Moving back to Seattle came with its ups and downs. The positives were being back at the same place you’d been at during Medical School, being close to home, and weekly brunch with your mother, Gia. It was nice to be back home.

There was one constant, though, Mendoza. Fucking Mendoza. She had been halfway through her Residency when you’d moved to Denver to start yours. She did her job, and was good at what she did. They called her Doctor Chop-Shop, a nickname she’d earned through her blunt attitude towards her bedside manner, and desire to cut straight to the point. A bit of a joke, cut.

You weren’t working with her directly most of the time, as she was a surgeon and you were a doctor- most of your cases didn’t require her expertise. Regardless of this, she always seemed to be just finishing her break when you started yours, or passing you in the hall.

In the interest of building relationships with co-workers and taking advantage of heavily discounted drinks, when one of the Residents, a man named Jacob Darsen, mentioned one of the other Attendings, Garett Shaw, was organizing a little get together at a dive bar named Thickies.

You did your hair, and got dressed- wide leg light wash jeans and a tight, grey, V-necked button-up. As you were already fifteen minutes late, as per usual, you opted for lipgloss, mascara, and a prayer as you got into your car.

About an hour after you’d arrived, you made your way to the bar. You didn’t really drink often yourself, but you were placing drink orders for your colleagues. You watched the bartender finish off a drink in a lowball glass with a splash of Bitters and a twist of orange. He slid the drink over to a woman sitting on one of the barstools.

“Thanks, Alex.” Came the voice. You turned towards it, and were greeted with the sight of Gail. She took a sip of her drink, and gave you a once-over. She always looked unimpressed.

“Uh… hey, Mendoza. You hear for the ER Happy Hour?” You asked, feeling awkward. How did you speak to the women who was impressed by nothing, and never laughed? “Nah. I come here all the time. You should get back to your coworkers, Thompson.” She responded, taking another sip of her drink.

“Aw. I was kinda hoping to catch up with you.” You said, smirking lightly. Great. Guess we’re going with coy. What the hell could go wrong? Absolutely everything. But fuck it, right?

She seemed surprised, but hid it well. She hadn’t told you to beat it yet, which was definitely a good sign. She sighed. “Whatcha drinkin’?” She asked, gazing at you. “Oh, nothing. I’ve gotta drive. You?” Were the words that came spilling from your lips. You were t even drink, but you were sure you were making a fool of yourself already.

“An Oaxacan Old Fashioned.” She responded, getting off her barstool and walking to a Pinball machine in the corner. You followed. “Sounds fancy.” You said, watching as she bent over the machine and took a sip. “It tastes expensive.” She replied with a wink.

Was she flirting? You chatted with her aimlessly for a few moments, until the conversation turned. You asked why she had responded like that to you at the Hospital, your first day. “I thought you looked cute. I didn’t need that distraction, still don’t. Kinda wondered what it would be like to kiss you.” She responded, matching your attitude. Fuck, okay.

“You could.” Was the response your dumbass brain came up with. You mentally facepalmed, until she turned to you. “I could? What a treat.” She whispered, bringing her face closed to yours. She pressed her lips to yours. She tasted smoky and sweet. She tried to pull away, but you chased her lips.

It felt a little like a part of yourself would leave with her lips. She pulled back, and took a sip of her drink, licking her lips. “This means nothing.” She mumbled, flushed and a little turned on, as she kissed you again. This was probably a bad idea, and you should probably go back to chatting with your coworkers. But her lips tasted good, and they were cool.