His name is Brecken?
What kind of name is that? And how on earth did something like this happen?
“I’ve always meant to ask you Rina if you ever met Brecken when you were living in New York,” Aria says, and I start choking. A piece of corn chip lodges itself in my throat and I have to scramble for Halle’s water before I die right here at the table. Brecken is staring at me with amusement and probably a little pity at my stunning display, and I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience. “Are you okay?”
I give her a thumbs up, my face likely redder than it was two minutes ago. Finally, I manage to swallow the chip down my esophagus. “Why would you think we would have met?”
“You went to nursing school at Columbia, right?” I nod numbly. “That’s where Breck went though I guess it is unlikely considering you’re older and were a finance major,” she finishes with him.
“You’re a nurse?” Brecken’s eyes sparkle into mine. And he’s smirking. In such a way that tells me he already knows I’m a nurse. Did I tell him that? I can’t remember. Maybe it was before he took me back to his apartment and screwed my brains out well into the predawn January first hours.
“I’m a nurse.” And clearly, English is like my fifth language at the moment. But given the night I’ve had; you can hardly blame me. “I work across the street.”
“Very nice,” he replies, that smirk growing to naughty proportions. The waitress picks this particular moment to show up with a tray of alcohol along with her phone number in pink scrawl on a white napkin for the gentleman of the hour.
He doesn’t even acknowledge it. His eyes are too busy feasting on me.
The second my fresh cocktail—number three if we’re keeping track—hits my hand, I down it like I’m pledging for a sorority. The back of my hand wipes my lips and I sputter out a cough. Freaking Margot pats my back, giving me a side-eye.
Margot who drinks her feelings on a regular basis.
“Do you want me to take you home?” she questions softly in my ear, concern covering her beautiful face, and I love her. Margot is a zero judgment type of chick. “Did you have a rough meeting with your parents?”
“No,” I lie, my head suddenly spinning. “I’m okay.”
I’m not okay. I reach out and grab another chip and scoop it balls deep in some guac before shoveling it into my mouth, crunching loudly and unapologetically. I’m dying right now. Like, seriously, my brain is out of control.
Aria.
Brecken.
I have no idea what to do. Do I try to get him alone? Do I laugh it off like, oh wow, can you believe the odds and let’s never speak of it again? But before I can figure out what my plan is, Brecken leans over to Aria and plants a kiss on her cheek.
Standing up, he tosses out five one-hundred-dollar bills like he’s a goddamn Rockefeller and then announces, “I gotta get going. I have plans with a girl.” His eyes float over me like I’m not even here. “It was nice meeting you all,” he says, shaking hands with Jonah and waving to Margot and Halle.
And because I’m dumb, I frown.
Does he really not remember me? I thought for a moment there he did, but now…
“Seriously, Breck?” Wes throws out, his eyebrows at his hairline as he stands to hug his friend. “You moved into town about ten minutes ago. How on earth do you have a girl to meet up with already?”
Brecken slaps him on the back, tossing Wes a cocky wink. “Call me tomorrow. I’d like to check out the gym you were talking about. Later.” He pounds it out with Josh and then he’s gone. Like… gone. Like I’m left here staring after his retreating form without any comprehension as to what the hell just happened.
“Um. That’s your brother?” I ask my best friend. You know, just to confirm my nightmare.
She nods warily. Then shrugs. Then throws her hands up in the air. “Yeah. Sorry. He’s a total asshole. I mean, Breck has only cared about one person in his whole life and that’s himself, so ignore his rude behavior. When it comes to getting laid, nothing else matters to him.”
“That’s not true,” Wes quickly intercepts. “Breck is a great guy. He’s always been there for me and you. He’s probably just out of sorts from the move.”
Aria and Wes exchange meaningful glances and obviously something significant passes between them before she nods several times. “You’re right. Breck has always been there for you when you needed him. He’s been there for me too, if we’re going there. I just hate what a player he is. A different woman practically every night of the week.”
“Okay,” I hum out, ignoring the statement about a different woman every night. “But he lives here now?”
“Yeah.” Josh laughs. “He’s wicked hot, right? I mean, did you see those forearms? That face?”
Yes, Josh. Yes, I did.
“Who cares about his forearms? He’s good-looking, but forearms?” Halle questions, and I realize that her man is right here and he’s cute and all, likely just as built since he seems to be, but the girl is clueless. Jonah leans in and kisses the corner of her mouth, so maybe she’s not.
“Yes, forearms,” Josh cuts in. “They’re like foreplay. If a man has nice forearms, then he likely knows what he’s doing in bed.”
Margot snorts out a laugh. “How does that even make sense?”
“It does. Trust me.”
“No wonder I’ve had such shitty luck with that,” Margot states. “I haven’t been looking at the right pieces of anatomy. Maybe I should take up with your brother, Aria, now that I know all about his impressive… forearms.”
Jonah snickers and Halle throws him a look and thankfully there is nothing that I’m eating or drinking at the moment or I’d likely start choking again.
“Ew. Can we stop talking about my brother like this? And no, you cannot take up with him. My brother has destroyed more of my friendships than I can count because of his… forearms.”
I laugh. It’s a little high-pitched. Possibly a bit psychotic. A lot strangled.
“Okay, whatever,” Margot concedes. “But can we stop using forearms as a euphemism because it’s starting to confuse me. I can’t tell if we’re talking about sex, his actual forearms, or his penis at this point.”
Aria makes extreme gagging sounds along with overdramatized fake vomiting motions at the word penis. I think I just hit a new all-time low.
“I need to get home,” I announce sharply, more than done with this conversation. All eyes are suddenly on me, and I know I must look and sound insane. “It’s late and I’m exhausted. Bad family convo and all that.” Nothing I’m saying is a lie. I am exhausted. I did have a bad family convo. So sure, let’s go with all of that.
“You sure you don’t want me to walk you?” Margot tries again and I shake my head, offering her a weak smile.
“No. I’m good. Like I said. Just tired. I’ll call you tomorrow after your shift.”
I somehow make it to my five-inch stilettoed feet and reach the door. I have no idea if I even say goodbye or anything else. All I know is that I need fresh air. Even if it’s end of summer in Boston fresh air.