When I Fell For You
By Melanie Marks and M. Anne Marks
Copyright 2017 Melanie Marks
Copyright 2017 M. Anne Marks
Cover Image © Sergey Novikov | Shutterstock.com
All Rights Reserved.
Table of Contents
When I Fell For You
My Impossible Heartthrob
Note From The Author
M. Anne Marks newest book:
The Heartbreaker Next Door
When I Fell For You
CHAPTER 1
At work, I got my salad stolen. STOLEN! For the second time today. I had just made it for table eight. Now—gone.
“That’s it!” I slammed down my serving tray.
I didn’t even care (for the most part) that all my co-workers were now staring at me. So what? I’d had enough. They were all catty witches anyway and I was ready to quit.
Riley was at my elbow in a second. “What’s going on?”
I opened my mouth, ready to rat everyone out. But Porcha cut me off, accusing Riley, “You give her all the good tables and do whatever she wants because you have the hots for her.”
Huh?!
My jaw dropped. Literally.
Riley had the hots for me? What a joke. The truth was so totally the opposite it wasn’t even funny. Not even slightly. Riley only gave me the waitressing gig as a favor to my boyfriend, Finn. If they hadn’t been best friends since like, preschool Riley would have laughed in my face when he learned I needed a job.
“He does not have the hots for me!” I snorted. “The guy hates me.”
“Jones! I don’t hate you.” Riley sounded surprised, completely baffled by the mere idea.
Yeah, right. Whatever. He was so full of it.
“Okaay,” I muttered—not even slightly believing his protest, though nice try—props to his acting and effort and everything—but whatever, I was still in a rage, so ready to quit.
I was going to storm off—out of the kitchen, out of the restaurant. That was my plan, but then I couldn’t help myself. I whirled back to Porcha.
“Yes he does. He totally hates me.”
Riley stared at me for a second, as though he couldn’t believe I really thought that. Then he let out a breath and herded Porcha and me into his office. (Well, really it was his dad’s office, since his dad owned the restaurant, but his dad hurt his back and was laid up for the whole summer—in Maui—so Riley was totally in charge—“The Boss.”)
Riley told everyone else to get back to work. I ignored their lingering, smug stares. I hated them—all of them—the bitter, mean … meanies. Grrr!
Once in his office, I turned my back to Riley, making sure Porcha understood that no matter how much he protested, our dear boss did indeed hate me and if she thought otherwise—if any of my co-workers thought otherwise—it was a total, complete, fat delusion. Seriously. They were clueless. Seriously. I got no special treatment. None. At all. Riley despised me. Big time.
“He always has,” I huffed. “When we were kids, he used to put rice in my hood so when I put on my coat I’d get covered in rice and everyone called me Lice Head—for years! And he used to write mean notes to me, and now he won’t even work with me. I mean, look at the schedule.” I grabbed it off his desk and shoved it in Porcha’s face. “We never, ever work the same hours, ever. Just teeny, tiny little overlaps now and then—like right now—and he’s getting off soon. Trust me, I know, the guy hates me.”
“Jones, I don’t hate you.”
I whipped around. “Give it up, Riley! You avoid me as much as possible.”
“Well,” Porcha ticked her tongue, still studying the schedule, seeming surprised by my indisputable proof. We had hardly any hours together—ever—and he made the schedule.
Porcha shrugged. “When you do work together he can’t take his eyes off you. He watches your skinny butt all through the kitchen.”
“No he doesn’t!” She was so wrong! “When I come to work he slinks up here to his office to get away from me.”
“Hello! It’s one-way glass!” She gestured around, sounding like, duh! “He can watch you, alone—totally stalk on you.”
Riley shot her a look, quirking his eyebrows, appearing slightly amused, but he used his I-can’t-believe-you-said-that tone. “I don’t do that.” Then he added, “She’s dating my best friend.”
Porcha scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “Then your friend better watch out.”
