Brain Games

14. Red Flags

Friday rolls around and somehow Ashlee has roped me into going to EBS with her and Patrick after our shift at the hospital. Again. I have a feeling this is going to become a regular thing if Ashlee can help it.

Walking into the busy bar, we snag a booth towards the back. Ashlee and I volunteer to go grab drinks but Patrick protests, not wanting to hold down the table by himself, still apparently scarred from the last time. I volunteer to hold the table, spouting my order off to Ashlee who volunteers to help Patrick with grabbing drinks.

I mindlessly scroll through my phone, skimming Warner's weekly newsletter, when the booth shifts, someone sliding in next to me.

"Sorry, this table is tak—" I trail off, staring at the all too familiar broad frame sitting next to me.

Brad leans over, glancing at my screen. "Seriously? You're reading the newsletter at the bar?"

My lips part in bewilderment, ignoring his jab. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugs, leaning back against the booth, making himself comfortable. "It's Friday night. Everyone has to unwind somehow. Plus, I figured Ashlee dragged you here and you're going to need a ride home."

"I'm not getting drunk."

"I know. But I'm still not letting you walk home late at night by yourself."

I huff in annoyance.

Brad hasn't let me walk home at all this week, except for Wednesday when he was running late with a patient and I ran out of the hospital before he could catch me. Every other night of the week though, he's insisted on giving me a ride home, not taking no for an answer. Hell, one morning when it was pouring down rain I walked out of my apartment to find him parked along the curb, yelling at me to get in. Not wanting to show up to the hospital looking like a drowned rat—because guess who still hasn't bought an umbrella—I reluctantly complied.

Driving into work together that morning was really strange. It felt weirdly intimate and personal—getting involved in each other's routines. But as awkward as it was, it was somewhat... comfortable? I don't know how to explain it. Maybe Brad is starting to rub off on me.

"You're going to have to let me walk home sometime," I state, hoping he'll get the hint to lay off. Hopefully this is just some weird phase and his sudden urge to drive me home every night will go away.

"We'll see," he says, in a tone that sounds uncompromising, not picking up what I'm throwing down.

"Question," Ashlee states, sliding into the booth across from me with her fruity looking cocktail drink. Her eyes shimmer with delight as she takes in Brad sitting next to me. "What first year resident would you not let sleep with your daughter?"

I choke out a surprised laugh at her absurd question. Regardless, I answer anyway. "I don't know. That one guy from dermatology seems like a real douche."

"That's what I said!" Patrick exclaims, sliding in next to Ashlee. He slides my mojito in front of me and I take a sip. "Him and that chick from internal medicine with the scary neck tattoo."

I stifle a laugh, mojito almost shooting out of my nose.

"Are you kidding?" Ashlee objects. "That chick is so badass."

"I think what you meant to say was scary," Patrick says, taking a swig of his beer.

Ashlee gives him an unamused look. "You only think that because she could bench press you in her sleep."

"Exactly."

Ashlee rolls her eyes at her cousin. "So, Brad, who would you pick?"

He carelessly shrugs a shoulder. "I don't know. I haven't really thought about it."