Take Two

Chapter 2

-xx-

"My round," Whitney announced as she stood from the table. The group had spread out to two different tables. Trevor and Penelope had made quick friends and were waiting for their next turn at karaoke.

The blonde grabbed as many empty glasses and bottles as she could carry before stepping away from the table in search of the ordering station at the bar. In the two hours since they arrived, the capacity at least doubled, but most people were scattered around at tables, leaving several seats open at the bar.

Whitney adjusted what was in her arms as she slid the glasses on to the bar top and slowly pushed them towards the bartender's side.

She slid her hand into her back pocket and pulled out the cash that was in there. With a sigh, she counted out several single dollar bills. Just as she was about to turn to head back towards the table to grab her wallet, she almost collided with Derek as he stepped towards the bar. "I've got this one," he assured her.

Whitney narrowed her eyes as she slid on to the bar stool closest to the ordering station. Instead of stepping up to order, Derek took a seat next to her. She had to shake her head at the smile crossing his lips. "Thank you," she offered quietly.

He nodded and winked in her direction as the female bartender came over to the pair. "Two beers, please," he ordered. The bartender nodded; Whitney watched out of the corner of her eye as Derek tore his attention from the bartender and focused back on her. She rolled her eyes; the bartender barely hid anything behind the scraps of clothing she was wearing. She had to admit, she was shocked that Derek even turned from her.

"We need drinks for the rest of the table," Whitney added.

Derek glanced back towards their tables and shrugged. "Nah," he answered. "Every one looks pretty full."

Whitney shot a glance over her shoulder and could see Emily take the last sip of her glass of wine. "Are you sure?" she asked with her eyebrow raised. "It doesn't look that way to me."

Derek placed a hand to the back of her chair and turned her to face the bar where two full beers sat. "Looks full to me," he said with a smirk.

"So you're leaving them to fend for themselves?" Whitney asked with a smirk of her own.

He nodded as he lifted his beer bottle and held it towards her to cheers with him. "They're all adults. They can handle themselves."

Whitney narrowed her eyes in his direction, but clinked her bottle against the neck of his. "Thank you," she muttered before taking a sip.

"You're welcome," he answered. "So tell me more about yourself, Whitney."

She chuckled at the way he phrased it. "What do you want to know?" she replied.

"Where are you from?" he questioned as he cradled his beer bottle. "'Cause you are definitely not a Virginia girl."

She chuckled at his perception. "You're right," she led on. "I'm originally from Boston, but I spent the last sixteen years in Los Angeles."

She focused on the label of her beer bottle, trying her best not to turn towards Derek. Her short nails tore at the paper as she licked her lips. "Why the change? LA for here?"

A slight smirk took over her face. "It's not that ideal," she muttered. She retracted her hand from the bottle and instinctively ran her right hand over her left, focusing on her ring finger. "The people specifically."

Derek smirked before taking a sip from his own bottle. "There are shitty people everywhere, Whitney," he replied.

She shrugged. "I guess that's true," she agreed. "I see quite a few of them come through the ER, too."

Derek nodded. "I've seen my fair share in the field," he agreed. "So what made you pack up and leave sunny California?"

"Ah," Whitney said as she lifted her bottle to her lips. "There's not enough in here," she said as she gestured to the bottle in her hand, "to get me to spill my guts tonight."

"Bartender," he called with a wink in Whitney's direction. "Two shots," he ordered as the busty blonde stepped in front of them.

"Whiskey," Whitney asked with a smirk.

Derek tore his gaze from the bartender to lift an eyebrow towards Whitney. She shrugged as she sat back in her barstool. Derek nodded as the bartender took off to retrieve the liquor in question. "You are not like every other woman," he mused. Again, the blonde shrugged.

Her lips curled up into a grin. "You have no idea, Derek," she said lifting the shot glass that was laid down in front of her.

Derek picked up his own glass and the two downed the shots. Whitney grinned as she placed the empty shot glass back to the bar top.

"What about you, Playboy," Whitney asked as she turned towards the black man. "Are you originally from lovely Virginia?"

"Virginia is for lovers," he replied with a wink, and was unable to keep a straight face at his own lame joke. "But no, I'm not. Born and bred in Chicago."

Whitney took a sip of her beer to chase the whiskey. "A Chicago boy," she muttered, a smirk dancing across her lips. "Dangerous."

"I'm harmless," he promised. Whitney could not contain her laughter. "Is that so hard to believe?"

The blonde nodded. "One hundred percent," she bartered. "I've seen the way you've been looking at the bartender. There is nothing harmless in those eyes."

Derek pursed his lips together before sitting back in his own seat. "That's where you're wrong." She lifted an eyebrow to challenge him to continue. "I'm not interested in the bartender at all."

Whitney licked her lips before shaking her head at the realization of Derek's words. "Likely story," she said with an eye roll. She grabbed her beer and took another sip.

"There's only one blonde over here that is keeping my attention," he continued as he grabbed his own bottle. "And she doesn't have to show everything off like the one behind the bar."

Whitney subconsciously pulled at the hem of her t-shirt; it wasn't what she would normally wear out for drinks with co-workers, but the heathered maroon t-shirt and jeans were comfortable after twelve hours in scrubs.

She fought to not turn around when she could hear Eliot calling her name from their table. "What's the deal there," Derek asked bluntly. "He hasn't stopped checking in on you since we came over here."

"Do you think there's something going on with Eliot and me?" she asked with a raised brow. The blonde tried her best to keep a straight face as she ran her finger across the top of her beer bottle. "I think you're more his type."

Derek had to chuckle at her answer. "So he's just being protective, then?"

Whitney shrugged. "Does he need a reason to be protective," she questioned back.

"I told you," he said softly as he leant closer to her ear. "I'm harmless."

-xx-