by Scott, S. L.
His eyes shoot back to mine after dipping lower. “Couldn’t agree more.”
Patting the top of my hand, she lowers her voice. “I’ll let you eat. Enjoy the meal and don’t worry about the bill. It’s covered.”
“You really don’t have—”
“Eh,” she stops me. “It’s my pleasure, but make sure to stop in again sometime. Josh, cover the counter. I need to check on my orders.”
His attention stretches the length of the counter and then follows her. “Covered.”
As soon as she walks away, I say, “Don’t think I didn’t catch you checking me out.”
He remains leaning against the counter, making himself at home just as he did last night. “Figured it was only fair since you did the same to me.”
Fine, I gave him a once-over. So he’s right. It’s only fair. “Your arrogance is a turn-off.”
“I didn’t realize my job was to turn you on.”
“Don’t twist my words. And ew, I’m trying to eat here.”
Despite the arguing, he doesn’t seem bothered by me. Quite the contrary. He appears intrigued. Twisting the tag around in his hand, he says, “Of all the diners in New Haven, you walk into mine.”
“Your mom’s, actually, and I was returning the name tag that you carelessly dropped.”
“Maybe I wasn’t being so careless.” Bending down eye-level with me, he says, “Maybe I left it on purpose.”
“Well, if that’s the best you got . . .” I shrug. “Your method needs some work.”
“Does it?” He holds out his hand, and that damn wry grin reappears. “We never did officially meet.”
Angling my chin up, I reply, “I guess it’s good to get to know your enemies, Joshua.”
“Is that what we are, Chloe? Enemies? And here I was starting to think we we’re soul mates.”
3
Joshua Evans
It’s not often that I run into the people I deliver to, but apartment 3B was hard to forget.
Good tipper.
Stack of medical textbooks.
Bonsai tree named Frankie.
I’d almost forgotten the hard time she gave me. That’s not entirely fair since I’m the one who pushed every one of her buttons.
“Soul mates,” she scoffs with the devil in her eyes. It’s a different look from last night when she held more of an air of superiority. Either way, she’s hot.
Those green eyes, like her mouth, make it hard to look away.
The girl likes to argue, and there’s something about her that pushes me to engage.
Standing back up again, I ask, “So, tell me something, Chloe. Why’d you really come by?” I waggle the name tag in front of her. “Because I have a feeling it wasn’t to return a cheap name badge.”
“You’re right.” She holds her hands up in surrender. “You busted me.” Reaching for the mug, she adds, “What can I say? I came for caffeine and stayed for the chili.”
“I thought you’d stroke my ego and tell me you stayed for the company.”
Shaking her head, she laughs. “There will be no stroking of anything between you and I.”
“Me.”
“What?” She cocks an eyebrow, and there’s something incredibly sexy about the arc of it. Not that I’ll tell her. She doesn’t seem to want my input.
I give it to her anyway. “It’s you and me. Not you and I. So, the correct way to say it would be: there will be stroking between you and me.”
She starts laughing. “I see what you did there.”
Shrugging, I begin laughing as well. “I tried.” I clear dishes from the other end of the counter and then stand around like a fool. My mom looks busy, and T’s covering the kitchen, so I guess I’m stuck here. Might as well see what other reactions I can get out of her. It’s Chloe or Mike. And Mike only talks about his glory days back in high school. I’ve heard every play he ever ran. Chloe, it is. “Do you go to Yale?”
“Yes.” She takes another bite with her eyes glued to the study guide.
“If I hadn’t seen medical books at your place and the MCAT guide you brought here, I would have guessed poli sci.”
“Why would you think that?”
“You like a good debate.” I deadpanned it, but it’s really the truth.
That makes her laugh. “I actually don’t. There’s just something about you that brings it out in me.” Closing the book, she says, “You’re not going to let me study, are you?”
“Most think I’m pretty good company.”
