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Sloane
“I feel really uncomfortable in this dress.” I pull it down as much as possible, locking my knees so the fabric doesn’t rise any higher, otherwise the club owner may mistake me for one of the pole dancers and stick me into one of those cages.
“You look amazing,” Shaye gushes, slurring her words. “I’m so glad you came tonight. And I have to tell you…this-s fucking outfit is-s so hot! I’m sweating like a whore in church in all this leather, S-sloaney-Baloney!” Her voice rises and she lets out a shrill giggle.
God, I hate that nickname. “Okay, babe. I came for a little while, but I think it’s time for me to head out. I’m so tired, and I—”
“No!” She points a finger at me. Her hand wobbles, like she’s not exactly sure where she’s pointing, and I can probably bat it away and send her face-down into the couch cushion because her balance is nil right about now. “You can’t go. I need you here.”
I sigh. “You have Kat, who, by the way, is much more on your level and doesn’t need to be up in about five hours for work.”
“You spend too much time at the hos-spital.” She picks up her glass and tries to sip from the straw, but her mouth isn’t cooperating. I swallow a snicker. Shaye is clearly enjoying her twenty-first birthday party...now, anyway. In a few hours, she’ll probably have her head stuck in a toilet. I see this level of drunk in the ER all the time and it never, ever ends well.
“It’s my job. I kind of signed up for that when I decided to become a nurse.”
She leans toward me and lays her arms over my shoulders, her lips close enough to peck me. “Listen, Shaye. You know I love you, but you’re really not my type. Although I am tempted to smack your ass in those pants.” I snicker and take a long swig from my bottle of water.
“I’m not going to kiss you, S-sloane. Don’t worry. But you have to kiss someone tonight. I can’t let you leave until you do.” She puts up her hands, although I think they’ll do her more good pressed into the couch. At least that’ll keep her from pitching forward and face-planting on the floor. “Don’t even try to fight me on that.”
“You can’t have everything.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “I didn’t fight you on the dress, remember? I was pretty agreeable about it, if memory serves.”
Shaye’s eyebrows knit together. “Oh, hmm. You’re right.” She narrows her eyes. “But that doesn’t count.”
“Why not? It’s not bad enough that I feel like a slutty mummy?” I snicker and take another sip of water.
“I happen to love that dress-s. And just so you know, I only want you to be happy.” Shaye pulls herself onto her knees, and by some miracle doesn’t end up rolling off the couch. She steadies herself by clapping her hands onto my shoulders. “Are you happy, S-sloane?”
Happy. There’s a word I haven’t really thought much about lately. Busy, yes. Stressed, definitely. Exhausted? No question about it.
But happy?
That remains to be seen.
“I’m good.” There’s a word.
“Good is bad.”
“Are you talking in code right now? Is this what too much vodka does to you?” I giggle. “Look, I appreciate your concern about my non-existent love life, but really, I’m fine. I have a lot going on right now, and I have to focus on my job.” And forgetting about Max for good.
“You work too hard.”
“Maybe I like not having too much downtime.” Downtime gives me time to think and wonder…like what exactly happened on Thanksgiving night between Max and that hoebag. And why he couldn’t even have the decency to text me that he’d opted for a booty call over my tiramisu.
I don’t have the energy to waste on that kind of crap.
“You’re getting in pretty close there, babe. It looks like you’re about to cop a feel.” Nico walks over and kneels down in front of Shaye. “And I can’t say I wouldn’t be turned on by watching this play out.”
Shaye snickers and slaps Nico’s shoulder. “You’re s-sick! I’m just catching up with my bestie. I miss her.”
“You just saw me a few hours ago!”
She shrugs. “Feels like longer.”
“That’s the booze talking.” I give her a quick hug and rise from the couch. “I hope you have a plastic bag in your precious Audi,” I murmur to Nico.
He winks. “I have a whole box.”
I start to back away as Shaye settles into Nico’s chest, her eyes drooping closed. They’ve been a lot more attached over the past month or so. Constantly together, almost like they can’t breathe on their own. It’s weird. And Shaye hasn’t been herself lately at all. Something is up with her. With them. I make a mental note to mention it to her. Maybe over some Swiss Miss hot chocolate to cushion the blow a bit. She can get pretty damn defensive. “Okay, this has been fun, guys.” Yes, fun like a scalpel to the chest without anesthetic. “Shaye, I’ll call you tom—"
