𝙓𝙓𝙄𝙄𝙄.
ADDISON AND DEREK
──────
NEW YORK
I HATE SPEED dating.
There's just something so menial about it, the action of sitting there and pretending to be interested in some guy- his little perky pec badge told me that his name was Liam and that he was 29 and liked drawing smiley faces after his name- all while getting slightly buzzed off of cheap alcohol.
There must have been a good thirty or so people in this bar, everyone conversing lightly as the overplayed March 1994 charts drilled a tune into the air.
Liam was the fourteenth out of the fifteen I'd meet tonight; he was reasonably attractive but had this extremely over-zealous feel to him- ever since he'd sat down into his seat, he'd started mansplaining the most pointless things to me.
I stared at him with heavy-eyelids as I stirred my wine with a twist of my wrist. I hummed along to "The Sign" by Ace of Base, wondering when Liam's ten minutes would be up.
Ever so often, I'd glance over towards the co-ordinator: a perky blonde called Linda that kept downing mimosas like they were going out of fashion, all while spinning some pretty basic tunes on a deck.
"So Addison, what do you do for a career?"
Liam had been so absorbed within his own little world that it'd taken him seven minutes to draw the conversation back towards me. I raised my eyebrows, gently placing down my wine glass and tilting my head to the side.
He seemed oblivious to a little incredulous scoff that slipped through my lips as I leant back in my chair.
Oh, and then there was the name...
These places made me feverishly uncomfortable and I'd been pulling names out of my ass every time I came here. Last month I'd been on a Britney kick, in lieu of Britney Spears and last week I'd gone for something more sophisticated.
I doubted that I looked anything like Gwyneth Paltrow, but it seemed to work out. But this time, this evening-- I'd drawn a blank.
I'd grimaced to myself as I'd written out that little tag name, pressing it haphazardly onto my boob, but then chuckled with a slightly maniacal power. If only Addison knew what trouble she was getting up to.
"I'm a student, about to finish my first year of medical school."
"That's cool," He said, "good for you, I went to Stanford, class of '92. Full ride scholarship to study Business."
I took a long drag of my wine. "Wow."
I wasn't exactly sure how to convey my disinterest, that little girl from Connecticut inside of me still felt pretty sorry for everyone that failed at dating.
After all, I'd been at it for nearly eight months and I was still unable to get a second date from anyone. Liam was just narcissistic and just a tiny bit misogynistic (he'd commented on Toni Braxton when Linda spun "Breathe Again" with a very brief but prominent scowl on his face that didn't settle well for me) but he had nice teeth, so that was a positive.
I'd been trying that lately, trying to be more positive about my dating life.
It wasn't working.
Liam was self-conceited but he had a nice shirt. Liam was a little tiny bit creepy but he mentioned that he liked Degrassi. Liam wore a horrendous amount of cologne but...
Yeah, yeah no. I didn't like Liam.
That was a problem. I didn't like Liam and I didn't like Deandre, I didn't like Carl and I didn't like Anthony.
All of the men I'd spoken to I had found flaws in them. Tyler had had too much gel in his hair and Emmanuel had spoken to my breasts throughout the whole of our conversation. I really had to stop wearing low-cut tops to these sort of places.
While Nicholas hadn't even glanced at my boobs and had only spoken about Mariah Carey through the whole of our conversation.
So, through the duration of my evening, all I'd gained was a possible pal to hang out with at a Mimi concert and the beginnings of a migraine.
"Time's up!"
Linda's voice filled the bar and Liam finished whatever little anecdote about his life he'd been rambling on about. Again, I dragged in a mouthful of wine and muttered 'thank god' under my breath, flashing Liam a bright smile as he got to his feet.
"Can all men rotate onto the next table, please!"
To my surprise, he wrote his cellphone number on a napkin and slid it across the table, telling me to call him if I wanted a good time. I pursed my lips, glancing down at the little smiley face he drew after the last digit.
Once he'd moved onto the next table- a provocatively dressed redhead who was just a tiny bit blackout drunk- I discreetly crumpled it up, throwing an eye around for the nearest bin.