I’ve made her roll her eyes so much that I’m starting to worry about her. She tucks the book in her bag and then sighs. “You know what I think?”
“I have a hunch you’re about to tell me.”
She sets her napkin beside the bowl. “I think you’re used to getting a lot of attention, so when you don’t, you crave it. Are you an only child or just had that ego of yours stroked too much?” Highly amused by herself, she continues to laugh while I clear the rest of the counter. Bringing a bin of silverware and napkins with me, I make use of the time I’m stuck here babysitting my mom’s new friend. “Do you know anything about that?”
Luckily, I’m not that sensitive. “Clever,” I allow her. Highly amused by herself, she continues to laugh while I clear the rest of the counter. Bringing a bin of silverware and napkins with me, I make use of the time I’m stuck here babysitting my mom’s new friend. “Do you know anything about that? Ego stroking?”
It’s never happened to me. I have to earn every accolade.” Sitting back, she doesn’t cross her arms, surprising me. “But we’re not talking about me. I’m still searching for balance, remember?” She cracks a smile and picks up the spoon again.
“Touché. How’s the chili?”
“It pains me to tell you this . . . but it’s delicious.”
I tuck the napkin into the fold. “It doesn’t pain me to get the compliment. You should try the cornbread.” Crumbling a piece into her chili, she takes a bite and savors it. I laugh because I can see the irritation. “I know. It’s good, too.”
“There’s that humility again.” She sips her coffee, and then asks, “How about you? Are you in school?”
“I am.” I rub chin. “May not look like it, but I go to Yale as well.”
Her expression can’t cover the interest I’ve piqued. When her shoulders ease, she says, “It’s very admirable how you balance school and work.”
Nothing she says comes without thought. “It’s not by choice, but most things in life aren’t.”
“Speaking of balance, what else do you know about bonsai? I’m worried about caring for Frankie properly.”
“You should mist the leaves regularly.” I wrap more silverware while trying to remember more of what I read because she seems genuinely interested. “And they can outgrow their pot. Frankie looked like she might need a little more room.”
“I can relate.” Rubbing her stomach, she says, “How’d I eat the whole bowl?”
“Because it was good.”
Her guard lowers, and I get a peek at the softer side when she smiles. “It really was.” She starts digging in her bag and pulls out her wallet. “I should go.”
I like that she holds her own; her confidence is appealing. She seems to know exactly what she wants out of life. “It was just getting fun.”
Flipping through a stack of large bills, she tugs out a twenty. “As fun as it is bantering with you, I have a lot to do to prepare for school tomorrow.”
So do I, but I need to finish my shift first. She pushes the money across the counter just as I was reaching to stop her. When our hands collide, they both stay. My heart picks up, and I swear for a second that I can feel everything. Our eyes latch, and though there was a spark that would normally cause me to pull back, I fight the urge, enjoying the contact. Lowering my voice to a whisper, I say, “Like my mom said, it’s on the house.”
Before she has a chance, I move away, giving myself much-needed space.
With the money between
us, she remains seated, staring at me in what appears to be a battle of wills. My eyebrows tug together as I try to figure her out. Like I don’t have anything better to do.
“Josh?” I look back at the kitchen door that’s propped open. The other cook, T., says, “I’m drowning back here.”
I hadn’t noticed how the lunch crowd had filed in or how my mom and Trina have been running around. Shit. I nod to him and follow, pushing the door open. “I have to go. I’d say maybe we’ll see each other around, but it seems we’re on two different paths.”
All the hurry she had in her earlier has subsided, and she sighs. “You’re probably right, so I guess have a good life still stands.”
Turning around, I feel the door swing against my ass, making her smile. “Seems so.” I’m not sure why this girl intrigues me, but she’s definitely more interesting than ladling chili all day. I want to know what makes her tick.
“Don’t you have to go?” she asks with a smile.
“Yes. Right. Gotta go.” This time, I don’t wait around. I wash my hands and return to the grill to start on the next ticket.
