Bone-tired. The phrase described her perfectly. She had work in the morning, after just getting off work, and really shouldn't have agreed to go out. Just one drink, and then she would leave. Her hand smoothed over the tight dress she'd worn a thousand times over at this point and laughed at a story told by Cristina.
Her drink was almost empty. Meredith needed to come up with an excuse to leave. Definitely before her friend started feeding her tequila shots.
The bartender approached, drink in hand that she hadn't ordered, and she fought the urge to roll her eyes. If she had a dollar for each time he had tried to hit on her when came here, she wouldn't have a job to be up for in the morning. He was persistent and pushy, and not her type. Some guys just can't take a simple no. And he really wasn't attractive to her in the slightest, even for a one-night stand.
"Drink from the guy across the bar," he gestured. "Bit of a try hard if you ask me."
"Oh," she frowned before looking up to see who had offered the drink.
Her features smoothed instantly. Now, that was someone she could have a one-night stand with, and maybe even go back for seconds. He would be her excuse to leave. Tell Cristina she would go home with him, have a quick rendezvous, and then hopefully a decent couple hours of sleep.
She studied him a moment, the way his hair seemed so naturally styled. He was slim, but not gangly. Muscled, but not so much that it was repulsive. He was dressed expensive, even if you just looked at the watch on his wrist. But even the detailed, tailored suit that fit him with precision screamed wealthy.
She caught her lip between her teeth as their eyes met, and even from a distance she could distinguish the magnificent shade of crystal blue.
The way he looked back at her; she could tell he was interested. His gaze held hers for a moment longer. She tilted her head to the side as she picked up the drink, smirking to herself as she took a sip. She couldn't deny she loved the attention, who wouldn't?
She broke her gaze from his and turned to Cristina. "That guy over there, I'm going home with him."
Meredith mustered up a familiar air of confidence; back straight, shoulders back.
"Oh?" Cristina laughed, and glanced over at the man herself with a nod. "If you don't, I will."
"I'll text you." Meredith all but managed not to snarl at the suggestive comment. He was hers. For tonight, at least.
She kept hold of her drink as she walked the short distance to where he leant against the bar.
"Thanks for the drink," she paused with the hope he would fill the silence with his name.
"Derek," he told her with a smirk. Arrogance.
"Derek," she repeated, enjoying the taste of his name on her tongue. "Thank you, Derek."
"You're welcome," he paused, likely wanting her name, but she held out.
He gravitated a little closer to her, and she had to restrain from moving closer herself, ignore the sudden temptation to have her body pressed up against his. To have him press her up against a wall, or the bar itself.
"And your name?" He asked, finally.
"Meredith," she breathed, shame crawling in her gut at the heat she felt on her cheeks.
"Pleasure to meet you, Meredith."
Gods, she needed to get out of here with him, and fast.