One Wright Stand

1

Annie

On a scale from one to boring, I’d hit my max three days ago.

Logically, I’d known that medical school was going to be a challenge, but the past week of orientation had been so mind-numbingly dull that I could hardly stand it. Eight hours a day, stuck in an auditorium, listening to introductory information, had meant only one thing when it was over—drinks.

“Whoa! Annie, slow down,” Cézanne said. She plucked the beer out of my hand and set it back down on the bar.

“Oh, come on. You were in the same meetings with me all week. You must have been dying for this happy hour.”

Cézanne shook her head, swinging her signature box braids. “Some of us actually enjoy school. That’s why we’re here.”

I grinned at my friend, all tall, slinky grace with dark brown skin that practically glowed in the incandescent overhead lighting. We’d had several chemistry and anatomy classes together in undergrad at Texas Tech. While I’d spent the last year working as a receptionist at a dental office, Cézanne had gotten a Masters in statistics. They’d wanted to fast-track her into the PhD program, but medicine was her true passion.

“I’m not here to enjoy school. I’m here to become a doctor.”

After the last couple of years, that was all I really wanted. Losing two people close to me had made it a necessity. I couldn’t stand on the sidelines as someone died and not come out of it changed. Next time, I wanted to be the person who could do something about it.

“Anyway, let’s talk about more important things,” I said, snatching back my beer and taking another swig. “Like who the hottest guys in our class are.”

Cézanne eyes drifted to the ceiling. “Lord, help me.”

“You’re absolutely right. I should be looking at second years and up.” I grinned at her and tugged my long red hair out of its ponytail. The strands fell in a wave just past the shoulders of my black V-neck T-shirt. I messed with my hair in the camera on my phone, checking my pink lipstick and how clear my freckles were through the sheer layer of my pale foundation. Good enough.

“Can’t you just pick one man and settle down?” Cézanne complained.

“I could, but what would be the fun in that?” I eyed my friend. “It’s not like you’re settled.”

Cézanne shrugged. “I haven’t found the right guy.”

“Sure,” I drawled sarcastically. “Me either.”

Cézanne snorted.

My eyes roamed Walkers, a coffee shop by day and grad school bar by night. The room was already packed for the afternoon happy hour. Honestly, it was a little embarrassing that so many of my classmates were still wearing their white coat inside. We’d gotten it during orientation, marking us as official medical students in training. I’d taken the requisite pictures to post all over social media, but I hadn’t exactly planned to wear it out. They must have thought it was going to help them get laid, or they thought very highly of themselves.

My gaze shifted to the entrance. “Do you see what I see?”

Cézanne nodded next to me. “Uh…yeah. Okay, you win. I don’t know what year he is, but he is right up your alley.”

I laughed but didn’t disagree. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome was definitely my type. At least, if I had a type, he’d be it. His khakis were pressed, and the sleeves of his light-blue button-up shirt were rolled to his elbows. He had on polished leather dress shoes. Not cheap loafers or boat shoes and definitely not cowboy boots, which were always hit or miss in middle-of-nowhere West Texas. He was couth with his gelled dark brown hair and chiseled jaw. He looked more like he’d walked out of a GQ spread than into a dusty bar in Lubbock, Texas.

So what the hell was he doing here?

Despite the sheer number of people in the room at five o’clock in the afternoon, he navigated it with ease. Just as he approached, I swiveled around to face the bar. Cézanne shot me a questioning look and huffed when I winked at her.

“Excuse me,” he said, his voice deep.

I shifted to the side, giving him enough room to wedge himself in front of the bar. “Sorry about that.”

He glanced in my direction. “Why is this place so packed?”

I met his gaze, a shiver running down my spine. Anything I’d thought about him being my type before was completely blown out of the water when I got a good look at that face. Strong lines and high cheekbones and full, almost-pouty lips with eyes the deepest, darkest brown that bored into my very soul.

“I guess no one told you about the med school happy hour?”

“I unfortunately didn’t get that memo.”

“Well, your loss is my gain,” I said with a laugh.

He arched an eyebrow and quirked his lips. “Is that so?”