One Wright Stand

“Well, I sure think so.” I stuck my hand out. “I’m Annie.”

He shook my hand with the strength and power of a man who knew what he wanted. “Jordan.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m guessing you’re not a med student.”

“That I’m not.” His eyes drifted around the room. “Is it normal for you to be wearing the jacket in public?”

I chuckled. “No. It’s kind of ridiculous, right?”

“Definitely surprising. I was told this was a good place to get coffee.”

“It is during the day, but after five, it’s primarily a bar.” I gestured to the rows of booths still cluttered with laptops and paperwork. “It’s why all the grad students come here.”

“They still serve coffee after five? It would suck to have driven all the way out here for nothing.”

I shot him a dimpled grin. “Don’t worry about it. I know the bartender. He’s a morning barista. I’m sure he’ll hook you up.” With a heft upward, I leaned over the bar, revealing my ass in all its glory in my favorite frayed jean shorts. “Ken!”

I could feel Jordan’s eyes on me as I flagged down my favorite bartender. Ken waved me off, letting me know he’d seen me, and I hopped back down. My foot caught the bottom of the railing wrong, and my ankle rolled.

“Oof,” I gasped, sliding sideways into the stranger. “Sorry.”

His strong arms held me in place, righting me back onto my feet. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. I always forget about this.” I gently toed the bottom step.

I reluctantly backed out of his arms as Ken appeared before us.

“Hey, Barbie. What can I get you?” Ken asked.

I rolled my eyes. “Coffee for my friend here.”

Jordan leaned in. “I’ll take a latte with a double shot of espresso.”

“You got it.”

“Barbie?” Jordan asked with an arched eyebrow as Ken went for his order.

“Ugh. It’s a stupid nickname that I got in high school. Ken and Barbie.” I shrugged. “It stuck.”

“I would have thought they’d bestow that title on a blonde.” He fingered a loose strand of my dark auburn hair.

“Trust me, it was actually better than being a redhead named Annie.”

He chuckled. “I could see that.”

“Here you go, bro,” Ken said, sliding Jordan’s drink across the bar.

Jordan passed him cash. “Keep the change.”

“You got it.” Ken nodded and then disappeared back into the crowd desperate for more libations.

“Hey,” I said, putting a hand on his forearm. Might as well go for it. He was hot. What did I have to lose? “Maybe you could stay and party with us tonight.”

He shot me another one of those heart-melting smiles. “I wish I could. But unfortunately, I have family obligations.”

“Bummer,” I said, sticking my bottom lip out slightly.

“It is.”

“I think we’ll be here again tomorrow night,” I suggested

“I’ll see if I can get away. Thanks for the coffee and conversation, Annie.”

“Yeah,” I said with a smile. “It was my pleasure.”

Then I watched him walk away. My heart still beat a frantic note in my chest, telling me to run after him. He was too damn gorgeous. I wanted to get to know him. I wanted to know what someone dressed like that was doing in Lubbock. I didn’t know why, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was making a huge mistake.

“Oh, girl, did you get his number?” Cézanne asked, reappearing at precisely the right time.

“Fuck,” I hissed. “I never asked for it.”

“What were you thinking?”

I didn’t know. I hadn’t been thinking in his presence. I’d just…existed in a bubble with him. And I’d wanted it to last longer.

I might never see him again. And I’d totally blown my chance.

2

Annie

Cézanne had kept me out way too late. Or maybe I’d kept her out too late. Either way, the next morning, I was feeling the side effects.

I popped two Tylenol and downed a bottle of Gatorade as I leaned back against the refrigerator. My head was spinning. I wasn’t sure I was even hungover. I might still be drunk. How many shots had I taken? The number eluded me. As did how I’d gotten home.

“Annie, is that you?” my roommate, Jennifer, asked as she entered the kitchen.

“Yep,” I muttered.

Jennifer and I were as opposite as opposite could be. We’d gone to high school together, but while I’d been the head cheerleader, she’d been the quiet, shy yearbook nerd. I’d worn designer clothes while she’d been in hand-me-downs. I cringed now when I thought about how judgmental I’d been then. Because Jennifer Gibson was quite possibly the nicest, most unassuming person I’d ever met.

She never judged me for dicking around or drinking until I was still drunk the next morning. Somehow, she found the whole thing endearing even. And I was grateful that we’d moved in together after reconnecting through our best friend, Sutton Wright.

“Wow. You look…”

“Still drunk,” I offered.

“A bit, yeah,” Jennifer confessed with a wince. “You’re still planning to go to the Wright pool party, right?”