Sorry, Liam, it's a no from me.
The next mystery bachelor seemed to take his time to get to my table, so I could that window of time for some self-reflection. I gazed at the crumpled napkin in my hand and frowned lightly, finishing off my wine without a bat of an eyelash.
Was I being picky?
Yes.
I was hopelessly picky-- but something just wasn't right with all of the guys I'd met and flirted with and then half-heartedly hooked up with here and there. They were all missing something that I couldn't quite put my finger on... or maybe I was just picking out flaws in these people for the fun of it.
I unfurled my fist, staring down at the smiley face Liam had drawn; a light sigh slipped through my lips as I lifted my empty glass, stuffing the napkin into the dregs of my cheap wine.
I tapped my nails against the table for a few passing seconds, sending the bar attendant a strained, boxy smile as he passed and whipped Liam's phone number away and for the nearest trash can. He seemed to give me a knowing look in return, having trailed his way through the countless ten-minute blind dates that were playing out around us.
It was only when he left that I glanced over my shoulder, at the next table, seeing Liam and the redhead making out in the middle of the bar. It seemed as though I'd made a good call. At least that was one positive about the night.
"Sorry for the delay..."
I turned around and severely regretted sending off my glass.
A pause passed between us, filled with my audible dry swallow as I found myself caught red-handed. "I Swear" by All-4-One seemed a pretty good icebreaker as the man in front of me seemed to reel with the sight of me, slightly intoxicated and incredibly over this whole shitshow.
Slowly but surely, his lips twitched into a smile, blue eyes blazing and falling on my name badge.
"Addison." He said the name in a way that caused the hairs to rise on the back of my neck. I shifted uncomfortably, rolling my eyes. "I couldn't find the restroom, you see... I've never been here before so... I got lost."
"Hm," I let out a soft sound of indignation, my eyes following over his shoulder towards the restrooms, that were located in plain sight beside the bar and Linda, the co-ordinator.
I rolled my lips together, tempted to just get up and walk away but then I saw his name badge.
"It makes sense, I wouldn't expect a Derek around this part of town."
I'd almost forgotten the way hilarity looked on his face.
I hadn't seen him since New Year's Eve where we'd watched the fireworks and hidden from the wrath of my sister; I'd fallen asleep on the balcony not long after the fireworks had ended, a little squiffy from the sherry and comforted by a perch on Mark's shoulder.
I'd woken up with my companion long gone into the early hours of New Year's Day, a blanket thrown over me and my mascara smudged from a few tears that had got caught in the emotions of a drunk exchange.
He hadn't changed in the last four months.
He was still a heartthrob, still had those blue eyes that twisted and twirled with a knowing sheen as he nursed his drink.
In true Sloan fashion, he was dressed too clean for this place; while Liam had worn a polo shirt and slacks, Mark wore a white shirt with a loose blazer jacket, his shiny dress shoes that I knew he only brought out for special occasions tapping against the floor along with the music.
He garnered a few glances from the other tables- the redhead that was playing tonsil-tennis paused, probably sensing the ace I'd pulled out of my ass in the form of Mark Sloan, a man who oozed silent charm with his every breath.
"You look well."
I snorted lightly. "You must be mistaking me for someone else."
His lips twitched. "Of course, Addison- Sorry, you look familiar to someone I know."
"I could say the same to you."
I wasn't used to intelligent conversation these days, it wasn't like the guys I met at these events were particularly stimulating.
But Mark was witty, he was on the bat and I was floundered in my responses. I paused something which he seemed to recognise. He tilted his head to the side.
"Do you want me to get you something more to drink?"
"No, I'm all sorted, thanks." I'd given the waiter the look as soon as Mark had sat down in front of me.
He nodded, leaning back in his chair, running his fingers through his hair. My eyes dropped to my fingers, my virgin, bare nails that were slightly chipped from where I'd almost cut my own finger off with a scalpel.
