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.”
