The Best Medicine (11 page)

Gamophobia

“Be honest. How many of you signed up for this class thinking it would be some kind of sex manual?”

Lauren glanced around the lecture hall to see hands raising as students tentatively searched for others who’d thought the same thing before they’d admit to it.
Seriously?

“Okay, okay, you can put your hands down,” Dr. Peterson said with a corresponding gesture. “Now, how many of you wanted to raise your hands for that question but were too embarrassed?”

A handful of students put their hands up.

“Interesting,” he added, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, which was trimmed neatly at the sides and a bit longer on top. “What’s even more interesting is that a few of you didn’t raise your hands at all. And that could only be because of one of two options.” He removed his glasses—which Lauren noticed were trendy for his age—and polished the lenses with his tie before speaking any further. She’d been in enough
psychology classes to know what Dr. Peterson was doing. He was waiting to see if anyone would guess the two options. When no one did, he continued. “Option one is the most plausible. Simple psychology really. When I asked my first question, you were embarrassed to admit you signed up for this class hoping to learn about sex. Then, when I asked you a second time, it felt stupid to admit that you didn’t raise your hand the first time because you were too embarrassed. After all, what’s more embarrassing than admitting you’re embarrassed?”

The class chuckled politely, Lauren included. There was something she instantly liked about Dr. Peterson. She wished she’d felt the same about the professor of her previous class. She just couldn’t get into a guy who seemed less enthused about teaching Psychology Factors in Aging than she was to learn about it.

Dr. Peterson turned away from the class and walked toward the interactive board at the front of the room. “Option two is that you actually know that this class will be about more than just sex. But I would venture to guess that those of you who didn’t raise your hands are in the embarrassed-to-be-embarrassed boat.” He paused for a moment to flash a picture of the
Titanic
on the screen. “Well, that boat’s sinking, so you’d better jump ship. We’ll be discussing some personal and taboo topics in here. So there’s no room for embarrassment.”

Lauren couldn’t stop the disappointment from flashing across her face. She didn’t like that he was making assumptions about her and her fellow students. It went against the very discipline he was supposed to be educating her about. Not to mention that she’d spent the entire
previous week prepping for this course.
Maybe Dr. Peterson isn’t going to be my cup of tea after all.

But before Lauren could dwell on her train of thought, the professor’s voice interrupted her. “Young lady in the purple, third row back.”

Lauren sat up straighter and gave a quick glance around the room.
Shit.

“You didn’t raise your hand, and you look a little . . . displeased. Tell me. Do you disagree with my hypothesis?” Dr. Peterson was questioning her, but nothing in his tone or posture was accusatory. He seemed genuinely interested.

Lauren took a moment to formulate a response. She had no desire to offend a man who would be responsible for her grade. Not that Peterson seemed like one for petty acts of vengeance. But she did have a strong feeling that she could learn a lot from this man. He seemed sharp. And she had no interest in getting off on the wrong foot with him. “Lauren Hastings,” she started with a slight smile, wanting to identify herself. She cleared her throat before continuing. “And yes, I do disagree.”

Her reply caused a steady murmur to roll through the crowd. Dr. Peterson continued to look at her with discerning eyes. “Go on,” he prompted.

“I guess I just found your generalization about the nonhandraisers a little off-base.”
Is nonhandraisers even a word? “
You assumed that most of the people who didn’t raise their hand didn’t do so because they were embarrassed. That wasn’t the case with me. I’ve already spent some time looking through the required readings for this course. I’m aware of what it’s about. That’s why I enrolled in it. I’m
interested in how people interact intimately, even when sex
isn’t
involved. In the psych classes that I’ve taken, I’ve learned that everyone has their own individual motives. And in this instance that was the case for myself.” Lauren found that she was talking faster now in an effort to justify herself. But the more she talked, the more she wished she could make herself shut up. “Sometimes people fit the mold, and sometimes they don’t. It just— The assumptions just rubbed me the wrong way, I guess. That’s all.”