For a brief moment, Mark seemed awkward too, his tapping grew estranged. After a few breaths on my part and growing tension, he started talking.
"So, tell me about yourself, Addison, what do you do for a living?"
It was bizarre talking about each other like we didn't know one another, but it was also thrilling in a weird way. My lip quirked at his question and I watched as he gave me a look that bloomed warmth in my chest. I decided to have a little bit of fun with this.
"I'm a psychiatrist."
My reply caused him to laugh, an unfiltered response that warranted a smirk on my part.
It was a bit of surgeon humour- surgeons and psychiatrists didn't get along, it was the laws of nature, just like cats and dogs and Montgomery's and Sloan's.
I might have had prior credit for psychiatry, but I would have been seen dead before I'd ever consider going into psychiatry. It was the ultimate betrayal and I would've never heard the end of it.
What can I say? I'm a comedic genius.
"Hmm, really?" He mused.
"Yeah," I said lightly, my lips quirking up at the corner. "There's something about the thoughts and feelings that really gets my heart racing." There was a pregnant pause as Mark, no, sorry Derek, snorted, easily catching the psychology/biology humour. "What about you, Derek?"
"I'm a dog-trainer."
It was my turn to snort this time.
"Really?"
"Yeah, let's just say I'm a natural when it comes to female dogs."
"I wouldn't be able to tell by just looking at you."
He rolled his eyes but smiled all the same, leaning back in his chair and interlacing his fingers; my eyes dipped momentarily, following this movement, and when I looked upwards, I was struck by how vibrantly his eyes blazed when he gazed at me.
It was then that I ordered my second drink of the night.
"What about your interests?"
He seemed to be extremely conversational tonight and I only slightly hid my surprise and suspicion. Mark was never into actually talking, he was into other things that involved things other than communication. But, here he was, smiling over his scotch and inviting me to continue with my faux little personality that I'd built for these events.
"What do you do in your spare time, Addison?"
"I like extreme sports and model trains," I deadpanned. Again, he couldn't hide his chuckle. "And you, Derek?"
"Personally, I can't say no to an episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S, Addison."
I hummed lightly. "Interesting, Derek."
"Very, Addison."
In my head, the Addison at this dating event was a high-functioning socialite that had her shit together, much like my sister.
But, she was also on an unsuccessful quest to discover true love, speckled with suitors that would sweep her off of her feet and would go to any means, even sleazy bars to meet sleazy men...
Or maybe I'd just watched Sleepless in Seattle too many times.
I wondered what other people expected when they came here... to be honest I was being to wonder what I was expecting. I'd been here enough to be recognised by the staff- as the waiter dropped off my drink, she noted my name change and shot me a discreet but amused look.
I was beginning to wonder whether I was the saddest person to ever set foot in this stupid bar... Although..
I shot a look at Liam, the guy from before that was gazing at me, even as his companion attempted to massage his intestines with her tongue.
Okay, maybe I wasn't the saddest.
"So, Addison."
I averted my attention back to the issue at hand, a tall and dashing one that was eating up all my spare time.
He had his hands folded in front of him, his elbows cocked outwards and an obscene glint in his eye.
"What's your plans for this evening?"
Oh, a curveball. What were my plans for this evening?
My plans for the evening were to go home alone like every other night. I'd probably run myself a bath, use enough bath salts to make me possibly very high off of fumes and then probably finish some school work.
But Mark didn't really need to know that.
I looked back at Mark and saw the slightly distracted look in his eye, something that made my eyes flicker to the clock and beg for our time to be up before he said something stupid. It seemed as though my loyalty to this bar paid off-- by the time Mark was about to open his mouth to speak, Linda piped up, signalling the end of the whole dating event.
"And time's up!"
The timing was impeccable. Mark's face fell visibly and I got to my feet, knowing that the event ended at 10pm, and the clock over his shoulder proclaimed my saving grace as I took my glass and drained it all in one go.
When I glanced back at Mark, he was watching my behaviour, slightly baffled by the ease of me finishing my wine so swiftly.
