by Katie Ashley
“Don’t tell me a bunch of teenagers wore you out.”
Brandon snorted. “He’s probably exhausted from the hero worship.”
“I wish,” I grumbled.
Jonathan shoved my legs over before flopping down on the couch. “What happened?”
“I didn’t get to throw around a football or just hang out with the kids.”
“So what did you do?” Brandon asked.
“I cleaned toilets, scrubbed floors, and cleaned and rearranged two storerooms.”
Brandon whistled. “Holy shit, dude. You must have the most hard-ass boss ever.”
“Yeah, she is,” I grumbled.
“It’s a she?” Jonathan questioned.
“Unfortunately yes.”
Brandon scratched his chin. “Hmm, she must be one of those bitches who have it in for jocks. Like because some baller didn’t like her, she has some vendetta out against all players.”
“It’s something like that, except a little more personal.”
Jonathan narrowed his eyes at me. “What do you mean?”
“I need a beer first.”
Brandon nodded and ducked into the kitchen. When he returned, he handed it to me. I gulped down two long pulls. “So senior year there was this girl named Avery—”
“The Avery you cried about that one time?” Jonathan asked.
While I threw him a death glare, Brandon stared at me with wide eyes. “You actually cried about a girl?”
“One fucking time, and I was drunk.”
He shook his head. “Damn, man, I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Of the three of us, Brandon was the most decent when it came to girls. He had more of a sensitive side than Jonathan or me. It probably came from being the only boy in a family with three older sisters; the estrogen just wore off on him. Of course, as insensitive assholes, Jonathan and I liked to give him shit about it.
“Finish your story,” Jonathan instructed.
I downed the last of my beer. After a massive burp erupted from my lips, I said, “You could say it all started with Shakespeare…”
AVERY
After grabbing my last period’s books, I slammed my locker shut and jogged down the hall to my British literature class, ducking inside just before the warning bell rang. Keeping my head down, I made my way down the row of single file desks and slid into mine. While others chattered around me, I took out my notebook and started copying down the daily warm-up.
Once the final bell rang and several stragglers hurried inside, Dr. Paulson closed the door. She then waved her hands, signaling for us to quiet down, and the room immediately silenced. With her silver hair and grandmotherly sweaters, Dr. Paulson might’ve appeared to be a sweet old lady, but she ruled her class with steely reserve.
She adjusted her glasses as she stood before the lectern at the front of the classroom. “Before we get started on the reading, I will be assigning you your partners for the Shakespeare project.”
Oh yeah, that was today. The Shakespeare project was legendary for seniors. You were given a particular theme that you had to explore in Shakespeare’s works. Part of me was excited to start work on what would be almost like a college thesis. Since it was a persuasive paper and presentation, I would get to flex the argumentative muscles I hoped to one day use as an attorney. Of course, I had to get through law school first.
The other part of me was less than thrilled about the presentation part. It wasn’t so much that I hated speaking in front of people; it was more about the fact that having to work with an assigned partner made me want to die a thousand deaths. As an introvert, I’d hated group assignments when I had attended public school, and it had become even more agonizing when I’d come to Harlington. Small talk became increasingly more difficult when you tried to make it with people who were way outside your social realm. The thirty-acre working farm I lived on was a far cry from the mansions my peers called home.
Dr. Paulson cleared her throat and began rattling off names and themes. “Avery Prescott and Cade Hall, you will be working on the theme of anti-love and anti-romance in Shakespeare’s greatest love stories.”
I blinked a few times. Surely I had misunderstood her. At what must’ve been my blank stare, Dr. Paulson gave me a disapproving look. “Avery, aren’t you writing this down?”
Her admonishment caused me to fumble for my pen. “Yes ma’am,” I replied as I scribbled down the information my brain refused to process.
When I wrote the name Cade Hall, I shuddered. Oh no. No, no, no! This couldn’t be happening. Out of a class of twenty-five students, I couldn’t possibly have been assigned to work with him. Instantly, I thought of the line from Casablanca: “Out of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she had to walk into mine.”
