Mina sits across from me, sipping her martini and laughing at my animated retelling.
The place is packed for a Monday, a humming swarm of people trying to leave the workday behind.
“Let me get this straight,” she says, her eyes bright. “Your boss is a smokeshow, and now your paralegal wants to get in your pants?”
I laugh, but my nerves fire with uncertainty.
I shake my head. “I wouldn’t say he wants to get in my pants, Mina. It’s probably all in my head. First day nerves or something. I’m sure I was reading everything all wrong.”
I reach for my drink, anything to cover my vulnerability.
Mina makes a pffft sound.
“Look,” she says, launching into one of her no-nonsense monologues. “You have to stop doubting yourself. You’re a hottie and a total catch. And I’d be willing to bet both of those men are smart enough to see that.” She winks, taking a sip of her drink.
I let out a breathy laugh, bewildered at how sure Mina is about everything.
Our server brings two more martinis, an order of truffle fries, and seared tuna tacos. We dig in, not letting the food stall our conversation for a single second.
“They didn’t even tell me what I’d be doing until today,” I say through a mouthful of fries.
Mina shoots me a look as she swallows her drink.
“I know I should’ve asked, but I just didn’t care,” I admit. “I just had to get out of my old firm. Couldn’t stand the looks or the questions or the…” I trail off, not wanting to bring Pierce into this moment.
“Distractions?” Mina fills in, arching her eyebrow.
“Very funny,” I say, rolling my eyes. I sip the second drink she convinced me I needed and feel it slide over my nerves, coating them in something that feels close to peace.
“Sounds like you traded those for new ones,” Mina says, her voice warm, teasing. Her smile fades slightly as her eyes search mine. “But you seem happier already, Ave.”
I can’t help but smile.
“I am,” I say. “Really.”
Mina flags down a server for more drinks just as a band takes the stage in the back of the bar, readying for their set.
She leans in, her voice a whisper. “That guitar player is kind of hot,” she says, nodding toward the stage. I follow her line of sight.
“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” I say, tension creeping in.
I watch him pick up his guitar before angling my body away from the stage and hiding my face with my hand.
“That’s Nash. The one I was telling you about. From work.”
Her eyes widen, flicking from him to me and back. “The guitar player is Nash? Your Nash?”
I shift, uncomfortable with the possessiveness in her words. “NotmyNash,” I correct, feeling a rush of heat. “But yes, that’s him.”
Mina laughs, loud and musical, catching attention from people around us. “I know I told you not to fuck your boss, and I stand by that, but you should definitely fuck him.”
“Amina Hassan! I’m not fucking anyone. Especially not someone I work with and especially, especially not someone who is under me,” I whisper-yell at her.
“He should be under you, babe,” Mina jests, raising her eyebrows suggestively.
“You know what I mean. I’m technically his superior at work. Really not great optics for me,babe,” I throw back at her. “Come on. I don’t want him to see me. Let’s just get the bill and sneak out of here. I’m not sure I can survive any more awkward interactions today.”
Mina nudges me. “We should at least hear them play,” she says, patient but not backing down. “Come on, Ave. It won’t kill you.”
