“Oh, so you’re one ofthose.”
“Okay, now that sounds offensive. One of what?” he asks as he grabs one of my chicken fingers and dips it in a dollop of ketchup.
“Those people from Texas that think they’re from the center of the earth.”
“One could definitely say the same thing about New Yorkers.”
I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t think it’s the same thing.”
“You’re from New York, aren’t you?”
“Yep, Upper West Side born and raised.”
“You come to this part of the city a lot?”
“I don’t live in my old neighborhood anymore. I live about ten minutes from here, and while I think New York is a wonderful town, I can see myself living other places. I’m not tied down to living here indefinitely. There’s so many other places to see.”
When he leans over to steal a fry this time, I watch as his face contorts from what I can only assume is a shooting pain in his shoulder. A broken collarbone is nothing to play with. He shouldn’t even really be in this bar.
“I don’t know how long you’ve had this injury, but the fact that it still hurts tells me it hasn’t been long. You shouldn’t be in this crowded space. What if someone bumps you a little too hard? What if a server spills a drink on you and you suddenly react?”
“I’m getting sicker staying in the house all day.”
“There are other places you could have gone. Places that aren’t so crowded.”
I stand up and walk around to the other side of the table. It’s hard not to notice that he’s staring at my ass the entire time, and I blush because I can only imagine what it looks like in these jeans. Big. Jiggly. Massive. I’m so used to covering it with my long white lab coat everyday I barely remember what it looks like.
The attention is kind of nice, though. It’s been a long time since another man has looked at me like this. Everyone I work with is either old or married, plus when I’m in a relationship I tend to give off unavailable vibes.
“Let me take a quick look,” I say as I approach.
“Yes, ma’m.”
“You can stop it with the ma’ms, ok? I get it. You’re from Texas.”
He chuckles again.
He’s got the greatest laugh.
I conduct a brief examination of his shoulder and am holding my breath the entire time. From this angle I can closely admire his defined jawline, a small clover shaped birthmark behind his ear, and the tip of what I assume is a rather large tattoo that starts at the base of his neck and ends God knows where.
Whew, there are layers to this man’s sexy and lucky is the woman who gets to peel back each layer night after night.
Stay focused, Adrienne.
I bend slightly over to continue my professional inspection of the injured area, as professional that I can possibly be in a crowded bar of drunk New Yorkers. I can feel some swollen tissue around his shoulder and neck, and then I gingerly try to extend his arm.
“From a scale of one to ten, where would you say your pain level is?”
“Will you make the pain go away if I tell you it’s at an eleven?”
I shudder as the warmth of his liquored breath floats inside the cleavage of my t-shirt and settles somewhere below.
“You’re an awful flirt.”
“Only with women who warrant it.”
“You shouldn’t be out in this much pain.” I say, feeling slightly dizzy by his last remark.
