Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Jeff
“I brought some burritos just in case you guys were–”
I pause at the top of Meredith’s staircase and look around like I’m in the wrong apartment. Painted floors. Check. Navy bookcases. Check. And the phallic watercolor over my right shoulder certifies that I’m in Meredith’s bachelorette dungeon.
Devon leans back against the leather couch cushion and crosses her arms over her chest.
“You brought us burritos? Isn’t that nice! Devon? Isn’t Jeff so nice for bringing us burritos?” Meredith asks from the kitchen. I hadn’t noticed her there.
Devon doesn’t answer.
“Actually, I only brought two—"
“Perfect because it’s just me and Devon. Kev got called in for a gunshot wound and Syd just got picked up!”
Meredith’s voice is way too chipper for discussing a gunshot wound, but I force my eyes away from Devon’s face and drop the paper bag of food on the round table that we used to play cards on Thursday.
I turn to find Mer grinning at me. Two weeks hanging out with her after work and lunching together at the hospital and her smile still brings my arm hair to attention. She opens the fridge with a flourish.
“Pick your poison,” she tells me.
“I’ll have whatever you two are drinking,” I say, and Mer’s smile turns to something even more devilish. I glance over my shoulder at Devon, but she’s busy pretending to study the remote.
“Dev, you cool if I share el Blanco?” Mer asks.
“Si,” Devon says and it’s the unexpected sibilance of her response that makes me realize what I’ve just walked into.
“Are you two drunk?” I ask with a chuckle.
“Lightweight is,” Mer answers, looking over my shoulder at Devon as she pours me a glass of tequila.
Devon forgets that she dislikes me for a moment and smiles.
“I am mildly buzzed,” she says. I can’t help but smile back.
“You’re in my spot,” I tell her. She looks around at the couch and then back at me with wide eyes like I’ve just stuck my finger into the tiger’s cage at feeding time. And I might be that stupid, baiting her when she’s obviously tipsy. But it’s really hard to resist.
“Let’s be clear, Doctor Dick—”
Doctor Dick? When the hell did I get that nickname? I bite back a chuckle.
“This couch and my ass have a longstanding relationship.” She rubs the leather like she’s petting a dog. “And no one—not even some smarmy surgeon from the Midwest—is going to wheedle his way in between my butt and this cushion.”
I take a sip of the tequila and try to look offended.
“I have no intention of butt wheedling. And smarmy?” I whisper into the bottom of the glass. “I was aiming for charming.”
She shakes her head slowly and says, “You missed.”
“Are you two done with the foreplay? I’d like to eat my burrito without wanting to vomit,” Meredith chimes in as she slides into a chair at the table in the corner.
Devon says yes and I say no. Meredith rolls her eyes.
“What’s the deal with you two anyway?” Mer takes a giant bite of the burrito and closes her eyes.
I look to Devon to respond but she is glaring at me. I can practically hear her voice saying, Don’t you dare, Dr. Dick. So I shrug and drop into the chair beside Meredith, who’s looking between us while making out with her burrito. She swallows and takes a sip of tequila.
“Alright. If you two aren’t gonna fess up, I’m gonna have to start throwing out guesses. Devon, did Jeff sleep with your mom?”
I laugh and Devon pulls her boot off the coffee table and makes her way over to join us.
“Not yet,” she answers seriously.
“Alright, then he looks like that guy who seduced you that night at Woody’s then had his friend steal your purse while you made out in the bathroom,” Mer says lifting her chin.
Devon looks at me. “Holy hell. He does look like that jerk! Man, could he kiss, though. He did this thing with his tongue…”
She tilts her head as her voice trails off and she smiles up at the ceiling. I rub a hand over my face and wait for the next attack.
“I give up. I know you have a thing against doctors, but this is something else, Dev. You’ve been avoiding him like he’s an airborne STD—”
“Would it still be sexually transmitted if it’s in the air?” I ponder aloud, but they ignore me. I might as well keep sipping my tequila and watch the show. But I’m too curious. “What’s her issue with doctors?”
Devon is giving Meredith the same warning look that she gave me just moments ago. Mer looks down at the ruins of her meal and pushes a few beans to the side of the wrapping.
“Nothing,” she says. “Devon just has some—you know—rules.”
“Doesn’t everyone?” Devon asks.
I shake my head and she looks to Meredith for support. Her expression says fat chance.
“Come on. You might not talk about them, but you have rules. Like no having sex on the first date—”
Meredith laughs. Loudly.
“Fine. Then, no relationships with a friend’s ex.”
I nod. That’s fair.
“Tell me more about these rules,” I say leaning toward her. I’m curious in a way that should trigger an alarm. But apparently my warning system is broken.
Devon shakes her head and presses her lips together.
“It’s not like they are written down somewhere.
It’s just—like—loose guidelines I follow for myself, for work and stuff.
Like grade all tests the day they’re taken.
Keep a master notebook in case a kid misses a day.
Etcetera and so on,” she explains while she studies my face for a reaction. I don’t give her one.
“I’m not talking about your teacher rules. I’m talking about life rules. And they most certainly are written down,” Meredith corrects. Devon’s forehead crinkles as she watches Mer stand up and walk to the kitchen.
“No they aren’t. That would be overkill. It’s not like I’m Moses walking around with his tablet thing.”
There is some rummaging behind me in the kitchen and I turn.
“Rule number 1. No dating doctors,” Meredith reads. She’s holding up what looks like a used cocktail napkin.
