We’re standing there, hands still together, eyes still locked on one another’s even after Betty gets up and walks away. The bell over the door chimes and snaps me out of my Andy spell. I quickly pull my hand and eyes away from him and clear my throat.
“Nice to meet you, Andy,” I croak out. My voice sounds nothing like my usual assertive self.
He nods only once as I take a step back from him and his eyes move over my face to my shoulders, then lower… lower… lower.All the way down to my black Chucks. Now back up to my eyes. He still says nothing.
Okay, this should be loads of fun. He might be hot, but is anything going on in that pretty head?
“Um, so has Betty shown you around yet? Have you met Mark? He’s the cook.”
He shakes his head twice. He’s still making eye contact with me, and I start to wonder if he’s challenging me or something.
What’s this guy’s deal? Does he hate me already? He doesn’t even know me.
Whatever. I can’t dwell on this. Just because he’s ridiculously hot and has a face like Liam Hemsworth with perfectly tousled California surfer hair doesn’t mean I have to give a shit. He’s just a person. He puts his pants on one leg at a time, just like I do. Oh, God, now I’m thinking about him with no pants on.
NO! Stop it! He’s just a regular person. Just an ordinary guy. And he’s just like every other guy at your high school. Except there’sno wayhe’s still in high school. Still. Just a guy. Chill.
“Not a talker, huh? Okay, well, this is the bar and that’s the kitchen,” I say pointing at the two places, clearly visible from where we’re standing. “I’ll introduce you to Mark in a minute. He’s great, but you should know he doesn’t make mistakes. So, if a customer complains about something being wrong, it’s your fault. Every time. Even if it isn’t. Mark is never, ever wrong because your tips depend on Mark’s goodwill and willingness to make your food perfectly and quickly, so Markdoesn’t make mistakes. Catch my drift?” I don’t wait for him to respond, figuring he’s just gonna keep staring at me anyway. I walk behind the bar and get one of our regulars, Shelley, who just walked in, her usual cup of coffee.
“I’ll be right back, Shelley. Just showing the new guy around.” She nods, but she’s looking at him, not at me. No,she’s gawking. I can’t blame her. Even at 40-something, she can appreciate a perfect specimen of a man when she sees one.
Stop this! Just. A. Regular. Person.
“Grab that bundle of boxes, please?" I ask him as we walk towards the hallway that leads to the back door. “I want to take these out before we get busy, and I know Betty will just do it herself if she sees them here. No need for a 67-year-old lady to take out the trash when there are a couple of healthy teenagers around to do it, right? Not that I’m assuming you’re a teenager. I’m sure you’re not. Obviously, you’re an adult. I mean, I am too, technically. I just turned eighteen. Not that it matters. Anywayyyyy…” This is going terribly. The last time I felt this nervous was when I had to give a speech in front of the whole school at the last minute because Cameron McCarthy got food poisoning and Principal Bennett somehow thought it would be a good idea for me to do it, even though I had done exactly zero public speaking before that day. It felt like some sort of sick punishment, though I don’t know what I did to deserve it.
I pick up the trash bags Betty left here, and as we walk out the back door, I set an old brick against it, propping it open. As I prepare myself to haul the garbage over the dumpster, a hand catches mine. Andy grabs both garbage bags and tosses them in with seemingly no effort at all. I would have grunted my way through that for sure.
And that’s when it happens. I hear his voice.
“There’s a bit of red in your hair. I thought it was brown when we were inside, but there’s some red in it.”
My. Heart. Stops.
His voice is luscious. It’s velvet. It’s smooth and soft and I might ask him to read the freezer manual later just so I can hear it again.
Please speak again, sweet blonde angel.
His amber eyes are glued to my green ones, yet again. He’s got a crooked smile, and a dimple has the audacity to pop at the very moment he reaches for a lock of my hair on my shoulder.
Am I dead? Is this heaven?
“Th-Thank you.” It comes out of me in a whisper. “For the garbage bags, I mean.” I hate that my voice cracks as I say it.
“No need for a perfectly capable 18-year-old to take out the trash when there’s an equally capable 21-year-old here to do it, right?” And now he’s fully smiling at me. His teeth are perfect with a little gap between the two front ones. His eyes crinkle around the edges. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my entire life. He’s stunning.
“Should we go see what Shelley wants to order?” He asks, taking his hand back and looking away towards the open door.
“Uh-huh.” That is all I manage. I need to snap out of this.
What the hell is happening to me?
We take Shelley’s order, and more people trickle in for lunch. Andy stays close to me the entire afternoon and when I introduce him to customers, he waves his hand and says, “hello” then flashes them all that goddamn million-dollar smile. I swear everyone takes at least five seconds to recover from seeing his perfect dimple appear on his perfect face. Have I mentioned that he's perfect yet?
The rest of the shift goes by quickly. Andy, I’ve realized, is a bit of a gentleman. He reaches for the ketchup on a too-tall shelf when he sees me struggling, carries the heavy trays of drinks for me, and clears all the tables before I can get to them.
At 3:45, the restaurant phone rings, and Betty picks it up. “Oh, hey there, Douglas. You didn’t come in to say hello earlier!” It’s my dad calling. Of course, Betty is giving him shit for not coming in to see her. I wonder why he’s calling here. “Oh, don’tyou worry about it. You stay and fix that sink for Eva. I’ll have Andy, the new kid, drive her home. He’s a sweet boy and I’m sure he won’t mind at all.” She winks at me and Andy. I am paralyzed. Stunned. What is this meddling woman doing? Betty hangs up and explains my dad needs more time with the sink, so Andy will drive me home. She doesn’t even ask. “In fact,” she says, “why don’t you pick her up for the next week, Andy? You’ll be working the same shifts anyway and Douglas has been so busy lately. It’s hard for him to be driving Elaina now that Owen’s deployed.”
“Of course, Mrs. Wilson. I’d be happy to.” He has a genuine smile on his face, like he’s pleased about this awkward turn of events.
