Page 8

I flashed him a grin. “I’ll be quick.”

He let out a slightly nervous laugh and beelined for the door. I sped through the checklist, realizing quickly that Ricky had done a great job. Everything was washed up and put away in its rightful place, the fridge and freezer neatly organized, and tomorrow’s meat already in the slow cookers at the correct temperature.

“Stellar job,” I told him as I walked into the back office a short while later. “Better than if Brett had been there to help.”

He grinned. “Thanks. You guys, uh, don’t really get along, huh?”

I snorted. “He just can’t take a joke. And he looks at us like we’re dirt unless he wants something.”

“You… you mean you guys in the other kitchen?”

“Yeah.”

Ricky flushed, looking down. “That sucks.”

“Anyway,” I said, because I definitely did not want to talk about Brett. “Want a beer?”

“Sure.” His eyes brightened as he reached for his jacket. “Got somewhere in mind?”

“Well, actually…” I walked over to my backpack and unzipped it. Straightening, I presented the six-pack to Ricky with a flourish. “Got ’em on my break,” I told him with a sheepish grin.

He laughed, but looked around nervously. “Um, are we allowed to…”

“I won’t tell.” I grinned at him slyly, twisting a can free and holding it out.

After a pause, he reached out and took it. His warm fingers brushed mine, and I tried not to outwardly react to the tingling sensation that spread up my arm. I could see the little patch of reddened skin from where he’d been chewing at the side of his thumbnail before. I wanted to pop it into my mouth and suck.

Nudging my bag out of the way, I sat down on the floor with my back to the wall and cracked open my own can. Grinning, I patted the empty space next to me as I stretched out my legs and crossed my ankles.

Cheeks pink, Ricky lowered himself beside me as he clutched his beer. I shifted until our shoulders brushed, tapping my can to his. “Cheers.”

At my first sip, I sighed and let my head rest against the wall, listening to the crack and hiss of Ricky opening his own can. Rolling my head, I watched as he lifted it to his mouth and took a sip, then licked his lips. My stomach tightened.

“So.” I smiled at him when he looked over. Fuck, our faces were really close. “First week over.”

He sighed in relief. “Yeah.”

I nudged his shoulder with mine. “How you finding it?”

“Good.” His ears went pink as he grinned at me. “At least, I mean, I think I’m doing okay.”

“You are.”

“Thanks.” He flushed, glancing down at the can in his hands before lifting it higher. “So, um… you can drink this okay? There’s nothing you’re, like, allergic to in it?”

“No, this is fine.” I didn’t really like lying about having a medical condition, but it was a widely used excuse among ghouls to explain our appearance and strict dietary habits.

The rampant goth culture helped a lot with that too.

“That’s good.” He paused, running his finger along the rim of his can. “Must be hard to eat out at many places. Like, with a… girlfriend and stuff.” His inflection rose at the end in a slight question as his face flamed pink.

A slow smile spread over my face as I turned my head to look at him again. My sweet, totally unsubtle Ricky. You are a delight.

“No girlfriend.” I had a sip of beer, then added, “No boyfriend either.”

He went completely still beside me. Hesitantly, he looked over, his cheeks still flushed and a hint of fear and nerves in his gaze that made me want to hug him.

“M-me neither.” His tongue darted out to swipe over his lips. He dropped his gaze to my mouth and exhaled sharply. “I mean… I don’t—I don’t have a… boyfriend either.”