Mitchell
“So, when is our wedding?” asked the woman in the white coat.
“I-I…”
“Relax, handsome. I won’t hold you to it. Guys like you weren’t made for girls like me.”
He stared at her, wondering why she would say something so ridiculous.
“What does that mean? I’m not smart enough? I’m not young enough? You don’t like military guys? You’re in the wrong fucking place if that’s the case.”
She seemed stunned by his statement, her face turning an ashen color, the bright red. She grabbed the stool and sat down.
“Mitchell, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that at all. Surely, surely you see that I’m not the kind of woman that gets a man like you.”
“What kind of woman is that, Marnie? It is Marnie, right?” She nodded at him nibbling on her lip.
“If you’re being cruel, it’s not funny.”
“I’m not sure how I’m being cruel. Answer my question. Please.” The please made her reconsider walking out of the room. She slowly stood, pushing the stool back with one foot.
“I know all your stats,” she said calmly, quietly. “Six-four and one-quarter. Two-hundred-and-twenty-two pounds. Retired Navy SEAL. Triplet. Blonde, although I would call it strawberry blonde. Blue eyed. Thirty-four.”
“Good. I already knew that,” he smirked.
“Look at me, Mitchell. I don’t find this funny. I’m five-ten, one-hundred and eighty pounds. I have brown eyes. Brown hair. Average. Average. I’m nothing special and I’m definitely not the sort of woman that SEALs date.”
He stared at her and then wiggled his finger for her to come closer. She took two steps forward and stopped. He wiggled his finger again and she moved forward. When she was directly in front of him, he pulled her across his body on the gurney, gripping her hair in his hands.
“You are exactly the sort that this SEAL would date.”