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"I'm sure you do." I laugh and take a long sip of my own cocktail, hoping it will calm my still-jilted nerves. The taste of the tequila tries to pull at old memories, but I drink it fast enough that my brain doesn’t get too long to wander.
"I thought the other dress was nice, but this..." Wes leans into me so I can hear his words as his eyes give me an appreciative once-over. I feel the heat spread across my cheeks as I blush.
"Have a shot!" Rhea reaches down and grabs two of the little glasses, holding them both up. I hesitate for a moment.
"What's in them?"
"Shot roulette!" Rhea cries, pumping her fist in the air like some sort of cheerleader.
"How much did you drink while I was gone?" I chuckle, taking the first shot and peering tentatively inside. The glass is too dark to tell what kind of liquor it is, and the smell is just an alcohol burn. But I don't really care what it is as much as I care how well it will ease the cocktail of anxiety and adrenaline in my stomach. Though nothing actually happened, my nerves are frayed from the bathroom incident.
I toss my head back and drink it down, coughing at the afterburn as I set it down on the table.
"You were gone foreverrrrr." Rhea draws out the last syllable, punctuating it with a roll of her eyes.
"Yeah." I agree. "Long line."
"Of course.” She rolls her eyes so dramatically it makes my head ache. “I'm going to start using the men's restroom. In fact, I have to go right now."
"No!" I all but yell, stopping her before her ass fully leaves the couch. A few people turn to shoot nosy glances at me, and Rhea raises an eyebrow in an unspoken question. "If you pee now, you'll be going every twenty minutes the rest of the night."
That placates her, and Rhea taps me on the nose. "Clever, clever, Claire." She giggles and stands, pulling Ryan to his feet. "Come on, I want to dance."
Ryan, always eager to please Rhea, jumps to his feet like a golden retriever and allows himself to be pulled to the dance floor, where they disappear in a crowd of moving bodies. Wes turns to me. "Do you want to dance too?"
"I'm not there yet." I laugh, eyeing the other shot on the table in front of me.
"Thank God." Wes laughs too, grabbing the little glass off the table and handing it to me. "I'm a terrible dancer."
I take it with a smile and choke it down before looking back at Wes with tear-filled eyes. "That burns." I say, fanning my face like that will help chase away the afterburn. "I'm pretty sure that was straight isopropyl."
"Isopropyl." He grins, flashing brilliant, straight teeth. While Ryan looks to be a businessman of sorts, Wes looks like a fringe doctor… a veterinarian or dentist, maybe. He’s polished, wearing an expensive-looking watch and shiny shoes, but he also has a much more relaxed vibe than his friend. "I like the way you say that. Are you a nurse?"
"No." I laugh. "That little dress you were so fond of is my work uniform. I’m just a waitress."
"Yikes.” He shakes his head like I’ve just disappointed him. “Just a waitress, huh?"
"Is that not enough for you?" I narrow my eyes on him. I know nothing about this guy and am beginning to feel emboldened by the alcohol to say so.
"I've never dated anything less than a flight attendant." He strokes his chin, thoughtful, and then dissolves into another one of those big smiles. "I'm teasing, Claire. I don't care what you do for work. Does it make you happy?"
"I like it, actually." I admit. "It's low-key, keeps me busy, and the tips are mind-blowing."
"That's cause you're easy on the eyes." As if to prove the point, his own eyes slip over me to assess the statement. "I mean, I'm sure you're good at your job, too, but that's only half of it."
"Um... thanks." I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, not entirely sure whether that was meant to be a quirky compliment or not. "So, where do you work?"
"No work." He leans back with his hands behind his head, the epitome of casual, and appraises me.
"No work?"
Wes shakes his head as I repeat his answer.
"You're one of those... like Ryan?” I don’t mean for the contempt to ooze out of my voice, but that doesn’t stop it. “A trust-fund kid just seeing where life takes you?" I’m used to being around people who are financially sound, but the thought of dating someone with a sense of entitlement bigger than their personality is a hard pass.
"Not exactly." He lifts his rocks glass to his lips, barely concealing the grin there. "I just graduated med school. I start my residency in a few weeks, actually."
"Wow. That's impressive." I blink. "So that's why you asked if I was a nurse."
