underwear.
There was a knock at the door. I muttered a profanity and crammed the white cotton undies under my jeans. I made a running jump toward the exam table and miscalculated the distance.
Son of a bitch!
My knee slammed into the side and shifted the entire thing a good foot.
Doubling over in pain, I pulled my knee tightly to my chest, exhaling loudly in an effort not to cry out. The nurse knocked again.
"Everything all right in there?"
"Fine," I choked out. I pressed my forehead into my thigh and took several deep breaths to steady myself. "Everything is fine, give me just a minute."
Ow, ow, ow.
I limped toward the counter, grabbed a paper towel, and held it under the faucet of the sink. Turning on the water, I shivered as it saturated the paper and ran through my fingers. Goose bumps prickled up and down my naked legs.
This is so not my morning.
I balanced on one foot and pressed the cool compress to my swelling knee.
How did I end up here? This is totally insane.
Naked from the waist down, holding a flamingo pose as my knee throbbed, was not how I wanted the doctor to find me. I eyed the sterile-looking exam table critically. Of course, lying flat on my back, legs spread open for all to see, wasn't exactly the way I wanted the doctor to see me either.
Had anyone else ever spent their sixteenth birthday in this position before (no pun intended)? I snorted. Most sixteen-year-olds celebrated this milestone birthday with a big bash and amazing presents, like a new car.
My present was my first ob-gyn exam, courtesy of my forward-thinking mother, who thought birth control pills were a girl's rite of passage into adulthood. Mom used to teach Marital and Sexual Lifestyles (aka "Dirty 230") at Washington State University. I think her technical title was professor of women's studies, but since Dad moved us to the other side of the mountains for his job, her only outlet was volunteering at Planned Parenthood and trying to educate the unwashedmasses about effective birth control and preventing the spread of STDs. Because my sister was in college (she'd wisely chosen an out-of-state school) and I was still at home, I got the brunt of her educating impulses.
Like my sister before me, soon I would lie on the exam table, feet in stirrups, dying of embarrassment as our family doctor looked up myyoo hoo.
That thought almost made my knee injury pale in comparison. I hobbled over to the table and carefully took a seat. There was a paper drape within reach, so I covered my lap and sighed.
Another soft knock.
"I'm ready," I called out.Ready to die of embarrassment, I silently added.
The door opened to reveal a twentysomething blond nurse wearing blue scrubs, her hair clipped up haphazardly.
"I was starting to wonder if you were trying to make an escape or
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