It only takes a few minutes before my mom finds me buried behind a stack of plates that should have gone out already. I’m also wise enough to know that’s not why she’s back here, though when she sees me still plating the food, she’s more than happy to wait by that smile on her face. “She’s sweet.”
“Who?” I play dumb, keeping my eyes leveled on the grill. I knew I’d eventually see her snooping around, digging for details. No way can she let the encounter go. At least, she never has before. “You know who. Chloe.”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t do anything out of line. I delivered the food. That’s all.”
“Tell me something. Did you leave that name tag there on purpose? I wouldn’t put it past you. You’ve been known to raise a little hell.”
Spinning the spatula in my hand, I tap it twice on the cooktop. “Just like my mama.”
She’s laughing when she comes around to whack to my arm. “Don’t ruin my reputation, kid. It’s taken me years to get a little respect in this town.” My mom was a wild child growing up. From what I hear, if there was trouble, she’d find it, and then she’d get a tattoo to commemorate it. Our laughter dies down as she returns to the other side and grabs the plate T just set down for delivery.
“I’ll keep your secret.”
With the plate in hand, she looks at me, not in expectation but examination. I hate being under her microscope. That means the conversation isn’t over. She’s always been intuitive, and if I forget to set a face of indifference, she’ll call out that emotion. “All I’m saying is that must have been some delivery.”
“Yeah, normal.” I laugh. As much as I can respect her solid comebacks, the girl keeps a lot hidden inside. That’s not my usual type. “Nothing special.”
“Nothing special, huh? Okay. If that’s how you’re going to play it. It looked like something more than nothing to me.” The door swings closed.
The next thing I know, I’m running out the back door and up the alley to the sidewalk.
“Ah!” I crash into someone who screams, and grab hold so we don’t fall.
Leaning back, I’m pleasantly surprised. “Hey.”
“You scared me, Joshua.” Pushing off me, she readjusts her bag on her shoulder.
“Sorry. I was trying to catch up to you.”
Her hands land on her hips as she glares at me. “Well, you caught me.”
I don’t know what it is, but I’m so damn tempted to kiss her, to hold her face between my hands and feel her lips against mine.
What am I doing? I run my hand through my hair, and say, “Uh. You need to submerge Frankie’s entire pot under water once a week. When the air bubbles stop, you can take it out. They have unique care.”
“Do you know this much about all plants or just bonsai trees?”
“It’s a loose knowledge. Like I said, I got one a few years back, and it’s taken a lot of trial and error and searching online, but mine’s survived.”
She shifts, her hands lowering to her sides. “Is that why you wanted to find me?”
“No, I also wanted to tell you that tomorrow’s special is my favorite.”
She peers down and smiles, but I can tell there’s no irritation left in her, not even a little banter. “Oh, yeah? What’s tomorrow’s special?”
“Grilled cheese and homemade tomato-basil soup.”
“That sounds good.” She moves her wavy brown hair over her shoulder.
“We serve it every Tuesday if you’re in the neighborhood. Sometimes, we have enough staff for delivery if you prefer to eat at home.”
“I’ll keep that mind.”
“I hope you do.” Just when she turns to leave, I add, “Say hi to Frankie for me.”
Her feet stop on the pavement, and she looks back with a smile. “I will. Bye, Joshua.”
“Bye, Chloe.”
I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but I like the feeling. I try to slip back inside undetected, but I suspect my mom can sense me in the area because she’s right back in here. Most of our conversations are interrupted by orders needing to be delivered, and she picks up where she left off earlier. “Look, Joshua, I know you’re around a lot of rich kids, and you got into an Ivy League school. Our home wasn’t expensive, but it’s ours. You’re not less than anyone, but some people in this town will look down on you because you’re my kid, or you’re a townie to the upper New Haven folk. Money doesn’t make them better.”
“It only makes them richer. I know, Mom. I’ve heard this a thousand times. Don’t worry, I’m sticking to my own kind.”
