Page 33 of What We Break
Soon, I hope. I'm going out with a friend tonight, but I'm free tomorrow.
Send. Before I can second-guess it.
My phone buzzes almost immediately.
Unknown
Perfect. I'll figure something out. Have fun tonight.
Thanks. Sleep well.
And that's it. No analysis. No games. No trying to guess his intentions. Just a normal, adult text conversation.
So what if my palms are a little sweaty.
I get dressed — jeans and a sweater, nothing fancy — and I'm putting on mascara when Bethany texts that she's downstairs.
"You look good," Bethany says when I climb into the ride-share. "Very... wholesome."
She's wearing a dress that probably costs more than my rent and heels that could be classified as weapons. Travel nursing pays well — really well — especially when you don't have rent and insurance and all the things I'm paying for now. Bethany's got the wardrobe to prove it.
"Thanks?" I buckle my seatbelt. "I think?"
"No, it's cute. Very Oregon-y."
And there's the tone.Not mean. Bethany is never mean, not deliberately anyway. She just has this way of describing my choices that makes them sound like a phase I'll grow out of. Like settling down is a rash that clears up with enough nightlife.
She angles toward me. "So, catch me up. What's been happening in the exciting world of permanent employment?"
"Not much. Work, yoga, sleep. The usual."
"God, that sounds boring."
Six months ago, that comment would have stung. Would have made me wonder if she was right. Tonight it just bounces off, because I know something Bethany doesn't — boring is a luxury. Boring means the ground under your feet is solid enough to stand on. I like this version of boring.
"What about you? How's the temporary gig going?" Even though we're at the same hospital, her shifts are all over the place. And usually, not at night. We don't really cross paths much.
"Fine. You know how it is — same old stuff, different country." She glances at me. "Although there was some crazy festival thing the other night. Did you work that?"
"Yeah, it was insane. We had people convinced they were butterflies and time travelers."
"Right? That time traveling couple were hilarious. Took them until after lunch to come down." Bethany laughs. "These small-town festivals are wild."
The bar is loud and crowded, all exposed brick and Edison bulbs and craft cocktails with names like "Smoke & Mirrors" and "The LastWord." Bethany orders some special with gin and elderflower. I get a beer. We find a high-top table near the window.
"So," Bethany says, leaning in conspiratorially, "have you met anyone interesting yet? Any prospects?"
There it is.
I almost mention Reid. Almost. But I know exactly how that conversation goes — she'll say it's cute that I have a work crush, warn me not to get too attached because I'll probably be moving on soon, and I'll spend the rest of the night defending a choice she doesn't think I'm capable of making.
So I don't mention him.
"I'm focusing on settling in," I say. "Making friends, figuring out the city."
"Laine." Bethany gives me a look. "You've been here three months. You must have noticed if there are any cute guys around."
"There are cute guys everywhere, Beth. Doesn't mean I need to date them all."