I fought to catch my breath as anxiety pricked over my body, causing me to shudder. Cade Hall was my partner.
When I dared to sneak a peek at him over my shoulder, I found him staring straight at me. He then winked at me. I whipped my head back around and stared at my notebook. Ugh, he was such a player. I mean, who winks at their future project partner in the middle of British lit?
I don’t know why I was surprised. After all, Cade’s reputation was legendary at Harlington, which was saying a lot considering he’d only enrolled the second semester of the previous year. Apparently he’d been kicked out of his last private school over the Christmas break of his junior year and Harlington was willing to overlook some of his indiscretions because of his football talent. Then there was also the fact that his dad was a state representative and had apparently given the school a sizeable donation.
Although he hadn’t even been at Harlington a full year, he’d managed to screw his way through most of the A-crowd girls not just in the senior class, but in the junior and sophomore classes as well. Right then, Elspeth Manning, the Regina George of Harlington, had her hooks in him. They had just been nominated to homecoming court for the senior class, and it seemed like a no-brainer that they would be named king and queen.
Once Dr. Paulson finished assigning partners, she handed out the paper and presentation requirements. I hung on to every word and jotted down notes in the margins. When I once again looked back at Cade, he wasn’t even paying attention. Instead, he was sneaking a glance at his phone, which he had hidden in his lap. Although we could have iPads and laptops out in class, phones were banned. It made perfect sense that Mr. Rule Breaker would totally disregard the policy.
I didn’t know why Cade’s apathy surprised me. British lit was the only class I had with him, but he always seemed to just coast along. He never volunteered in discussions, and he only participated when Dr. Paulson called on him. Surprisingly, he always had something seemingly intelligent to say in reply.
The bell rang, but none of us moved. Dr. Paulson had made it clear from day one that she dismissed class, not the bell. “That’s it for today. Don’t forget to read Act III in Richard III for tomorrow’s discussion.”
After sliding my book and notebook into my backpack, I felt a presence looming over me. I glanced up into Cade’s smirking face. He swept a hand rather dramatically to his chest. “So, Prescott, aren’t you the lucky one getting me as a partner?”
“You actually know my name?” I questioned incredulously.
“Yep.”
Well, that was certainly surprising considering he was part of the A-crowd, and I was who I was. I wasn’t even sure I had a crowd at Harlington. Most of my friends were from my days in public school. If I did have a crowd, it would be somewhere down the line, like D or E.
Before that day, I didn’t think Cade had said two words to me unless it was to try to bum a pencil or paper. He leaned back against the desk in front of me, which caused his ample biceps to strain against his standard white button-down. “Anyway, I was thinking if you were cool with it, we should probably head over to the library for a planning session.”
My mouth gaped open. I hadn’t expected Cade to be so gung-ho about
working on the project. After all, he’d always impressed me more as the ultimate slacker guy who waited until the night before something was due. “Um, yeah, I’d like to, but I have to be at work in half an hour.”
“We could make it quick. Could you call them and ask to be a little late?”
I shook my head. “I’m the only one my mom has to relieve her.” At his scrunched brows, I added, “You see, it’s my mom’s business. She owns an antique store with a teahouse inside. Well, it’s actually a little more than just a teahouse because we serve sandwiches, soups, and desserts along with coffee.”
Shut up, Avery! The guy asked a simple question. He doesn’t need to hear your life’s story. Next you’ll be telling him about your mom having you at seventeen and how you’ve never met your father.
“That sounds cool,” Cade mused. His tone had me wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole.
“Yeah, it is pretty cool. She makes a lot of natural products like lotions and shampoo, too. She’s really talented.” Seriously, kill me now. What was it about Cade that made me have verbal diarrhea? Most of the time, I clammed up around guys from Harlington. The only boys I’d dated were from my public school days, and even then, I wasn’t overly chatty.