Ah yeah, I'd gotten better with my alcohol than the last time I'd seen him.
"Beth-"
"You should've hurried your ass up in the restroom," I rolled my eyes at him.
I got to my feet, squeezing my eyes tightly closed as the alcohol rushed to my head a bit. But I prevailed, stepping back and shoving my chair into the table. Quickly, I tossed a tip to my the waiter that I was beginning to be on pretty good terms with- he flashed me a grin that was all pearly whites.
By the time I was ready to manoeuvre towards the door, Mark was all ready.
Much to my dismay, he had shrugged on his coat and left his own tip, a crumpled ten dollar bill that the waiter snagged up as soon as we'd stood.
"What are you doing?" I asked pointedly as Mark fell into pace with me.
He shot me a glance, lips upturned into a smirk, holding the door open for me.
"There's a guy over their undressing you with his eyes."
His tone was suspiciously tight and he jerked his head behind us. I followed his gaze, sighing when I noticed that it was the guy from before, Liam, who seemed to be more interested in me now than he had been when he'd been sat in front of me.
"Do you want me to help-"
I let out a light breath. "I think I'll be alright."
Maybe that was the downside of going to events like this. This was a bar with a pretty good reputation as far as Manhattan nightlife went, but I'd quickly discovered that dating events liked to draw out the creeps.
Liam, although he was a Stanford graduate and- according to him- completely respectable and established in his field (which was selling luxury hatchbacks, by the way) was slowly morphing into the type of man that I'd have nightmares about.
He just stared at me, grossly from afar, as if he was thinking something not very respectable or established at all.
What the fuck did they do to guys at Stanford?
"You took the subway, right?" Mark knew me all too well. I exhaled loudly as we exited out onto the street. This wasn't exactly how I envisioned my night going. Reluctantly, I nodded. "At least let me drive you home?"
"But I barely even know you, Derek." I stated loudly.
Mark rolled his eyes, he picked at the name tag and crumpled it up in his palm, ending my games.
"I won't do anything, I promise."
Fuck knows how or why I believed him.
I seemed to just meet his eyes and something clicked in my brain. Maybe it was the fact that I knew that Derek- the real Derek- would tag team with my brother and kick his ass if anything happened to me.
Or maybe it was the way his tone appeared soft and delicate on the slightly chilled nighttime air.
It made me feel all warm inside.
Begrudgingly, I followed him.
He had a nice car, parked a few streets down from the bar. He'd paid for parking, typical. The flash of the headlights when he unlocked the vehicle was honestly welcome. I didn't mind public transport for the most part, but there was always something about travelling through Manhattan at night that seriously creeped me out.
I crawled into the seat, kicking off my heels as I did so, the whole movement choreographed to the sound of Mark chuckling lightly. The plastic surgeon was already belted up by the time I'd made myself comfortable.
Between the closing of my door and me manoeuvring myself upright, Mark had everything ready to go.
Engine on. Foot down on the accelerator.
The radio spilled another big track of 1994, Boyz to Men, I'll Make Love to You.
I sighed loudly out of my nose and turned my head towards the window. This was going to be awkward.
I looked over towards Mark as the street-lamps began to lightly wash over his face, and finally vocalised the one thought that had nagged me since he'd sat down at my table.
It was the most obvious question of the evening: "Why did you come tonight?"
It was a simple question, but from the response, Mark gave you would've thought that I'd just asked him the meaning of life.
He was noticeably slower in his answer, suddenly the witty, on the ball, persona faded back into what I established quickly was a carefully planned answer. I glanced over at him a few times, but his face completely stoic. His eyes did not move from the road in front of us.
"I wanted a drink and this was one of the first bars I came to."
His answer didn't satisfy me.
"Really?" I asked, quirking an eyebrow. Mark hummed lightly but indifferently. "Mark Sloan walked into a speed dating event just by chance? You're driving me home, you didn't even drink. You need to get more creative than that."
"I did." He insisted, this time shooting me a brief look as we fell into the natural traffic of downtown Manhattan. If he was trying to sell himself, he wasn't doing a very good job. "It was a recommendation."
