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The low humof music surrounds us, and all around me, I hear clinking glasses, conversations, and laughter. I’m still wearing my scrub suit, not wanting to go home and change.
My friends are getting increasingly louder the more drinks arrive at our table. I’ve only had one beer, and I’m still nursing it after an hour. It already tastes funky to me.
I really am not in the mood to go out, drink, or pretty much do anything else, but I’m also tired of sulking, especially when I know the room next door will be empty within the week.
What Max doesn’t know is that I’ve reached a new low. I’ve reduced myself to a stalker—waiting for her to finish work, following her from the office to our apartment. I try to tell myself I just want to make sure she gets home safe, but it’s a lie … kind of. I also want to see if she’s already seeing someone else.
The two concert tickets burn a hole in my pocket, a heavy reminder of the moment things changed between us. I slid it under her door the other night, so she could watch even if it wasn’t with me. But I woke up to find them under my bedroom door.
The concert’s supposed to be tonight.
“Oh shit, it’s Max,” Kevin says.
That makes my head snap up, sure that my obsession with her has me hearing things.
“Who?” Brandon asks.
“Max. The new girl on the third floor. She’s with the visual arts team.”
“Is she hot?”
“You bet.”
My hand tightens on the bottle, my blood freezing solid. There’s throbbing in the center of my chest, jealousy coiling in my lungs, making it harder to breathe.
It’s Max alright. Max in her silk flowy dress and heels. She shouldn’t look as delectable as she does right now. In seconds, the promise I made to myself—to keep my distance and let her be—begins to fray, thread by fucking thread.
“Fuck, you’re right. Introduce me.” Brandon elbows Kevin, who just chuckles.
“Nah, man. She already blew off half the straight male population at work and even the females trying to hit on her.”
“She hasn’t met me yet.”
Brandon is a good guy and a reliable co-worker. We make a good team at the hospital, but right now, I want to knock off his teeth and make him swallow them one by one.
I exhale forcefully through my nose when he takes a long swallow from his bottle and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He stands to his full height, winks at us over his shoulder, and strides to Max’s table. She’s with two other women, and they’re chatting animatedly.
Anyone with two eyes and a brain can tell they’re here to have a girls’ night and not to look for hookups. But Brandon’s brain must’ve turned to mush from the alcohol.
Max doesn’t even spare him a glance as he stands like an idiot beside her.
“Hi. I’m Brandon,” he drawls.
“And I’d like to be left alone, please. Thank you,” Max replies, barely acknowledging his presence.
I give him exactly two seconds to back off. When he doesn’t, I set the bottle down on the table with more force than necessary and march toward them.
Max probably senses me because she swivels on her chair, and our gazes lock. Tensed silence hangs between us, and Brandon darts his eyes from her to me. “You know her, bud?”
“What are you doing here, Mika?”
My eyes follow the voice, only for them to land on the last person I expect to find—Aunt Mindy. I don’t know why I failed to notice her earlier, but she’s wearing a frown as she flits her gaze between me and Max.
“I’m here with my friends,” I answer her. Turning to Max, I say, “Hi Max. The concert’s tonight, and I have the tickets right here.”
“What concert? What’s going on? Max?” Aunt Mindy tugs on Max’s arm, but she just squeezes Aunt Mindy’s hand.
“You know each other, Mika? Why didn’t you say so?” Brandon may be a good ER nurse, but he doesn’t know how to read the room.