“Look, Porcha, who I hire is none of your business,” Riley said. “If I want to hire my little old aunt with a wooden leg and make her head waitress that’s none of your business. You work for me.”
Porcha rolled her eyes, but we both knew, although Riley kept things light, he would only put up with so much crap.
He took the schedule from Porcha. “Go back to work.”
I started to follow Porcha out of the office, but Riley’s next words stopped me cold. “Not you, Jones. Stay here a minute.” He waited until Porcha was gone, then he shut the door. “I don’t hate you, Jones.”
“Right.” Immediately I could feel tears welling in my eyes. “Look Riley, it’s not a big deal.” My voice wobbled. “You’ve been really nice and helpful since my dad died and I appreciate the job. I do. But let’s face it, if I wasn’t dating Finn you’d tell me to go …”—ugh, I couldn’t think of anything clever, nothing—“… jump in a lake.”
Riley tilted his head, eyeing me. He was watching me so intently, my palms started to sweat and my stomach got all fluttery. The thing was, Riley didn’t usually look at me. Ever. He would look anywhere but at me. And it wasn’t as though he was shy. He wasn’t. At all. Riley was gorgeous and funny and charming, and he was awesome at the guitar and in a cool band and … Well, I could go on. On and on. All day. Seriously. ‘Cause Riley was—hot.
But face it, he despised me. Always had—since the seventh grade. And it seemed he always would. I guess it could have been because he resented me for coming between him and his best friend and all that. Maybe. But whatever the reason—because really I had no real, true idea why—Riley hated me.
Actually, it was just as well. A good thing, really. ‘Cause otherwise right then I might have pounced on him, started licking his yummy smelling neck or something. Seriously. Well, not really, of course. But yesterday, he leaned over me a couple times to grab a kitchen order and I almost lunged at him. He smelled so good.
Plus I’d been so messed up yesterday. Well, not just yesterday—lately. I found myself looking at Riley differently these days. Kind of craving him. Sort of. Don’t get me wrong, I’d never cheat on Finn. Never, ever. But lately—for over a month now, ever since school let out for the summer—Finn and I fought a lot. Like constantly. Suddenly I was a jealous, insecure, hurting wreck—never been like that before, never had to. But this summer Finn lifeguarded at the community pool with a gorgeous bimbo, Bianca Dumpty. She wanted his body—big time bad—and she wasn’t shy about letting him know.
So … ugh. Lately, things weren’t the same between Finn and me—not at all. He seemed sort of—not interested in me. Well, not as interested as he used to be. Or as interested as he seemed to be in Bianca. Like I said, she flirted with him like crazy. But she always had—since middle school. Only, Finn didn’t used to seem to care. Or even really notice. But now that they worked together as lifeguards—well, it’s hard not to notice Bianca in a bathing suit. So, I got that. I did. And I wasn’t mad so much as hurt. But whoa, they had become really close. And he went on and on about her these days. It had me gritting my teeth. And re-thinking our relationship—and wondering if it was time to move on to someone else. And yeah, okay, it had me kind of fantasying about Riley. Sort of. Constantly.
Still, I wanted to work
things out with Finn. I did. I wanted us to somehow go back to the way things were before this summer. We’d been together forever, and I couldn’t really imagine not being with him. But I couldn’t help what went on in my head these days. I mean, I didn’t dream about Riley on purpose. It just … happened.
Lucky for me though, it didn’t matter how I suddenly felt about Riley, because, as I said, he hated me. Lucky, lucky me.
“Jones, you have this all wrong,” Riley said, oblivious to my overwhelming desire to sniff him up closer. “But you’ve been a good worker, so I guess I should let you think what you want. Only, I don’t see how you can think that. I take your little brother to the arcade, I let him pee in my hot tub—”
“Yes, Riley. Since my dad died you’ve been sweet—to Kaleb.”
“What Jones, you want to pee in my hot tub too?”
Ugh!