"Really?" I repeated.
"Really."
"I don't believe you."
He didn't reply, seemingly consumed by the concentration needed on the busy New York streets, even this late at night. However, I saw the bridge of his nose constrict in the glow of the streetlights as he inhaled sharply.
A pause. "Fine," Mark shrugged, an action that alluded to a coming-clean moment. "I was in the middle for a a flirt, are you really that surprised?"
I wasn't and Mark knew I wasn't. But even so, there was something off about the way Mark moved about in his seat at a red light, avoiding my eye.
I smirked to myself, leaning my head back against the base of my headrest.
"Who recommended the bar to you?"
It was my turn to be calculated. I was playing science with this conversation- I had a hypothesis, an inkling and this was my method to get to my conclusion.
As Mark glanced in his rearview mirror, visibly hesitating before his answer, I knew that I was going in the right direction.
"Amelia."
"Interesting."
She'd recommended it to me too. Apparently, it was one of her favourites (although when I'd questioned her about why I never saw her there, she'd talked about Linda's dating evening in disgust).
"When did she recommend it to you?"
"I don't know," Another shrug, eyebrows drawing down his forehead to hover tight over his electric eyes. "A few weeks ago, I don't know?"
Amy was one of the only people who knew that I went to these sort of things. The other one was Archer, whom I'd told in confidentiality.
"And who told you that I come here every week?"
We rolled to a stop in traffic again.
Once again, Mark acted as though I'd just asked him for the answer to any inconceivable question in the world. A pair of guilty eyes glanced over at me, then flickered back to the road as he mulled over his answer.
"Derek."
"I knew it." I rolled my eyes but inwardly I was cursing Amy's loose lips. I wasn't surprised to hear that she'd spilt my little hobby to her brother, I suppose that I'd been almost waiting for it to happen. With a sigh, I turned to face Mark in my seat. "So, did Derek bribe you to come to check up on me or something?"
Pause. "Not quite-"
"That bastard." Mark's eyebrows rose at my tone. "I'm an adult, I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself. He's not even my brother- my own brother knows exactly where I am— and he's fine with it."
"Sure, you seemed fine with that guy." The man beside me commented idly, making me really wish he wasn't beside me at all. "He seemed like a douche."
"I'm used to creeps, unfortunately," was my reply, eyes narrowing on Mark's quick glance in my direction. "Y'know- like guys turning up at dating events to drive a girl home."
He frowned. "I'm not creepy."
I ignored him. "Liam wasn't the worst. You're completely blowing this out of proportion. The issue here isn't the guys I meet at these events—"
Actually, the issue in my life was the lack of guys that I met at the bar every Thursday, but I wouldn't dare mention that to Mark.
"It's the fact that your little romantic love crusade isn't going to plan, right?" Mark didn't have to put it that way, but he did. It was true and it made me feel awfully crappy about myself. Not to mention foolish. I didn't want to reply, but I did.
"He didn't bribe you, did he?" I kept my face in the direction of the window. "You just wanted to see the disaster in real life, right? Turn up and watch my love life crumble and burn."
From the faint reflection in the window, I saw Mark's lip quirk into a smile.
I'd gotten the feeling that there was a sort of unresolved thing between the two of us ever since I'd rejected him or broken up with him (I couldn't quite break up something that hadn't existed in the first place, but I wasn't sure of an alternative term.)
"Amy brought it up," Mark admitted as if it wasn't the same thing that had driven me utterly insane for the past near year. I was more stressed out over my personal life than I was over medical school. It was getting pretty bad. "She might've mentioned that your goal to get into a Calum-esque relationship wasn't going to plan."
"Who did she mention this to?" I frowned, wondering whether my failing love life was just something that happened to pop up at one of the Shepherd-Sloan family dinners that Derek liked to host.
"Uh- just me."
I actually held my head in my hands. God, this was embarrassing. Of course, Amelia had put me in a situation like this.