I see how unsettled the conversation makes her. She was burned by rich kids attending the university, including the man who donated his sperm to make me. He used to tell me to call him Dad, and although it’s descriptively close to what he is, the name never feels right. Neither does calling him David, so I’m fucked either way. Though I can surmise that the little taste of his good life I’ve had also added to my bitterness. I don’t want to be in that world anyway.
Chicks don’t care about my baggage. Most people don’t even know. They have issues of their own. But that doesn’t mean it hasn’t fucked with my head. It’s easier to mess around casually than to commit and be abandoned again.
“Your kind is whoever you want it to be. Just be careful when you start mixing with those who make you feel less,” Mom says.
“Don’t worry. She didn’t make me feel anything,” I lie, feeling more interested than I’ve been toward anyone else in a while. “I delivered food to a girl. So what? There are a lot of hot girls in this town. I’m not marrying her and I’m not fuc—”
“Zip it. Don’t talk like that. It’s beneath your intelligence and disrespectful to a girl I can tell you dig.”
Dig? I roll my eyes. “You swear.”
A grin sidles up one of her cheeks, the lines deeper these days. “Do as I say, kid. Not as I do.”
Saluting her with my spatula, I say, “Aye aye, captain.” I plate two dishes and hand them to her. “Best served hot.”
She winks, seemingly satisfied with my answers, and walks out of the kitchen. I glance over at T, who’s grinning, but I know that smile. “Don’t even say it, T. My mom’s bad enough. I don’t need your teasing.”
“Doesn’t matter how old you get, Josh, you’ll always be her baby.”
“Times like these, I wish I had siblings to take some of the heat off that mama bear attention.” Chloe’s probably right about me craving it. I just don’t want it from my mom anymore.
That keeps him laughing, and having a good time while spending hours over this hot grill is the only way to get through a long shift. After putting a pan of cornbread in the oven, I move to the swinging door and peek through the porthole to where Chloe was sitting.
Good-looking is an understatement, I finally admit. But judging by that fancy looking bag she had clinging to her shoulder, my mom’s right. Sh
e’s out of my league. Not that she was saying that, but I get the drift of “don’t mix.”
The rich college kids like to toy with the townies. Doesn’t matter if you’re born in New Haven or from the outskirts of the suburbs. Locals will never be considered equal in their eyes. So it might be fun to banter with her but getting closer will only get me burned.
I’ve seen it happen enough to others not to test the fates. I’m just curious why I’m suddenly willing to test that theory with her?
Pursuing anything with her would be a bad idea because I’ll be the one who pays the price. I’m not in her league, so what would a girl like her see in me?
Anyway, I know damn well that dating from the other side of the tracks isn’t my scene. So why am I still thinking about her?
4
Chloe
“I told him in the ass!” Ruby giggles, barreling over in laughter on the other side of the couch from me. “How was I to know he meant a location like a kitchen or something boring like that when he asked where’s the craziest place I’ve had sex?”
“You actually said that?” I ask wide-eyed.
“You should have seen his face, Clo. Priceless. Who said New Yorkers are jaded?”
“I don’t think anyone’s prepared for you, my friend, but I’m glad you had a good time, even if it didn’t work out.”
Ruby’s antics make me think about the past two days. Overanalyzing both exchanges, I’ve come to the conclusion that Joshua doesn’t know what he’s talking about because he doesn’t know anything about me. Sure, he’s quick to throw in his two cents, but that doesn’t mean that opinion should be taken into consideration.
I have a feeling he got what he wanted—more of my time.
“You should not let me drink on a school night,” Ruby says.
“A case of wine was the first thing you moved in, so I don’t think I could have stopped you if I tried,” I reply, teasing.
“I’m glad you didn’t try.” She kicks her feet up on the coffee table, her arms going wide. “My body hurts from laughing. It’s good to hang out again.”