“So how’s the man with two first names?” Jesse asked, changing the subject again.
He always called Richard that since his name was Richard Thomas. It annoyed me at first because it had been my husband that he was making fun of, but now I just found it funny.
“You know, that means I have two first names, too,” I said.
“Yeah, but your last name is a guy name, so it’s okay.”
I giggled. Actually giggled, like a stupid kid with a crush on the hot guy. Which was accurate, except I wasn’t a kid.
“You have two first names, too,” I countered, realizing for the first time that he actually did. I think I’d been too mesmerized by those dark, mysterious eyes to register that fact all of the times he’d teased me about my husband’s name before.
“I suppose I do,” he grinned. We smiled at each other for a beat. “So he’s good?” he pressed, and I sensed that he knew something was up.
I shrugged. “Sure. He’s fine.”
“What’s going on, V?” His voice was low and intense and an image of him hovering over me inappropriately flashed through my mind.
“Nothing,” I said, shoving a potato skin covered with sour cream into my mouth. Not a smart move, but I wasn’t prepared to talk about it. Plus, I was already feeling the first effects of the vodka, and vodka, as everyone knows, is truth serum. The last thing I needed was to make a drunken confession about the state of my marriage to my crush.
I chewed like a horse on my food, my mouth stuffed full. Jesse grinned over at me, and then he brought his finger to my mouth, wiping a little excess sour cream from the side of my lip. I briefly closed my eyes and sighed through my food, and then I saw him lick the sour cream off of his fingers. It was far more intimate a moment than should have been shared between two friends, and I felt myself melt a little further into my chair as my eyes widened. I glanced across the table and saw Quinn, her mouth hanging open at the exchange.
I finished chewing my food and swallowed, and then I followed it with a giant gulp of my drink.
Before I knew it, my potato skins were gone and my drink was empty. Suddenly I had the strong urge to pee.
“Excuse me,” I said, leaving my purse and my phone at the table. Quinn got up and followed me.
“What’s going on?” she asked once we were in the safety of the restroom behind closed doors. I checked under the stalls to be sure we were alone.
“What do you mean?” I asked innocently, and then I headed into a stall to do my business while Quinn took the empty stall next to me.
“With you and Delicious Drake?”
“Nothing’s going on, Quinn. I’m married for Christ’s sake.”
“How is the old ball and chain? You haven’t talked about Racy Richard in forever.”
Quinn never made it a secret when she thought someone was hot, my nearly ex-husband apparently included.
“He’s fine.”
“What’s he up to on this fine Friday?”
“Hell if I know,” I muttered. I finished up and flushed, and I heard her flush a few seconds later. We met at the sink.
“What did you say?” she asked.
“I don’t know what he’s up to. I just know I’m here at happy hour and having fun. What are your plans after this?”
“Meeting Caleb,” she said, grinning. Caleb was her current fuck buddy (“and nothing more,” so she claimed).
“No nickname for Caleb yet?” I asked.
She grinned. “Cock-a-licious?”
“Nice,” I said with a smirk. “More info than I needed. But you kids have fun.”
“You and Richard have big plans for the weekend?”
I thought about that. I doubt she meant filing for divorce, but that had suddenly become my weekend plan. To answer her question, I shook my head, inspecting my face in the mirror and wiping away a tiny smudge of eyeliner.
“Nope,” I said. “Grading papers, maybe.”
“That sounds like a lame ass weekend.”
“Tell me about it,” I said with a sigh.
We headed back out, and my heart did a little flip flop and my breath got stuck somewhere in my esophagus when I saw Jesse stretch in his chair, the hem of his shirt rising up just a little to reveal the bottom of what looked like a perfect washboard stomach. I thought I spotted some ink, too, but it was hard to tell from my quick glance. But a tattoo? On Jesse Drake? Yes please.
I was in serious trouble.
“Jesus Christ,” Quinn said, apparently having spotted the same sight as me. She sighed. “Too bad I don’t sleep where I work, or I’d have to give that a try,” she said. Funny how the one limit she set was the one thing I was suddenly obsessing over.