Then Lauren heard her phone ding for the third time since lunch, only making the moment that much more awkward. She mentally scolded herself for not remembering to silence it. She’d been dodging her friends’ questions about Dr. Scott since the weekend.
What’s up with you and the hot doc? So, did you play doctor, or what? Has Dr. Scott examined you properly yet?
Lauren hadn’t returned any of the texts because she hadn’t wanted to disclose what had happened between her and Scott. Though she wasn’t really sure why. She never withheld anything from them. Especially details as juicy as the ones she had currently had. She was sure that the sound she’d heard was another text from one of them begging for information.

Surprisingly, Dr. Peterson didn’t say anything about the phone, and Lauren was momentarily thankful. “Thank you, Miss Hastings, for your thorough, if not long-winded, explanation.”
So much for being thankful.

Lauren wanted to crawl under her seat and hide. But then, he spoke again.

“Don’t worry. I tend to be quite, shall we say
detailed
, when I’m passionate about something as well. Which you’ll all soon find out,” he said, directing his attention
to the class again. “Now, if you’re wondering if this course is about sex, the answer is no.” There were some loud groans from the audience. “Is it about intimacy? No again. See, sex and intimacy are both mutually exclusive and one and the same. One can’t exist without the other, right? Or can they?”

Dr. Peterson put up a picture of a naked couple on the verge of kissing, the man’s hands placed lightly on the woman’s arms. The background was faded to black, and the couple was positioned vertically in the photo, making it difficult to tell where they were. “What do you think? Is this sex? Is it intimacy? Or is it both?” he asked the class. Take a minute to discuss this with someone nearby.”

Lauren turned to the girl beside her, who introduced herself as Miranda. She looked no older than twenty-two. “I think it’s intimacy,” Miranda said confidently. “Look at the way they’re embracing. You can see how gentle he is with her.”

“
Sex
can be gentle,” Lauren countered. “It doesn’t mean it’s intimate.”

“I agree sex is gentle,” Miranda replied.

Lauren didn’t bother to correct her and tell her that wasn’t what she’d said. Sex wasn’t always gentle, she knew that firsthand. Or at least she would when Dr. Scott stopped being an unbearable tease, and now, for the second time today, she found herself thinking about Scott.

“But you don’t even know they’re
having
sex,” Miranda continued. “You can’t see below their waists.”

“How many guys have you hugged naked and not had sex with?” Lauren quipped.

Dr. Peterson’s voice boomed through the room,
interrupting the conversations before Miranda had a chance to respond. “Okay, okay, that’s enough idle chitchat. I know you’re all on the edge of your seats to know the answer.” The room remained quiet, and Dr. Peterson continued. “All right, maybe not. But that’s probably a good thing because I don’t have one for you.” A small rumbling overtook the room. Clearly, many of the students were eager to learn if they’d been right in their prediction, Lauren included. “You see, there is no clear answer for the couple in this photo just as there is often no clear answer in real life. The lines between sex and intimacy often become blurred. That’s why this is a topic of such controversy. Sex is a physical action. Most people won’t argue with that.” Many of the students nodded their assent, and “Mm-hms” were heard throughout the room. “Just as most people won’t argue that you can have intimacy without sex. Correct?” As Dr. Peterson probably expected, no one contradicted him. “So,” he said dramatically, “where’s the disagreement then?”

“Can there be sex without intimacy?” a high-pitched voice yelled from the back.

Dr. Peterson pointed to the person who had said it. “Precisely,” he said. “Now I’m sure since most of you are in your midtwenties, you’ll say, ‘But Dr. Peterson, haven’t you ever heard of a one-night stand?’ Why yes, I have. I know it’s hard to believe, but they had them back in
my
day too. We just used the floors of caves instead of beds.”

Even Lauren couldn’t suppress the laugh that escaped her.

“I actually don’t mean to make light of it. It’s a good point, the one-night stand argument. But critics would say that sex, in and of itself, is always an intimate act
because you are opening up to someone in the most vulnerable way possible. The obvious exception being rape, of course. But for our purposes here, we are speaking only of consensual sex. So I leave the question for all of
you
,” he said, lifting his arms out toward the class. “Can sex exist devoid of any intimacy? Think about it, and I’d like a two- to three-page paper with your thoughts next time we meet.”

