I scribbleDC, tuck the pen behind my ear, and stand up from the booth just as a head of curls similar to Reed’s but with a longer face comes walking out from the kitchen. He’s securing his apron in place, and when he tips his head up, he nods at Reed.
“New employee?” I ask, not having seen him around before.
“Not exactly. That’s my brother, Rex. He’s your typical first born… follows every rule in the great big book ofDon’t Let Your Parents Down. The guy thrives off obedience.”
His description strikes a nerve in me. That’s the person I’ve been for the last nine months of my life, and I hate that version of myself. I refuse to be her anymore. If he’s offering me fun over obedience, then fun it is.
“See you at noon.”
He grins in triumph, tipping even further back and resting the palms of his hands behind his head. “Take your time. I have all day.”
It’s two o’clock before I make it back to Reed’s booth. The lunch rush hit like a tidal wave and left me jogging from table to table to keep up.
“What took you so long?” Reed teases, and I huff out a sigh as I slide into the booth with a fresh glass of Diet Coke.
“I’m exhausted; I’m not sure my feet will ever recover from this job.”
He chuckles as I work my fingertips up and down my shins.
“So, what you’re saying is, you take back your insult to my thongs.”
“What? No.” My face heats. “Don’t call them that. They’re flip flops.”
I ignore his amused grin and stretch my legs out underneath the table. Another deep sigh escapes my lips and then turns into a desperate throat clearing as my calf brushes against his leg. I sit up a little taller. “Sorry.”
Reed’s face grows serious. “There isn’t a world where you need to apologize to me for something like that.”
I feel it again, the warmth of his leg touching mine—no accident this time. Goose bumps erupt like fireworks across my skin. I try to suck in a breath from a room that feels like the air has been vacuum-sealed out of it. We stare at each other, and this feeling of longing stirs deep inside of me. The exact sort of feeling a girl who is leaving at the end of the summer should be running from.Why does it feel so good that I want to chase it instead?
“Go home, Reed,” Mr. Morgan barks, interrupting the spell we had over each other.
Reed and I both jump apart, but his dad continues to hover over the table with his arms folded and his lips pressed in a hard line. Reed glares at him as I slink from the booth.
“It’s my day off, remember?” he argues at the same time I whisper, “I’m so sorry.”
How humiliating to be caught by your boss—who also happens to be the father of the boy you are playing footsie with—abandoning your duties while on the clock. I scamper away to check on the three tables in my zone. One of them is abandoned, the paid tab and fifty-dollar tip left beside the napkin holder.
The whisper-shouting escalates behind me, and I fight to ignore it, but the desire to hear what they’re saying is too strong. I glance over my shoulder and find Mr. Morgan gesturing toward me. I jerk my head back toward the money in my hand and pretend to count.
“You’re really gonna do this to yourself again?” I hear him say. “You were amesslast time. I thought we agreed on a plan.”
My money-clutching hand drops to the tabletop, sending the bills scattering like feathers.
What plan?I want to focus on the part but the voice inside of my head reminds me,ex-boyfriend. He may not know whether I’ve read his text messages, but I know. I was his girlfriend who hurt him, and it feels too late to say I’m sorry. I should never have eavesdropped on their conversation when I knew there was chance I’d hear something I didn’t like.
I swipe the money off the table, stuff it in my pocket, and scramble to the next one in my zone. I need to focus on busying myself or I’ll walk out of here before finishing my tasks. I still need this job. In all the things that have changed since the start of the summer, that much hasn’t.
I refill the waters at table four, drop off the check at table ten, and grab the twenty-dollar tip that was left for me at table fourteen. Three new groups are seated in my area, and it isn’t until I get their food ordered at the kitchen that I glance over at Reed’s table. It’s empty, minus a crinkled napkin beneath his drained glass. Faint blue cursive letters scrawl the edge. I swipe the napkin as I pass by, folding it in half and tucking it in my front apron pocket. When I look up, Rex is watching me, an empty tray resting in his palm and a grin plastering his face.
“Good to see you again, Teddy. Looks like you need a five-minute bathroom break.” His eyes flick to my hand clutching my apron pocket like I’ve trapped a mouse inside.
“Oh, uh,” I start, searching around to see if anyone (Mr. Morgan) noticed.
Amusement dances in Rex’s eyes. “You’re not the one he’s upset with, trust me.”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re telepathic?”
“It’s a gift,” he says with pleasure. “Now go on.”
