Wade leans against the bar, the wood pressing into his side. Zoe’s laughing, her head tipped back a little and those shiny whites on display, and he’s had just about enough of that. Dr. Zoe Hart and her short shorts and that hair that’s just begging for his fingers to curl into it and that stupid adorable way she has of bouncing on the balls of her feet when she’s excited—he’s had enough of all of it.
“Zoe,” he says, letting her name drip off of his tongue all honey and sugar, and her eyes are a little bright when she looks up at him. She’s only had one drink, but he’s not about to trust his luck—it’s probably the alcohol that has her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright as all get out.
“Why Wade,” she says, grinning up at him, and next to her Lavon’s grinning too, but Wade quite nobly doesn’t give in to the very great urge to tackle him to the floor for that stupid knowing look. “Look at you, all dressed up. Hot date?”
And when she just lobs it up for him, how’s a guy supposed to resist? But Lavon is smirking and Wade is not about to ruin this round, too. Not again.
So he doesn’t lean down and in and close and say, you offerin’? like he wants to.
Instead, he leans in and takes her hand in his—and lookit the way her eyes go gratifyingly wide at that!—-and clears his throat and says, “Zoe, I’d be much obliged if you’d consider accompanying me out some night.” Her tongue darts out and wets her lips, but she doesn’t remove her hand from his.
“Just to be clear,” she says, “you’re asking me out on a date?”
“Yes,” he says.
“An actual date?” she continues. “No hidden agenda? This isn't some elaborate attempt at a booty call?”
“I’ll make you dinner myself,” he says, raising an eyebrow at her in what he has to admit is a bit of a dare. She’s grinning now, though, almost despite herself.
“Well aren’t you just a gentleman?” she says, and then she twists her hand and pulls herself up to her feet courtesy of his weight for balance. He keeps his footing. Just.
“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” he says, putting his free hand to his chest and doing his best to look mortally wounded. This time when she smiles, it’s a little softer and more affectionate and nervous than he was expecting. She leans in and kisses his cheek, and he just about stops himself from shying away out of shock.
“Pick me up at eight,” she says, her thumb sliding along the back of his hand, and then she’s stepping back and away and glancing over her shoulder at him as she darts out the door.
Lavon starts slow-clapping, which brings Wade back to himself and makes him realize he’s still standing in the middle of the floor like an idiot, so he rubs a hand across his face to hide his grin and gets going before Lavon can ruin his mood with too much teasing.
“I’m proud of you!” Lavon calls as Wade ducks back behind the bar. Wade flips him off affectionately.