“Sounds like it.”
And then I did something totally out of character for me. “If you’re really set on working today, you could come to the shop, and then we could get some work done between customers.”
Cade’s brows shot up. “Really?”
I nodded. “It’s usually slow in the afternoons.”
“Okay. That sounds great.” He dug his phone out of his pants pocket. “What’s the address?”
“2131 Main Street. It’s called Rose’s Garden. I always tease my mom about being narcissistic and naming it after herself since her name is Rose.” I then did a very unattractive and embarrassing snort. “Well, it’s Rose Prescott, not Rose Garden.”
Amusement twinkled in Cade’s blue eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk so much, Prescott.”
Mortification rocketed through me. “Sorry,” I muttered.
“Nothin’ to apologize about. I’m glad to see you actually have a personality. No offense, but I kinda thought you were a social mutant who never spoke except to the teacher.”
“Um, no. I can be quite social when I want to be, thank you very much.”
Cade grinned. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”
“You didn’t.”
“Yeah, I did. That’s why you got all pissy.”
“I wasn’t pissy. I was just stating facts,” I challenged in a huff.
Instead of Cade getting “pissy” back, he merely laughed. “This is going to be fun, Prescott.”
“If you say so.”
“Oh, I know so. It’s always fun when a girl doesn’t take my shit. It so rarely happens. Most are willing to put up with anything just to hang out with me.”
“Rest assured, I’m not like other girls.”
“I’m well aware of that.” Cade was momentarily distracted by his phone vibrating in his pocket. “Listen, I’m gonna run by the dorm and change outta this get-up then I’ll head your way. How does that sound?”
“It sounds fine.”
Cade nodded. “See ya.”
“See ya,” I echoed as I watched him walk away.
Once Cade left, I hurried out of the building and across the parking lot to my truck. After tossing my bag in the front seat, I cranked it up and headed away from Harlington’s campus. Most of the students who attended Harlington lived in the dorms, but there were a few like myself who lived off campus. It was twenty minutes to the farm where I lived with my mom and grandmother, but just ten minutes to downtown Rome, Georgia, where Rose’s Garden was.
When she’d had me at seventeen, my mom’s hopes and dreams of escaping small-town life with a softball scholarship to an out-of-state college were dashed. She dropped out of school and got her GED. For most of my childhood, she pinged around several different waitressing and secretarial jobs while going to school at night. She also spent time on her hobby of making soaps and lotions. After she earned her business degree, she decided what she wanted to do more than anything was open a teahouse and antique store. That’s when Rose’s Garden was born. So far it had been a huge success. She was even talking about expanding to a second store.
I swung around to the back parking lot and then hopped out of my truck and headed inside. Once I unlocked the door, the smell of aged furniture and brewing tea invaded my nostrils as Ella James piping in over the stereo speakers filled my ears. When it was just my mom, she played the classic crooners to give a bygone ambiance to the antique side of the shop. As soon as she left, I switched over to the local pop station.
I ducked into the employee bathroom to ditch one uniform for another. Since my mom liked a vintage feel for the store, she wanted her employees—her niece, Mae, and me—to dress vintage as well. I had a navy dress with white polka dots and a halter neck that made me appear like I stepped out of the 1950s. While I didn’t hate the uniform, I would have been much more comfortable in jeans and a T-shirt, something like what they wore across town at Starbucks. Since nothing about me screamed pin-up girl hottie, I felt like a phony. My cousin, Mae, on the other hand, fit right into the persona with her long legs, push-up bras, and bubbly confidence.
After hanging up my Harlington uniform, I exited the bathroom and hurried out to the main room. Mom had taken two stores and renovated them into one enormous room. One side housed all the necessities for the teahouse. It had a vintage counter with stools, and behind it was the preparation area for the tea and goodies. Out on the main floor area were several tables and chairs along with two overstuffed sofas. As for the antique store side, it was packed with all sorts of things from large pieces of furniture to smaller lamps and china.
