Compete with a doctor

Minutes later, I was standing behind Zayne with a blanket draped over my body in what looked like a mini bar.

"Who has a bar in their home?" I asked, looking around.

"I do," Zayne chuckled. "What would you like to drink?"

"Anything strong," I replied, taking my seat at the stool.

"At your service, my lady." He gave a dramatic bow and began preparing the drinks. I watched him in awe, captivated by his every movement. Almost like he was an art piece.

Well… he was, in all honesty.

"Your order." He winked and slid the cup toward me.

"Why, thank you." I smiled and took a sip. It was really strong.

Zayne sat beside me, a drink in his own hand. "This takes me back." He twirled the amber liquid in his glass.

"It does." I smiled. Nearly five years ago, we were in a similar situation— just us, at the bar side, talking and laughing.

"I miss it," he said quietly. "The girl who said anything and everything to me without a care in the world."

I blushed, remembering our encounter. "And now?" I asked, knowing his sentence hadn't ended.

"Now… you're guarded. Distant." He confessed.

I didn't say anything. He was right. Over the years, I'd built a wall around myself, one even I couldn't get through.

"Can't we go back to that night?" he asked. "Leave everything aside for a moment. Pretend we're back there, living life like before. Just you and I."

It was a tempting offer. One I couldn't resist.

"I'd love that."

He smiled and tipped his glass toward me.

"I'm Z. Nice to meet you."

I giggled. "L. Nice to meet you as well."

"What brings you here?"

I shrugged. "Hectic day at work."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a singer," I said, leaning in like it was a secret.

"What kind?" he whispered back.

"A country singer."

We burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

"And you?" I asked. "What brings you here?"

"I'm healing from a heartbreak." He clutched his chest dramatically, as if he'd just been shot.

"Who'd be daring enough to break your heart?" I asked, intrigued.

"This girl I met at a bar… just like this." He turned to face me.

I gulped down my drink and nodded. I was going to need another one soon.

"What was she like?" I asked. I didn't know why. Maybe I wasn't ready for the answer— but I asked anyway.

"Smart. Kind. Beautiful. Bubbly… she's an author, you know."

"Really?" I widened my eyes. "What kind of books does she write?"

"Realistic ones. Want to know what her debut novel is called?"

I giggled, the alcohol loosening something in me. "What?"

"Broke, Tired, and Depressed."

I threw my head back in a fit of laughter, forgetting for a second that two toddlers were asleep upstairs. "You kill me," I said, wiping tears from my eyes. My stomach hurt from laughing.

"She's hilarious, isn't she?" he smiled.

"Very." I poured another drink and took a sip. "Do you like her?"

"What do you think?"

I shrugged, acting nonchalant despite the way my heart was pounding. "I don't know."

"I do." He exhaled. "I like her very much. And I wish I'd told her before she walked away that night."

He looked me straight in the eye, and I knew— this wasn't pretend anymore.

I closed my eyes and downed the whole glass. I couldn't go through this conversation sober. Suddenly, the design on the glass looked fascinating and I stared at it, avoiding his gaze.

"Do you think I still have a chance with her?" he asked.

"I— I don't know," I whispered, startled by the sound of my own voice.

He rested his head on his hand and leaned on the table. "I don't think I do."

"Why not?"

He shrugged. "She's married. With kids. To a doctor— the lucky bastard."

I snickered, nearly choking on laughter. "You can't compete with a doctor."

"Exactly! Damn doctors. Can't compete with that." He shook his head solemnly.

The jokes made the air lighter and my shoulders finally dropped.

"I know her." The alcohol was speaking for me now and my brain could barely keep up with what I was saying. "I've spoken to her," I added.

"What did she say?"

"She said she regretted it too… leaving that night."

Before I could register what was happening, I felt a pair of cold lips land on mine with a force that knocked the breath out of me.

I gasped, but the sound disappeared between us. His hands were on my face. Gentle and steady— like he didn't want to let go.

My first instinct was to pull back. Not because I didn't want it. But because I did. So much that it scared me.

But I didn't.

Instead, I stayed there— frozen in the warmth that came after the cold. The kiss softened then slowed. His lips moved against mine with a quiet kind of urgency, like he'd been holding this in far too long. Like he was saying something he didn't know how to say.

And somehow, I heard it.

My fingers found the edge of his jacket and curled into it. He tasted like mint and alcohol. I was sure I did too.

My heart beat steady in my chest. Like it knew exactly what it was doing.

Everything else faded— walls, air, fear. It was just him and me.

Just this.

When he finally pulled back, he didn't move far. His forehead rested against mine and we stayed like that, saying nothing.

I kept my eyes closed. I needed to stay there. Just a few seconds longer. Just until I could breathe again.

Because in that kiss, something shifted.

I knew it.

And so did he.

Then, softly, he whispered, "Still think I can't compete with a doctor?"

Before I could even react, his lips were on mine again.

"It depends," I murmured against his mouth.

"On what?"

But I didn't get a chance to answer— he kissed me again, deeper this time. Like he wanted to make his case without words.

Who could compete with that?