"We should have some sort of protocol in place in case one of us scores a big one." I stir the straw in my glass.
"A big what?" Sophia's brow furrows. "Like a cock? Is there a protocol for that? Does it start with trying to shove your hand down a guy's pants? I saw a girl trying to do that right behind you just now. I swear."
I turn quickly toward the crowded dance floor of the club before I look back at my best friend who is gingerly sipping her vodka and cranberry juice. "You misunderstood, Soph. I meant if one of us finds a guy to hook up with, we should talk about what the other one will do."
"I don't do threesomes, Cadence," she says with a half-smile.
"Hush," I scold her playfully. "You know I'm talking about whether you want me to hang out somewhere else if you take a guy home."
"Seeing how it's your apartment, and it's enormous, I think if we each agree to hide out in our own room if the other has a guest, we're totally good. Your bedroom is so far away from mine, I can't hear a thing that goes on in there." She picks her glass up from the bar before she places it back down without raising it to her lips. "I should slow down. I don't want to drink too much before I've had any fun."
She downed half her drink within minutes after we arrived here at Club Aeon in Times Square. I don't know if it had anything to do with the fact that we were both carded at the door. I'm twenty-four. Sophia's only six months younger than me. Neither of us looks like we're twenty-one. I took it as a compliment, Soph didn't.
She headed straight for the bar, ordered us both the same drink and downed half of hers in one gulp. The only thing that proved to me is that she didn't eat before we arrived. Her eyes started to glaze over almost as soon as she'd placed the glass back on the bar.
"Did you have dinner?" I ask out of curiosity. I worked until eleven and it's now just past midnight. I grabbed a bite at Nova during my shift.
"I made a sandwich for myself this afternoon." She rubs the back of her neck, her fingers stopping to touch the fabric of her dress. "I finished this dress when you were at work. Do you like it?"
It's beautiful. Everything Sophia designs is breathtaking. This one in particular is stunning. It's royal blue with satin straps and a square neckline. "It's gorgeous. This is the one you should show your boss."
She looks over my shoulder at the crowded dance floor. The volume of the music drowns out everything except her voice. We lucked out when the two women who were sitting at these barstools, jumped up to dance just as we approached.
We both like to pace ourselves when we're at a club. We don't rush. We normally have a drink before we hit the dance floor to see who, in the form of an unattached man, is out there waiting.
"I'll show him one day," she murmurs. "You never told me what Tyler said to you about the morning show. He thought you did a great job, didn't he?"
"I haven't talked to him since then." I smile at the bartender, a guy not much older than me with shaggy blonde hair and brown eyes. "He's been busy. I keep to myself mostly at work."
"You outshined him, Den." She glances over her shoulder. "No one even noticed he was there."
I arch both my brows when she turns back around, tilting my head an inch to the right in the direction of the bar. "Pamela, the mushroom cutting, co-host did. I thought she was going to hike up her skirt so Tyler could ram it home during the commercial break."
She laughs as she rests her elbow on the bar. "There is something about a man who can cook. It's probably different for you, but for us average home cooks, Tyler Monroe is the complete package. He's irresistible in more ways than one."
"He's super talented, Soph," I concede. "You're right about that."
"Talented? Have you looked at him?" she asks me, raising her voice above the music which is a notch higher than it was during the last song. "He's insanely good-looking. I'd be surprised if there's another chef in this city as hot as him."
How can I argue that point? I've worked in restaurants in New York City for years. I jumped head first into a job as a sous chef right after high school. I believed in my talent so strongly that I thought I could hurdle over culinary school and slide right into a head chef position.
That didn't happen. Every chef I've worked under has told me the same thing. They were impressed with my natural ability to create unique and flavorful dishes but the restaurant industry is cut-throat. They wanted a degree to show I had the knowledge to back up my skills.
I eventually realized they were right and by the time I was finally accepted into culinary school, I'd already logged more than three years of full-time work in professional kitchens doing everything from prep-work to helping prepare entrees. I kept working part-time when I went to school because I wasn't willing to give up the rush that I get from being in a kitchen.