“Look, I really am sorry for losing you at the bon re. I didn’t mean to. I don’t even know how it happened. Freddy started talking to me and you just disappeared. Someone said you were talking to the twins—”
“I was. ?ey introduced me to someone else. I don’t know. I’m not great at being social,” I admit. “Anyway, it all worked out.”
She glances around the break room. Only a few people are there, and no one’s paying attention to us. “So, yeah. Do tell. Porter took you home? And … ?”
“And what?” Crap. So much for avoiding that subject. I can feel my face getting hot, so I busy myself feeling around inside my locker for some nonexistent thing.
“I’m just saying, the two of you are spending an awful lot of time together and asking an awful lot of questions about each other—”
“I haven’t asked any questions.” Have I?
“And you’re giving him an awful lot of looks that say I’d like to jump on you with my mighty roller-derby strength. And he’s giving you looks that say I’d like to surf your waves.”
“You are nutty.”
“Mmm-hmm. Let’s see about that,” she murmurs, and then calls out past my face in a chipper voice, “Afternoon, Porter baby.”
“Hello, ladies.”
My heart rate jumps to a ve on the Richter scale. I attempt to look casual, stay cool as I turn to my right. But there he is, hand braced on my locker door, and whatever self-control I tried to muster just blows away like paper napkins on a windy day.
“You’re still alive, so I guess everything went okay with your dad,” he says.
“No problems whatsoever,” I con rm.
“Good, good. Glad to hear it.”
“Yeah.” Is it just my imagination, or does he smell extra Sex Wax–y today? Did he do that on purpose? Is he trying to seduce me? Or am I just being sensitive? And—what the hell?—is the air-conditioning broken in the break room, because it suddenly feels like the Hotbox up in here. Note to self: Do not think the words “sex” and “wax” while he’s standing in front of you. Ever, ever, ever.
“So, yeah,” he says, sort of smiling to himself while he taps on the top of my locker. “I was just going to tell you, uh, both—tell you both,” he clari es, looking over at Grace. “We got this new lock system … long story, but I have to help install it. So Pangborn and Madison will be dealing with all your Hotbox needs today. You know, in case you wondered where I was.”
“Because we’re always thinking about you,” Grace says sarcastically.
“I know you are, Gracie,” he replies, giving her a wink. He leans a little closer, hanging on my locker, and speaks to me in a lower voice. “So anyway, I was wondering what you’re doing after work.”
Heart. Exploding.
“What’s that?” Grace says.
Porter playfully shoves her head away. “I think I hear someone calling you, Gracie. Is that Cadaver? He said you’re red for listening in on other people’s private conversations.”
“?is is private?” she says. “It looks like a public break room to me, and we were talking before you sauntered up, if you do recall.”
He ignores her and give me an expectant look. “Well?”
“I’m not busy,” I tell him.
“Oh, good. Maybe want to get something to eat later?”
Be cool, Rydell. ?is sounds like it could be a date. “Yeah, why not?”
“Excellent. Umm, so … maybe we should swap numbers. We can leave from here, but, you know, just in case we need to call each other.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.” I notice Grace when I’m digging out my phone. She’s standing next to me with eyes like two full moons. I think she might be temporarily stunned into silence. Which only makes me more nervous. And that’s no good, because I can barely handle the basic exchange of a few single numbers, and I still almost mess that up.
“Okay, well … ,” Porter says, tucking a curly lock of hair behind one ear. How can he be adorable and sexy at the same time? If he doesn’t vacate the break room soon, I might swoon to death. “Go sell some tickets.”
“Go lock some locks,” I tell him.
