We end up ambling over to a bar across the street to wait for the traffic to clear, and once I’m armed with a beer and Greg with a soda and bitters, we find a small table in the corner of the courtyard.
“Why don’t you drink anymore?” I ask, clinking my glass against his before I take the first sip. Fairy lights hang above us, strung across the courtyard, and a live band is setting up in the opposite corner from where we sit.
Greg shrugs, drinking his soda water. “I haven’t ever, really. Unless you count the few parties I went to when I was a teenager.”
“I was going to say, I’m pretty positive I caught you and David drunk as skunks after stealing a bottle of my tequila one night.”
He grimaces. “God, don’t remind me. I was so sick the next day.”
“Is that why you stopped?”
Another shrug. “Part of it, I guess. I don’t like the feeling of being hungover, or even drunk, really. Not having control of my body, of what I’m saying. Besides, going through med school will show you in gory detail the effects of long-term drinking.”
I make a face at my beer then. “You saying I should stop?”
“No,” he says on a laugh. “I don’t think you drink nearly enough to be concerned about it. But if you wanted to stop, I’d absolutely support you on that.”
“It must be hard, fielding all the questions about why you don’t drink.”
“It’s annoying more than anything — especially when you get the drunk girl who’s like oh, I’m totally going to be the first one to get you drunk, like she’s the first one to tell you that, or like it’s some sort of life goal for her now.”
I laugh at the mocking voice as he rolls his eyes.
“When was the last time you had a drink?”
He stills at that, finger gliding over the condensation on his glass. “The night I kissed you.”
His eyes meet mine then, and the warmth drains from my face.
It happened. We both have always known that it happened. But neither of us have ever acknowledged it, ever spoken it into existence.
Sometimes, I’d wonder if he even remembered.
I have my answer now.
“I knew after what I’d seen that night that I never wanted to get to a place where alcohol controlled me,” he says softly.
Flashes of Josh screaming at me fill my mind, and my arms sting as if his hands are gripping them just like they did that night.
Greg takes a big drink before nodding toward the arena behind me. “So, what did you think?”
I’m thankful for the subject change, and I blow out a breath on a smile. “It was awesome.”
“Right? The energy at one of those games is unlike anything else. I can never get enough of it.”
“I think you were the one supplying it,” I tease.
He grimaces. “Hopefully I didn’t embarrass you.”
“Are you kidding? I loved it. You were so passionate, so… loud.”
He laughs. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”
“It is, sometimes. I liked seeing you that way.” I pause, holding up my glass and taking a small sip before saying, “It was pretty hot, actually.”
My eyes meet his, and Greg swallows, my attempt at a joke apparently hitting the wrong nerve.
After Sunday, I understand why.
I clear my throat, sitting up taller. “Okay. So,” I say. “What the hell do I do on this date tomorrow night?”
Remind him we’re just friends.
Remind myself why it’s important it stays that way.
Greg shifts, but the animosity I saw in his eyes on Sunday night when I told him about my date with Samuel doesn’t seem to be present now. Maybe he’s realized just like I have that this is for the best.
“Just be yourself.”
“Myself is an awkward hot mess,” I deadpan. “Come on, give me some tips. Spill all your expert secrets.”
He barks out a laugh at that. “Well, I wouldn’t call someone who has gone on roughly a dozen dates an expert.”
I arch a brow. “There’s no way I’m believing that lie.”
“Hard to date when you’re in med school, and even more so when you’re establishing a reputation at a level one trauma center.”
I gape at him. “So, you’re telling me you’ve never had a steady relationship?”
“I’ve had some,” he says with a shrug. “A girl I dated for about a year in college. Another for several months when I was in my residency in Chicago. But my focus was narrow then. School and my career were all that mattered to me.”
“And now?”
He sighs. “Now, I’m ready to have a life outside of the hospital. But…” Greg’s voice fades, and he shakes his head. “This isn’t about me. Where is he taking you? Let’s start with that.”
I frown, wanting to know what he was going to say, but I let him drop it.
“Dinner at some place called Bern’s?”
He whistles. “Bern’s Steak House. Fancy.”
I blanch. “Oh, God. Is it?”
“Don’t freak out,” he says. “Just… dress up. It’s nothing too intense, but you’ll definitely have multiple courses, and more forks than they give you at Chili’s.”
I laugh at that.
“If it’s dinner, it’ll be a lot of talking. If you’re nervous, maybe think of a few questions you can ask if there’s a lull in the conversation.”
“And order wine immediately.”
Greg smiles, but it slips quickly, and he opens his mouth to say something, but shuts it again.
“What?” I probe.
“Nothing. I just…” He grabs the back of his neck, shaking his head again. “Nothing.”
“Okay… clearly it’s not nothing.”
He sighs. “Just be careful with him, Amanda. I asked Asher about him, and he’s kind of a playboy.”
I blanch, first at the fact that he asked Asher about the guy on my behalf, and then at the insinuation that I’m just another notch on Samuel’s headboard.
When I don’t say anything, Greg scrubs his jaw, continuing. “I know you’re excited about the date — about dating, in general — I just don’t want you to get hurt in the process. Not every guy has honest intentions.”
My face heats. “So, you’re saying there’s no way he could want more from me than sex?”
I don’t mean it to sound so accusatory, but my heart rate spikes, the familiar feeling of not being enough straining my throat. I can’t help but wonder if I looked more like Meadow Matthews if he’d be having this same conversation, because I hear everything he’s not saying.
She’s the kind of girl you date.
I’m the kind of girl you fuck and leave.
Through the sound of my heart beating loud in my ears, I hear Josh’s voice like a distant echo that will never cease.
You’ll never find someone who wants you.
You’re too fat for anyone else to love.
You’re lucky you have me. You’ll never find anyone else.
The only thing you’re good for is—
“I didn’t say that,” Greg says softly, his voice snapping me out of those tumultuous thoughts.