Riley quickly changed tack, apparently realizing that now that my hurt feelings were out in the open, he couldn’t just sweep them away—no matter how much he seemed to want to. ‘Cause there they were—right in his face.
He stared at me a moment, his eyes reflective, seeming to weigh his next statement in his mind before actually asking it. “Is there something you need from me, Jones?”
“No.” I sighed. He wasn’t getting it. Or he was pretending not to. “That’s not it. I don’t need anything from you—except my job, and I really do appreciate it. But you do avoid me. You can’t deny that, Riley. You always have.”
“Look, Jones, I’m pretty much tight with Ava these days.” His lips twitched. “I’m taken.”
He was only teasing, but still I groaned.
“Ugh! No Riley, you know that’s not what I’m talking about. You’ve avoided me for … ever. You don’t like me. You never have.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “You have this so wrong, Jones.”
Grr!
“Riley, give it up. You avoid me at all costs. I just don’t get why I bug you so much.”
His eyes lost their usual cockiness. “You don’t bug me, Jones.”
The way he said that had my heart pumping all wild. He sounded completely sincere. It made me stare up at him in shock. “I—I don’t?”
He shook his head slightly. Slowly. His eyes studying me, then he cleared his throat. “This conversation—it’s—” Riley didn’t finish. Instead he rubbed his face with the palms of his hands, then let out an exasperated breath. “Go back to work Jones.”
He sounded sort of … I don’t even know, tortured? It was weird. Unsettling. I mean, this was Riley. Riley! He wasn’t like that—someone that let things bother him. But I did what he said. I went back to work and tried to ignore his aversion to me. And my co-workers’ aversion to me. Screw them. Screw them all. I needed the job, and I was good at it, dang good at it. And despite what the other waitresses said, I worked hard. I did. They were just catty, backstabbing, banshees.
And who cared if I had no friends at the restaurant, anyway?
Well … okay, I cared. But there didn’t seem to be anything I could do about it. When Riley gave me the job here everyone thought I was getting preferential treatment, and I guess I was. But not for the reasons they thought. Riley was just trying to help out his best friend’s girlfriend because her dad recently died and her family’s financial situation was hosed. Also, Riley’s Mom had died when he was young—so he sort of understood how messed up things were when you lose a parent.
So anyway, yeah, I went back to work. And I worked hard. All week, and the next. And the tips were good, great even. Sad to say, but waitressing was my thing. I was way better at it than any sport I ever played. Plus, waitressing turned out to be a release for me. My dad just died and my boyfriend spent all his time with a bimbo, but at work I was so busy I didn’t have time to think about it. So, work was nice, mind-numbing.
Friday evening my mind was so numb, I jumped when my co-worker, Regan, tugged at my arm.
“Oh sorry, Zoey—just trying to get your attention.” For once she sounded nice, friendly even. “I was wondering if you could, maybe, close for me tonight?”
Oh, so that explained her non-hostility—she needed a favor.
“Um.” I thought about it a moment, trying to decide. Of course on the one hand, I was free since Finn had a work-thing tonight and I could totally use the extra money. On the other, Regan was a witch and I didn’t want to do her any favors. I mean, she was mean to me. Still, in the end, the need for money won out.
“Sure,” I said at last. “I’ll close.”
“Thanks! I owe you.”
She ran off looking relieved and non-witch-like. And really, I didn’t mind closing the restaurant. It was just a lot of cleaning, and I was a pro at cleaning. I did it all the time at home, constantly—only there I didn’t get paid for it.
When the restaurant was finally devoid of customers, I locked the door and cranked up my music on the restaurant’s loud speakers. It was basically blaring, but that’s the way I like it. Loud music helps me work faster.
I was almost finished cleaning the salad station when my music suddenly turned off and only moments later, Riley rounded the corner, then froze. “Oh. It’s you.”
It was the first time he’d actually spoken to me since my fight with Porcha.
I grimaced, then gritted my teeth. “Nice to see you too.”
“No. I just mean—what happened to Regan?”