Lauren quickly typed the question on her laptop and then gathered her belongings before heading out the door. When she was finally out of the lecture hall, she reached into her bag to check the texts from Cass, or Quinn, or Simone. She knew it had to be one of them. They couldn’t just drop things. But when she pushed the home button, she was surprised to not only see texts from the girls, but also one from Scott. She quickly typed in her code—which she reminded herself should probably be changed to keep certain doctors from accessing her personal information—and clicked into her texts to see his message in its entirety.
Good luck on your first day. Although, I guess it’s probably almost over by now. Hope you didn’t feel too old around all the other students. Learn anything?

Lauren quickly typed her response.
Thanks. You don’t really learn much on the first day. And no, no one even noticed I was old as dirt. Well, no one except for you. Guess I’ll see you at work tomorrow. Hope you’re feeling 100% ;)
She figured that, being as smart as he was, it wouldn’t take long for Scott to pick up on the implication of that last sentence. Satisfied with herself, she quickly shoved her phone back into her bag and headed toward the parking lot.

*   *   *

Scott sat in the hazy lighting of his favorite neighborhood bar, Calhoun’s, with his best friends, Alex and Xavier. They had been talking about the Redskins’ deplorable preseason for the last half hour, and Scott was growing increasingly depressed as the conversation wore on.

“I’m telling you, the preseason means nothing. Just let them get their rhythm back and it’ll be all good.”

Alex, ever the optimist.
Scott lifted a pint glass of Dos Equis to his lips and took a long sip. He had been participating in the conversation, but his head wasn’t in it. No, his mind was permanently fixated on his text to Lauren earlier.
Did I really text her to see how her day was going? Fucking sap.
And then she’d replied with that sexually charged winky face and he had to do everything he could not to jerk off in his office. Everything was becoming muddled. Despite his desire to keep their relationship casual, every one of his actions made it something . . . more. But he didn’t want
more. More
meant drama, and pain, and sacrifice. And Scott needed to experience those things again like he needed to drive nails into his arms.

“You’re dreaming, Alex,” Xavier responded. “Speaking of dreaming, what the hell is up with you? Trying to solve discrete geometry problems?” Xavier bumped his elbow against Scott’s.

“No, I leave that math shit to nerds like you,” Scott replied with a smirk.

“Yeah well, nerds of a feather flock together, my friend.”

Scott laughed at their old motto. He had met Alex and Xavier in his freshman year at Brown, and they became immediate friends. It helped that they were all
good looking kids with IQs bordering on the obscene. Scott had the same problem fitting in in college as he did at the hospital. But with Alex and Xavier, Scott didn’t have to worry about any of that bullshit. It was why they’d stuck together all of these years, both Alex and Xavier taking jobs in Washington, D.C., after they’d finished their graduate work. Xavier worked as a financial analyst, doing something that required the highest level of government clearance, and Alex was a supervisory special agent assigned to the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime at Quantico.

“So what’s going on?” Xavier questioned.

“Nothing. Just tired, I guess.”

“You’re such a shit talker, Jacobs. You’re sitting there, being all contemplative, while I bash your beloved Redskins. Something is definitely up. Let me guess. Your pretty boy looks are starting to diminish with age and now you’re only getting laid every
other
night.”

Scott shot him a withering look, to which Xavier simply laughed.

“Okay, I guess that’s not it. Any guesses, Alex?”

“You’re having a hard time figuring out how to spend your trust fund? I already told you, supporting a charity called Get Chicks Naked is not the best way to build your practice.”

“You guys are hilarious. Seriously. You should take your act on the road. You’d make tens of dollars.”

Alex and Xavier laughed their reply.

Scott rested one forearm on the bar as he slid his other one into his pocket, fiddling with the silver dollar. Part of him wanted to tell his buddies what was going on with Lauren. How he often had trouble figuring out
whether he was coming or going ever since he’d met her. But a bigger part didn’t want to seem like a giant pussy, so he changed the subject instead. “Though you may not want to incur any extra income, Alex. It’ll only make Tessa take you back to court.” Maybe deflecting attention onto his best friend by referencing his messy child support battle wasn’t the most thoughtful thing to do, but nothing else came to mind quickly enough.