Andie burst out laughing, shaking her head as she picked the clipboard back up.

“Don’t get freaked,” Tracey consoled her, picking up her drink and sitting back in her chair. “Like I said, this is normal. Fantasies are healthy,” she added, her eyes following the guy who was walking past the bar to the men’s room, flashing him a sexy smile.

Andie followed her gaze and rolled her eyes; he was Tracey’s typical type. Good-looking, with enough of a “bad boy” edge to make him mysterious. She looked back to her friend sitting at the bar, twirling her straw in her drink as she smiled to herself, throwing little glances in the direction of the men’s room, no doubt waiting for his reappearance.

Andie would never understand it. Tracey had only one long-term relationship in her life: her college boyfriend, Nate. He was so amazing, in every way, that Andie often found herself feeling a bit jealous of their relationship. He was sweet and attentive, but masculine. He was well read and intelligent, but he was funny and sociable. And so adorable, but yet had this understated sex appeal. After they broke up, Tracey started going for guys who were Nate’s exact opposite. Andie understood what she was doing at first, because what girl would want to date a guy who was exactly like her ex? But it had been a couple of years now, and Tracey had never gone back. She continued to go after the wrong type of guy, time and time again, even though it clearly wasn’t working for her.

A moment later the bathroom door opened, and Tracey’s person of interest for the evening reappeared, his eyes finding hers as he rounded the bar again. He smiled a cocky smile, lifting his chin in greeting as he walked past her. Tracey smiled and bit her lip, holding his gaze before she turned back toward Andie, quirking her brow.

She felt a slight sadness for her friend at that moment, and she wasn’t sure why. After all, who was she to pass judgment after spending the past hour ranting about a man who was not her boyfriend?

Andie continued taking inventory as Tracey finished her drink, the conversation taking on a much lighter tone as she watched her friend shoot “come hither” looks to the mystery man from the bathroom. About ten minutes later, Andie was able to fully devote her attention to the task at hand when said man sauntered up to the bar, flashing Tracey his arrogant smile and effectively ending their conversation.

Tracey and her new friend Dave were the last ones to leave the restaurant, and as Andie gave her friend a hug, she whispered the obligatory gentle warning in her ear, to which Tracey responded with the standard, “Of course I’ll be careful.” It was a dance they had mastered over the years.

One by one, her staff began to leave the restaurant, and Andie lingered, finding things to clean and organize. She didn’t want to go home yet, not while her mind was still spinning. Tracey had promised her that what she was feeling was normal. Just a run-of-the-mill human condition, the desire for something that was immoral. Happens to everyone.

So why didn’t she feel reassured?

About a half hour later, she looked around the bar with a sigh, realizing she had exhausted all reasons for staying. Andie draped the rag she had used to wipe down the bar over the side of the sink as she reached below it to grab her purse.

And then she froze, spying the bottle of Grey Goose.

Before she even consciously decided to do it, Andie was back behind the bar, fishing through the refrigerator compartment and coming out with a lemon wedge. She grabbed the container of sugar, dipping the wedge into the glittery granules until it was coated before placing it gently on a napkin. Then she reached above her and pulled a shot glass down from the shelf.

“What are you doing?” she asked herself quietly as she poured a shot of vodka. With a deep breath, Andie lifted it to her lips. “To the human condition,” she toasted, before tossing her head back and draining it. She flinched, reaching quickly for the lemon and popping it into her mouth, allowing the sugary lemon juice to take the bite out of the shot.

She blew out a slow breath as she tossed the lemon rind into the trash next to her before she closed her eyes, letting the warmth seep from her throat to her stomach and out through her extremities.

She remembered the last time she felt this way, the pleasant heat coursing through her, suddenly intensified by his words.

Will you dance with me?

She opened her eyes, reaching for the bottle again.

To her surprise, the second one went down much smoother, the sugared lemon chaser serving as a treat rather than a necessity.

Andie stood there for a moment, her hands on the bar and her eyes closed. Her body felt warm and loose, and she rolled her neck slowly, relishing the feeling. Her thoughts felt beautifully uncluttered, the guilt that had been on the forefront of her mind for two weeks now floating somewhere in the distance like background noise.

“What the hell,” she said, reaching for the bottle one more time. She hadn’t driven her car to the restaurant that night; it was only a ten-minute walk from her apartment, and finding parking there was usually a nightmare on weekend nights.

She took the third shot, this time not even bothering with the lemon chaser before she cleaned up after herself and placed the bottle back beneath the bar.

The walk home seemed to pass more quickly than it usually did, with the cool air on her skin and the streetlights peppering her path. Andie noticed that the edges of things took on a fuzzy quality, almost like she was walking in a dream, and she caught herself smiling like a fool at absolutely nothing more than once.

She climbed the stairs to her apartment, the dream-like fuzziness increasing somewhat as she reached her door, and she giggled to herself as she stumbled backward a bit when she looked down to get her keys out of her purse. She rummaged through it, gently at first, and then with a touch of panic.

“Shit,” she said, dropping her arms to her sides and letting her head fall back. Of course tonight would be the night she’d leave her keys at the restaurant. Just as she was about to turn back toward the stairwell, she froze, remembering that she had placed her keys on the small table in the entryway as she ran back to her bedroom to grab a hair clip before she left for work.

And she never picked them back up.

She turned back toward her door and fell forward, thumping her forehead on it three times before she finally just left it pressed up against the wood. This was so unlike her. She never did irresponsible things like this. Ever since she had returned from Florida though, it seemed to be a common occurrence; she was scatterbrained, she would daydream at inappropriate times, she couldn’t write a thing to save her life, and she was constantly finding things about Colin that irritated her.

And then, of course, there was the reappearance of the dream.

She opened her eyes and rolled to the side so that her back was pressed up against the door, and she slid down the front of it until she was sitting on the floor. Tracey had a spare key, she remembered, but no sooner than that idea popped into her head, she dismissed it. She knew her friend, and she knew what she was doing right now. There was no way Tracey would answer her call. Nor would Andie want her to.

She rummaged through her purse and pulled out her phone, sending Tracey a text message instead, explaining the situation and asking her to call as soon as she could.

She could call Colin and sleep at his place tonight, she thought. But if she were being honest with herself, she didn’t want to. All she wanted at that moment was to be alone with her thoughts, in her bed, in her house.

She stared down at her phone, her thumbs running over the keypad, and then suddenly, they were moving.