"Well played." Val turns to me and squeezes my arm. "Oh, I like him. Ah! Our drinks are here! Bottoms up!"

Everyone reaches for their drinks and raises their glasses expectantly, waiting for me. I have a feeling I'll need a lot of alcohol before the night is over. I'd briefly told Val about Blake, but she doesn't seem to remember this is the Blake, the one I met in the Urgent Care center. If she did, she'd be finding a way to ditch him, but I can't embarrass him in front of his friends like this.

With trembling hands, I take my glass and raise it to my lips. "Cheers."

My voice is weak and tinny, but no one pays attention as I drain the drink. It goes down smooth, working its way through my limbs.

"Happy birthday!"

Other people in the bar shout it as well, clapping and whooping for the girl in the tiara, so I put on my happy face, telling myself I can get through this. Val will probably take me home after an hour, which is a reasonable amount of time for me to pretend to have fun before I can excuse myself.

Val waves, bouncing her curves as she does, and the bartender zooms over faster than he can pour drinks. Her ass shakes, her breasts wiggle, and her shirt rises with her arm, exposing her flat tummy and sparkling belly-button ring. There's not a single person looking anywhere but at her.

With a playful swat, her hand smacks my thonged bottom so loud, it sounds like I'm being abused in a sex dungeon. All three men stare with wide, dilated eyes, the veins in their necks visibly pulsing as one of them loosens their shirt collar. One thing that hasn't changed about straight men in this progressive age is that they're still gonna look, and they'll still be turned on by two women flirting.

Even the bartender's attention has finally landed on me, gawking like he's waiting for us to get drunk enough to put on a show. I don't like it, and I decide this will be my last shot.

"I'll have a tequila, please."

While the bartender pours our drinks, Blake guides me to a stool, helping me climb up. "Have you eaten yet? Alcohol isn't good on an empty stomach."

I shake my head. I don't plan on drinking anything else, but he's right that I should eat.

"Would you like me to order you something?"

His offer is kind. As a doctor, it would be something he concerns himself with. It also shows he's responsible enough not to get me drunk and take advantage of the situation. The problem is, I don't know him; and if he's married, it would be incredibly inappropriate to accept anything from him.

"I can order my own food," I whisper, staring at my folded hands on the bar.

Not taking the hint, Blake slides in the adjacent seat while Val remains firmly planted on my left. Brett and Ajay, more interested in the voluptuous Latina bombshell, scramble to get a seat beside her, with Brett stumbling over his feet.

As the men make fools of themselves and Val giggles, Blake's warm hand closes over mine. His head dips until his mouth is next to my ear, and suddenly, I can't breathe. My heart is beating so fast, it might break another rib. Everything from his touch to his sandalwood cologne has me almost hyperventilating — I'm honestly afraid of the reaction he draws from me.

"Is it too forward to say you've been on my mind lately?"

My eyes close, heat pools between my legs, and I lock my knees together as I perch on the edge of the stool -- my shoulders and spine straighter than a rod. I've been thinking of him too, despite what I saw on Instagram. I can't help it; he's gorgeous. This is the kind of moment I fantasized about, but now that it's here, I don't know what to do with myself.

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