Gazing around the store, I couldn’t help the pride that flowed through me. My mom had worked so hard to bulldoze the stereotype that a girl who got pregnant in high school couldn’t make something of herself. She now sat on the board of entrepreneurs at the chamber of commerce.
Speaking of my mom, I spotted her willowy form over in the antique section where a blue-haired lady was eyeing a 19th-century sideboard. When my mother glanced over at me, I smiled and waved. She threw her hand up before motioning for me to go ahead and get behind the counter.
Although my mother was beautiful and not socially awkward like me, she struggled with men. Her story was as old as time. The man she had given her heart, soul, and body to had played her for a fool. He had whispered words of love only to get her into bed, and when he’d grown tired of her, he’d tossed her—and subsequently me—to the side. Over the years, she had dated a few guys. One guy had lasted almost two years, but she’d never found “the one”.
After I sold a few soaps and a peppermint tea, Mom joined me behind the counter. “I finally nailed down Mrs. Beaufort on that sideboard,” she said.
I threw my hand up for a high five. “Nice job. It’s been here for a while, hasn’t it?”
“Three months.” After pouring herself a cup of the house tea in a to-go cup, Mom asked, “How was school?”
“Good. We got our Shakespeare project assignments today, and my partner is coming by in a little while for us to get started. I hope that’s okay.”
Mom nodded as she blew air into the steaming cup. “Sure. It’s fine.” She leaned over and planted a kiss on my cheek. “See you later, sweetie.”
“Bye,” I said as two ladies approached the counter.
As Mom headed out, I worked on preparing the ladies’ orders. The bell over the front door tinkled, alerting me of a new customer. When I glanced up from preparing two chai teas, I saw Cade strolling in. He'd changed into a pair of khaki shorts and a Harlington Prep Football t-shirt that stretched tight across his muscles.
The sight of him out of uniform was jarring, and I just stood there staring. I guess it was a natural reaction considering how good-lookin
g he was. Most of the girls in my class were always drooling over him. Before that day, I’d never really thought of him that way. Jocks had never been my type, especially the ones in the A-crowd. The guys I usually went for were the “nerdy cute” types, the ones who made good grades and gave thought-provoking responses in class discussions.
The truth was I’d never really dated that much. Even the nerdy cute guys didn’t really seem interested in me. I guess it was because I never seemed to fit in. In public school, I had been the freakishly smart girl. Now at Harlington I was the outsider without a trust fund who lived on a farm. I had my hopes that once I got out of my small town and got to college, things would be different.
My finger being singed by hot tea jolted me out of my thoughts. “Ouch,” I hissed before bringing my finger to my mouth. As I sucked on the afflicted tip, I met Cade’s eyes. He stared at me oddly for a second before he threw up his hand.
I quickly jerked my finger out of my mouth and then waved back. While he started over to the counter, I handed over the teas to the two ladies. “Have a nice day,” I said with a smile.
Cade flopped his messenger bag onto the counter and then sat down on the stool. “This place is wild.”
“I assume that is a compliment, so I’ll say thank you.”
“Yeah, it is.” His eyes then raked over my appearance. The way he looked at me not only sent goose bumps pricking across my skin, but it made me want to cross my arms over my chest. He gave a quick shake of his head. “Damn, Prescott. I’d have to say you’re the wildest part of all of this.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just how different you look outside of Harlington in that outfit.”
“It’s my uniform.”
Cade waggled his brows. “It’s hot.”
Embarrassment warmed my cheeks. Did Cade Hall actually just say I was “hot”? I was sure I must’ve stumbled into some alternate universe or something where guys so out of my league gave me compliments on my appearance. “Um, thanks. I mean, thank you for the compliment.”
"You’re welcome.” Caleb rubbed his hands together. “Man, I'm starving. What do you have to eat here besides tea?"