I’ve never been a big drinker. In college when my friends were chugging beer and doing keg stands at frat parties, I’d be the girl nursing the same red plastic cup all night. It didn’t help that all they usually had was beer, which I’ve never developed a taste for. So even though I’ve been sipping the same martini since I arrived, downing the back half of it hits me like I’ve chugged an entire bottle of vodka straight without eating . . . For at least two days. The feeling won’t last long, but it’s discombobulating regardless.

I step through the doors and decide before I jump on the subway I should use one of the nice, swanky bathrooms. I’m not sure my bladder will be able to make the trip home and the walk to my apartment. Only a few people mill around in the open foyer, talking on cell phones. I spot the restroom sign and head in that direction, attempting to maintain poise.

The lighting in this hall is even worse, with only a few accent lamps illuminating the way. It’s kind of creepy. The actual bathroom is lovely, with a couch in the corner and a primping mirror. Some woman with ridiculously high heels, abnormally long legs, and a super short, tight dress is currently taking up residence in front of the mirror with half her purse contents strewn over the counter. She’s also talking on her phone, speaker style. She might be on video chat, actually, based on the way she has her phone propped up.

She pauses for a moment, her gaze shifting to me for a quick glance. I don’t even have half a second to form a polite, potentially fake smile before she pulls a face as if she’s smelling garbage and looks away.

I push through the first door to find a plugged toilet. Holding back a gag I move on to the next one and find it’s clean. Once I’m locked safely in my stall, the modelesque bitchy chick resumes her conversation, as if closing the door somehow makes it impossible for me to hear what she says.

I drape my shawl over the hook, along with my purse, and hike up my skirt, tucking it into the front of my dress to prevent it from getting wet and pull a hover squat. I don’t care how nice these bathrooms are, I don’t want my skin touching the seat if I can avoid it.

“Ugh,” the woman preening moans. “Do you think this dress makes me look fat?”

I make a face at the door and hold in a snort. She’s rail thin.

“You look amazing. I bet you look better than Armstrong’s fiancée. I don’t know why he’s even marrying her. Her family doesn’t have nearly as much money as his.”

“But they’re old money, and you know what that means.”

Her friend makes a disapproving sound. “Still.”

“Her dress is so last year. Anyway, I think my date with Banny is going really well.”

“Now that he’s not doing that soccer thing anymore and he’s taking a role in his family business, he’s definitely more appealing.”

“He played rugby, not soccer, and I totally agree.”

I roll my eyes at their conversation. These girls are the exact reason I rebel against the entire room of people out there and everyone associated with them. So shallow.

“Do you think you’ll get an invite back to his place?” her friend asks.

“I really hope so. That would be ideal, but I don’t know, he’s been sick or something. He’s been taking cold medication all night. Not that it matters. Do you think I should have sex with him if he does invite me back, or should I play it coy? I need another date out of this, so I don’t want to come across as too easy.”

“Maybe just a blow job, then?”

“That’s a good idea.”

“And don’t let him take your clothes off.”

“Of course not. I did send him that picture of me sucking on a lollipop a few minutes ago. You don’t think that was too forward, do you?”

“He used to be a professional athlete, I’m sure he’s used to forward.”

Wow. This is a seriously classy conversation. I finish my business and avoid eye contact as I head for the sink and turn on the water hoping to drown out their conversation.

There are little bottles of lotion, packaged mints, and, ironically, lollipops arranged by the disposable hand towels. I select a grape one, unwrap it, and pop it in my mouth. I also take a package of mints. If I was alone, I might have hocked everything in that little basket.

I drape my shawl over my hand so I don’t have to touch the handle, or anything really.

As I’m passing the men’s room the door swings open and a huge suited-up guy steps out. He’s a tank of a man, his shoulders so broad he has to turn a bit to get through the door. He’s staring at the phone in his hand and nearly walks into me. I have the self-preservation required to attempt to get out of his way, lest he mow me over. But my grace has taken a vacation and I stumble into him instead of away, while simultaneously trying to get the lollipop out of my mouth so I don’t appear completely trashy.

“Hey!” His voice is a low, deep rasp. Like sex dragged over smooth stones.

I grab the lapels of his suit jacket to stop from toppling over and he wraps an arm around my waist, to keep me upright I suppose.

I barely get a glimpse of his face before he’s right in mine. “You’re a bit forward, aren’t you?” His nose brushes my cheek as he speaks, warm breath caressing my lips. Warm breath that smells like booze.

“I don’t think—” My attempt at a protest doesn’t have the desired effect since he takes the parting of my lips as an invitation for his tongue to enter.

The first thing I notice is how much he tastes like scotch. What’s worse is that I can probably name the brand if I think about it hard enough.

He groans into my mouth and his arm tightens around my waist. Obviously this guy’s made a mistake, but as shocked as I am, I have to admit, he’s a great kisser.

Aside from the boozy taste, his lips are full and soft, and he does this sweep thing with his tongue that makes my knees forget their purpose—which is to keep me upright or knee him in the nuts for attacking me with his mouth. All the right parts of my body start to warm and tingle as our tongues dance—that’s right, I said our, because I’m definitely kissing him back, even though I’m not the intended tongue target.

My eyes are wide as a result of the unexpected, although not unwelcome, assault, so I can see his long, pretty lashes resting against his cheek and the straight slope of his nose. I think in addition to being huge, he might also be hot.