My brows knit together out of confusion. “Chemicals?” I question her. As I’m slowly piecing Kricket’s personality together, I remember I’m trying to get a job at this place, and she’s hurting my chances right now.
“Well, we have plenty of seasonings too. I can offer you something to sprinkle over your salad?” Noah continues trying to work with the unworkable.
“No, no, I’m through with my lunch,” Kricket replies. Krow is still moving croutons around on her plate, muttering something to herself.
“Here is my application,” I offer, handing the paper to him. As Noah takes it from my hand, I spot a water glass stain on the bottom.
Always keeping it classy here.
Noah folds up the application and takes a step back. “Well, thank you for dining with us, ladies. I’ll make sure your salad is on the house.”
“You should,” Kricket replies.
“She means to say: thank you,” I counter.God.
Noah glances in my direction and gives me a subtle nod that appears to be a “Don’t worry about it” expression, but I don’t know him well enough to assume. Once he’s out of sight, the girls and I place our napkins on the table and head inside toward the front door.
The urgency of finding a job is stronger now that I know I can’t stay in a villa for long periods with these two. They’re awful. Of course, I’d be stupid to think I will be getting a call back for my application now. The job search I’m going to have to tend to soon will need to be on my own, or I’ll never find a job.
While walking past the hostess podium, I spot Noah again. This time, he’s hovering over the pretty blonde hostess, pointing over her shoulder at a seating chart. He laughs softly, and she sweeps her hair away from her ear in response.
We continue out onto the sidewalk, but I’m still watching the exchange between Noah and the hostess. He places his hand on her shoulder, probably telling her she’s doing an excellent job. She smiles and steals a quick glance in his direction.
That could be me if I get the job here. I think I could be okay with that.
I should be focused on where I’m walking because the ping of my head making contact with a street lamp is the last thing I hear before falling backward.
I’m more mortified than hurt. I’m sure I’ll have a bruise, but in the meantime, I am still lying here on the sidewalk, face up, staring at the freckled clouds in the sky.
“You okay?” Kricket asks. She’s hovering over me with her arms crossed.
I push myself up onto my elbows to sit upright, but the sound of a whooshing door, followed by, “Whoa, are you okay?” acts as a force of gravity, keeping me still.
A hand is on my back, and a voice whispers in my ear, “Lay down for a second to make sure you’re okay.” I’ve been avoiding the scene by keeping my eyes closed, so when I peek out through a squint, I weaken at the sight of Noah James staring down at me. “Lavish, grab some hand towels and ice,” he shouts.
Lavish?
“I’m okay,” I breathe out.
“You have a small split on your forehead. You hit yourself well. What happened?”
Oh, nothing, I was staring at you, wishing I was Lavish. Nothing really.
“I—I’m not sure,” I tell him.
Lavish rushes to my side with a baggy full of ice and napkins. Noah holds the small napkin to my head for a minute, using a slight bit of pressure, which stings. I try not to wince. After a long minute, he removes the napkin and blots up the area before replacing it with the ice. “You should really look where you’re going,” he chuckles. “You’re going to end up knocking yourself out.” Maybe this is what people mean when they say:she fell head over heels for him.
“I don’t usually—” Yes, yes, I do usually walk into things. My head is in the clouds far more often than it should be. I’m supposed to be focused now, though. I need to be a responsible adult, find a job, and not be focusing on hot men. I promised myself I was going to get myself situated before getting mixed up with a distraction. “I’m not usually clumsy.”I’m sure I’m the right fit for your waitressing job, though. I can’t walk on two feet, but I can carry an oversized tray like no one’s business. I swear.
“Sure you’re not,” Noah says with a quick wink.
“We’ll see you back at home,” Kricket says, rolling her eyes from behind Noah’s head. “Drama queen.”
Bitch.
“Are they your friends?” Noah asks.
“No. God, no. They’re my new roommates. It’s working out super—“