She was awfully against traditional relationships. That was probably why she hated speed dating so much. Monogamy to her was like a little urban myth or a creepypasta like The Rake or Slender-Man. Cool to know but utterly terrifying when you really think about it.
She'd been hounding about giving up for forever- "Didn't Mark literally offer you sex with no strings? And you gave it up for this bullshit- what the hell?!". I had a sneaky suspicion that she was trying to manipulate something all from afar.
So here I was, with my pride at an all-time low listening as the impassioned monologue about fidelity, my future and Nicholas Sparks all went flushing down the drain.
"I bet you love this, huh?" My voice was nothing but a bottomless pit of loathing. "You probably feel pretty good about yourself."
A look flashed across Mark's face, he chuckled lowly. "It is a pretty sweet sight- the great Elizabeth Montgomery is wrong about something. It's pretty rare."
My throat was awfully dry. Uncomfortable swallows made my eyes water; my legs moved awkwardly and I tapped my fingers against my seat, willing the journey to go faster.
Mark, on the other hand, looked perfectly at ease, occasionally shooting me glances as I tried to think of a response to what he'd just said.
"What am I wrong about, exactly?"
My pride was pretty battered but still seemed to perk up enough to challenge Mark's statement. A glance in his direction was enough for my stomach to drop.
"About what you want."
"What do you mean?"
"You want a relationship, right? Or wanted?"
My mouth felt like the Sahara desert. "Uh-huh."
"You're wrong."
"Excuse me?"
We were a few blocks away from my apartment and I honestly had never been so eager to exit a conversation. Half of my whole being wanted to just exit the vehicle and walk the rest of the way. The other half was petrified to the seat by the way a devious smirk unfurled across Marks's face.
"If you had wanted a relationship, you would've taken one. You've had plenty of chances." Mark swivelled in his seat, the car stopped at a red light just in front of a major junction. I leant away from him, my eyes wary as he seemed to speak to my soul. "I saw how you spoke to some of those guys- the one before that Liam guy was literally ready to elope and buy a house with you with a fucking white picket fence. You had the poor guy by the balls and you shut him down."
I knew who he was talking about- Thomas had been nice. He was Australian, asked me extensively about my own career, talked a bit about soccer and his career as a writer for the New York Times. He'd asked me for his number and I'd given him the number for the local pizza restaurant.
Mark managed to make me feel bad. Very, very bad about myself.
I avoided his gaze. "Oh, so you're watching me now?"
"You're not getting it, are you?" He had to turn back to the road as the light turned green, but his head shook with amusement at my stubbornness. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, you just don't want to admit that you're wrong."
"I'm not wrong." I scoffed.
"Really?"
"I-I just can't find the right guy."
"Can't find, or won't find?"
Who the fuck made Mark Sloan so philosophical? My cheeks burned at his words and I very seriously considered just throwing myself out of a moving vehicle in the middle of Manhattan traffic.
"I know what I want."
"Do you?" He was actually amused. What an asshole. "Do you really?"
I knew exactly what I wanted.
I wanted Calum. I wanted the relationship that I would never have. My standards were so high because I just looked for Calum's good parts in every guy I met.
Thomas had been sweet, but his career didn't square up against a prosecutor who had been in the District Attorney's office. Even Liam had had his vaguely positive parts— but that was nothing compared to the fact that Calum had been so perfect to me.
I didn't want a relationship. I wanted that relationship.
"I know what I want."
"Tell me what you want, Little Montgomery." He was challenging me. He seemed to smile to himself as I ran my fingers through my hair and sigh softly.
"I want to just find one decent guy." I really, really wanted to find that one needle in a haystack. Not a Liam, not a Gareth- not a Thomas. Maybe not even a Calum. "I want to find a guy, not a relationship. Just a person that I can get along with better than anyone else."
A pregnant pause filled the car. We'd arrived at my destination.
I went to open the door but Mark briefly grasped my wrist. I turned back to look at him.
"Maybe he's ready and waiting for you," His touch gave me goosebumps. "And maybe you know that already."