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~ Bridget ~
Past
“OMG, did you see how hot that guy was?!” Amy squeals when I return to the bar after calming my nerves in the restroom. “He totally reminds me of Godfrey Gao. A clean shaven Godfrey, though Godfrey’s stubble is totally sexy, too.”
“You’re talking about the guy who insulted me?” I ask, wanting to go home. That statistics problem set is what looks sexy to me right now.
“What did he say?”
“That I was ugly.”
Amy’s brows shoot up with amazement that someone would be that mean to a stranger.
The bartender sets a glass of Coke in front of me. “Everything’s on the house tonight for you, ladies.”
“Thanks,” I say. “That’s really kind of you.”
“Boss’ orders,” he says.
“Oh, can I get another mojito then?” Amy asks. She hops onto the stool next to me.
I’m surprised security hasn’t already come for me, but maybe the bouncers are busy and it’s just a matter of time.
“Maybe you could apologize to the hottie.”
I want to do what I can to help Amy out, but I balk at that. “I don’t know. He was pretty damn rude. But if I get thrown out, I’ll just wait for you outside.”
“You want something else to go with your Coke?” the bartender asks after setting down the mojito for Amy.
“Maybe later,” I reply, appreciating the bartender’s act of courtesy, even if it’s because he feels bad for me.
“You should get one of these,” Amy says as she takes a long sip through the stirring straw. “They’re so good.”
“I don’t think alcohol is going to help me figure out my calc problem set.”
“Live it up a little, Bridget. We’re in a super-exclusive club, everyone looks stunning—”
“Everyone except me.”
Amy bites her bottom lip, then takes another sip of mojito.
“I know,” I acknowledge. “You told me to wear something nice.”
“Maybe if you took off that sweater…”
“Amy!” a man calls out.
A guy in his mid or late twenties walks up to us. This has to be JD. His jaw is less square but he has the same eyes as the guy who insulted me. I can see why Amy is swooning so badly. He has a boyish smile, his bangs hang long over his eyes—he keeps sweeping them back like some teenage heartthrob—and he’s dressed immaculately. I don’t know much about fashion, but I’m willing to bet his clothes and that gold bracelet around his wrist are expensive.
“So glad you came,” he greets Amy.
Her eyes light up like diamonds at seeing him. “Me, too. This place is amazing,” she gushes. “I brought a friend, Bridget. Hope you don’t mind.”
“’Course not. Hey, why don’t we go up to the balcony. It’s easier to talk there.”
Amy eagerly hops off the barstool.
“I’ll finish my Coke here, then join you guys,” I say.