Of course he had scheduled Regan to close with him rather than me—anyone but me.
I put away the last of the pies. “Something came up, I guess. She needed me to close.” I shut the fridge, then noticed two more banana creams and tried squeezing them in. “Don’t worry,” I said gruffly. “I’ll stay out of your way. I’m almost done.”
Riley gave me a look. “You’re not in my way, Jones.”
“Whatever. I know you would have scurried out if you knew it was me here. So, you can go. Don’t worry about it. I can lock up.”
Riley was silent a moment. “You sure?”
Ugh! He was willing to do that? Really?
Really???
“Sure,” I grumbled, planning to keep quiet, not say more. But these days that didn’t seem to be my thing. These days I couldn’t keep quiet. “Why do you hate me so much? What is it about me?”
He was silent for a long time. Then he said softly, “I don’t hate you, Jones.”
“Oh come on, Riley. Look, don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal to me—not anymore. But admit it, you do avoid me—all the time. You always have.”
“I don’t avoid you.”
“Ha! Shall we look at the schedule—again? Is there a day on it that we close together? Has there ever been a day on it that we closed together? No Riley, there isn’t. And you have me down to work lunch when you work dinners, and me working nights when you work lunch.”
“Okay, Jones, the schedule—”
“No, Riley, it’s more than the schedule. You avoid me at all costs. You always have. Even back in junior high—when Finn and I started dating. Any time I came around, you took off. And once we were in high school—” I held back a sob, forgetting where I’d left off, but still rambling on, letting my frustrations spill out all over the kitchen. “Finn and I have been together for over four years. Four years! And how many times have you actually been inside my house—maybe three? You meet Finn for band practices or have him over for poker, you give my little brother rides places ‘cause you used to be his hockey coach—but you never ever come to my house—not even when Finn invites you specifically. Not for dinners, not for guitar, not for parties—even when it’s really Finn’s party—just at my house.”
Riley nodded, like he understood what I was getting at, so I went on, because there was more. Tons. Like: He’d leave whenever I sang with his band, and he wouldn’t let me go to “the guys” poker nights—though okay, maybe that one was more Finn’s doing than Riley’s as my boyfriend had serious gambling issues. But whatever. The list went on and on.
I rolled my eyes. “What, you’re saying you avoid me because you like me so much?”
“Yeah.” He set his jaw, his dark eyes locked on mine. “Right. Exactly.”
My heart ricochet off my rib cage.
I would have laughed, like it was a joke or something, only he wasn’t laughing. Or joking. His eyes looked all tortured and hurting. So, my heart sort of fell to the floor. Like my jaw. And I didn’t know what to say, and he wasn’t saying anything, so we just sort of stood there, not saying anything.
But he couldn’t really be serious.
Could he?
I tilted my head. “But you used to put cornflakes in my snow boots, and—write me mean notes.”
“What? When we were ten?” He rubbed his face, looking away. “I was frustrated, Jones. You were in love with my best friend—you wouldn’t even look at me.”
His gaze flickered from my eyes to the bucket I was holding, then back to my face. “You can go home now if you want.”
“But, I’m not done.” I gestured about the messy kitchen.
“I’ll finish.”
“But you’re the boss.”
“Jones … go home.”
So, I went home. But I didn’t sleep, couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about Riley, about how tormented he had seemed when I questioned him about liking me. Yeah. Right. Exactly. And I kept thinking about his eyes, how they had been so full of want. Or had I imagined that? It was hard to tell.
I’d always had a secret “thing” for Riley. Always. Even when we were kids. But he had always been so mean to me. So, I never admitted it to anyone, not even myself, that I kind of wanted him, sort of bad. And when he would show me random acts of kindness I’d always chalked it up to his being friends with Finn. And when Riley’s kindness would, at times, seem sort of romantic, well, I’d always chalked that part up to my imagination and secret, unevaluated feelings for him. After all, the guy avoided me, at all costs.
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