“Tomorrow,” I added, grinning at Alex. “Alex is showing me the ropes. Can’t wait. We’re gonna be the best of friends.”
Cal ran a hand over his forehead, pushing back his obnoxiously great brown hair. “You’re working…here? In this shithole? Why?”
“Shithole? Fuck off, Cal. You’re on the damn stool every day.” Charlie shook his head.
“What?” He shrugged and stepped closer to me, his mouth parted. “It’s true, Charlie.”
“Well, thanks for hiring me, Chuck. I can’t wait to get started. You won’t regret it! And Alex, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I knew it was time for me to go before Charlie changed his mind or Cal tried to talk to me.
I shouldered my bag and walked right to the door, moving around Cal so our bodies wouldn’t touch and breathing the fresh humid air the second I could. It was humid and muggy outside, a little early in the summer. But it was better than the tension inside. If what Charlie said was true and Cal was there all the time, I’d have to deal with that.
Surely it’d be so busy that it wouldn’t matter if he was there. I’d find things to do rather than serve him. The list was alwaysendless. I got about ten steps away from the bar before Cal shouted my name.
Damnit.
“Elle, wait up.”
I walked faster, but I had nothing on his thick muscly thighs that helped him skate like a god. Yes, my crush was half to do with looks and half to do with his talent on the ice. I’d watched my brother the last two years and had fallen in love with Cal’s skating and aggressive play. People who loved what they did and were good at it sparked something in me. Observing him on the ice replicated the feeling of when I wrote.
He caught up to me, gently tugging on my elbow. When I moved my gaze toward where his fingers touched my skin, he dropped his hand and stepped back. “S-sorry, wanted to get your attention.”
“And I attempted to ignore it.”
He frowned again, deep wrinkles on his forehead and around his mouth. The lines showed so easily that it briefly made me sad that he never smiled. I already had crow’s feet at the corners of my eyes, and I was barely twenty-one.
“Are you all moved into your apartment? Do you need any more help?” His deep, gruff voice was two octaves lower than you would think. It reminded me of the old blues music my dad listened to on his vinyl.
If I removed his face and attitude, I could write stories about that voice and the epic love story it sparked.Can it sing?Oh, baby, I bet it could. The voice, not Cal. I separated the two in my head.
“We’re all set, thanks.” I continued walking, hoping he’d get the hint to leave me alone, but he kept pace. “Can you not take a hint? I don’t want to talk to you, so why are you following me?”
“I’m not. I live in the building you do and am heading back. Just happens to be on thesamesidewalk at thesametime. Don’t assume things.”
My temper flared, but remaining quiet was the better move. For me, arguing ended up with me sounding like a fool, eyes watering out of embarrassment or anger. A good comeback would hit me in three days from now, and it’d be a real zinger. But ugh.Menot assume things? From the guy who told me myblondeass didn’t know shit about hockey and chose the easiest major to skate by?Creative writingwas a fast way to unemployment and a joke of a career choice, according to my parents and brother. Everyone, from my teachers to my parents, told me I would never survive off it. That’d I’d be on my parents’ couch in a year. Cal had pushed the sensitive button that kept me up at night, knocking my already thin career confidence. Yeah, the comment was half a year ago, but it had stuck in my head, rooting and growing into a forest of distaste.
He didn’t even realize what he had said or how the words resonated with me. It had been hard to acknowledge a guy I had major respect for and a huge (secret) crush on had been so cruel to me. Avoiding him was for the best, but it might be a challenge at my new job.
He stayed by my side the entire time, not saying another word. We got to the main doors, and he went toward the stairwell while I headed toward our unit. Dani and my brother were hanging on the couch, both looking up at me expectantly.
“Well? Did you get the job?” Dani asked.
Focus on the positive.
“Sure did!”
I smiled and gave two thumbs up.
Gabe frowned. “Atthat bar?The shithole place next door?”
His tone bothered me. “Yes.”
“Elle, you can find a better spot than there.” He scratched the back of his neck. “What would Mom and Dad think?”
My face heated. “It’s not their business.”
Nor was my choice in major. Creative writing was what I wanted, even if it wasn’t as splashy as business or hockey or all the things Gabe did. Our parents never compared us or made me feel less loved, but living in Gabe’s shadow seemed unending.
I adjusted my hair and stood taller. “Iwantto work there. It’s perfect.”Despite Cal being there a lot.