Devon puts both hands on the table. “What is that!?”
Meredith smiles. “It’s from that night that Tara took us to the drag bar in NYC and you got pulled up on stage after smoking that—”
“Ok. Ok. I remember,” Devon says, wincing. “Well, I remember the drag bar, but I don’t remember you playing secretary.”
Meredith plops back into her seat, napkin dangling from her fingers. Devon goes to snatch it and Mer lifts it out of reach then lets it flutter into her hand.
“Oh my gosh. These are so embarrassing!” Devon laughs.
Mer nods.
“But it can’t get much worse, right?” she asks and I realize the question is directed at me.
“I don’t think you have anything to be embarrassed about,” I tell her. She tilts her head and studies my face. Her hair spills over her shoulder. She looks back at the napkin and starts to read.
“Rule number two. No smoking unidentified substances.”
That one makes sense. I nod as she continues.
“Rule number three. No sex on the beach.”
Before I can ask why not, Meredith looks my way and puts a hand between her and Devon like a shield then whispers, “She got sand in her yoohoo once.”
“Rule number four. No poppin’ squats.”
“Public urination ticket,” Mer explains.
I’m way out of my league with these two.
“Rule number five. No tequila after midnight.” Devon shakes her head.
“She turns into a gremlin.”
I chuckle.
“Rule number six. No social media.” She looks up at me. “I’m a teacher! A goddamned professional!”
I resist the urge to make a comment about her viral video. Instead, I nod hard so she stops staring at me. I have yet to let her know that I’ve done some light stalking and found her karaoke exploits. 65 million views and at least a million of them were me. I couldn’t get enough of her running man.
“Rule number seven. No dating doc—wait how many times is that on here?” Devon looks over the napkin at Meredith.
“As many times as your stoned ass rambled it. Four maybe, five times.”
Devon blows out a puff of air that sends the napkin onto the floor. We both lean to pick it up at the same time and nearly bonk heads.
“Sorry,” I whisper, so close I can see the way my breath moves a stray wave hanging near her temple. I expect her to make a smartass comment, but she’s staring at my mouth, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth in a way that makes me take in a sharp breath.
The sound of a throat clearing pulls Devon from the trance and she lets her lip pop back into place.
Shit.
“I’m gonna go have a cigarette,” Mer says.
“She doesn’t smoke,” Devon tells me as Meredith heads toward the bedrooms. “Lung surgeon and all that.”
I nod, trying to take my eyes off of her mouth.
“If I’d known your plans had changed, I could have skipped tonight and given you some time with your friends,” I tell her softly. Olive branch extended.
She shakes her head. “It’s fine. This isn’t a custody battle. We can coexist. Besides, you woulda missed all the fun.” She points to the napkin that still lies on the floor between us.
“It is fun. You are fun.”
She narrows her eyes at me, suspicion radiating off of her in waves, but I hold my ground. I refuse to look away. I’m gonna push my luck.
“You know,” I start, “I noticed that your rule specifically said no dating doctors.”
Keep pushing. No whammy. No whammy.
“Yeah. Let’s not have this conversation. I’m feeling too good for a limp down memory lane—”
“No. I’m not asking why. I’m sure you’ll tell me your reasoning when you’re ready,” I say and she swirls her glass and looks down at the tequila cyclone she’s created.
There’s something in the line of her mouth that tells me she might never be ready to tell me.
I forge ahead, “It’s more the wording I’m interested in.
Specifically the verb part of the rule.”
“Mmmhmmm. What’s your point?”
She lifts her glass to her lips and I wait until she has a mouthful of tequila.
“Well, you never said anything about any of the other verbs you might do with a doctor.”
“Like sledding? Or playing tennis?”
I lift a brow.
“Considering my condition,” she points to the boot, “I think those verbs are out.”
“Those weren’t the verbs I had in mind,” I say.
She narrows her eyes at me and takes a sip of her tequila, then swallows slowly before asking, “Are you propositioning me?”
“It’s only fair. Since you started it.”
“I was on—I don’t even know what I was on!” Her voice hits a pitch I’ve never heard before.
“Is that a no then? Should I change the wording on the official document?” I reach for the napkin and she bites her lip. She’s fighting a smile and this somehow makes me feel something. Pride, maybe?
“No need to amend the document,” she says softly. Her eyes widen. She wraps a piece of hair around her finger and goes to cross her legs, but can’t lift her boot off the floor. She gives up with a frustrated growl and crosses her good leg over the bad. I realize my hand is frozen in midair.
“I’ll allow sex with doctors,” she tells me, her voice low. I swallow hard. “Just not with you.”
“Ooof.”
She nods excitedly. “Burn, right?”
Victory shines in the neat line of white teeth gleaming my way.
“That’s a shame because I brought that feather duster.”
Her smile slips into an annoyed frown.
“Meredith!” she yells loudly, keeping her glare trained on me.
Meredith appears, winded, and looks around the room for the emergency.
“What the hell, Dev? Why’d you yell like that?” she asks.
“I just wanted to make sure you were still here to help me hide the body.”
Meredith looks my way and gives me an exasperated shake of her head.
As she makes her way to refill her tequila I hear her murmuring something about getting it out of our systems and inevitability.
But none of it sticks. It all just goes in one ear and bounces off my occupied brain.
Because I’m too busy thinking of more ways to rile up the smirking smartass at the table beside me.