Best friend's Baby Sister [END]

BFBS : 4

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Chapter 3
REBECCA

The air leaves my lungs and I'm left standing there, watching Freen walk up ahead of me. What the hell? Did I say something wrong? One minute we were talking, feeling like the old friends we should be, and the next she's acting like she can't get away from me fast enough.

It doesn't matter. More importantly, it shouldn't matter.

She stops at the employee door, needing me to punch in a code to unlock it. I fold the scrubs over my arm, careful not to press them against my wet dress, and take a spot next to her to enter the code. She doesn't look at me, doesn't say a damn thing. The tension rolls off her in waves, and as nice as our chat was a minute ago, I cannot wait to get back into the bar and away from her.

That's how Freen Sarocha has been since the moment I met her. Closed off. Guarded. Letting the walls inch down just enough for me to get a glimpse of the person inside only to bring them up again.

A little green light flashes after I punch in the four-digit code and Freen opens the door for me. I step in first, shivering almost immediately from the cold air blowing down on us from the vent above.

"Thanks again," I say and turn to her. The door clicks shut and I shuffle forward. "For the scrubs. I'll get them back to you tomorrow. How long are you in town?"

"Until Sunday."

"Me too. I'll, uh, see you again I'm sure."

"I'll be at your parents' house tomorrow for the engagement party."

"Oh, right." I fiddle with a strand of hair, heart beating rapidly in my chest. Freen shifts her weight, lips parting as if she wants to say something. Our eyes meet for a brief moment before she blinks and turns her head, bringing her hand up to her jaw.

"I'm gonna go change now," I blurt, needing to say something. It's getting awkward just standing here.

"Yeah, good idea." She nods and steps forward, following me out of the back hall and going back into the bar. She goes in the opposite direction, back to Heng and company, and I go into the bathroom. I do the best I can to rinse my skin, sticky from the margarita, and change into the scrubs.

Freen was right: they are big. Knowing I look ridiculous in oversized scrubs and heels, I fold my dress and exit the bathroom.

"I don't get it."

I turn, following the male voice I assume is directed to me. It's that guy Nick from the bar, the one in the fancy suit with the expensive watch. He pushes off the wall, drink in his hand, and flashes that same super-bright white smile my way.

"Are you trying to be a sexy nurse? Because if you are, I suggest something with a little less coverage."

I blink. Is that supposed to be a compliment? "I'm not trying to be a sexy nurse."

"Then please explain your ensemble. Because I don't get it."

Is he that drunk or is he for real? "You don't have to get it. It's what I'm wearing so..." I bring up my shoulders in a shrug. He continues to stare at me, a smug smile on his lips. I shake my head and turn to walk away. He says something else and I pretend I don't hear it. I go right to the bar again to get a bag for my wet dress and get my glass of vodka-soaked cherries that I stashed in the mini fridge under the counter.

"I heard what happened." Gulf looks over his shoulder as he fills a tall glass with beer from the tap. "Way to go, butterfingers."

I make a face. "Someone bumped into me. Hard. It would have happened to you too."