MeanGirls

by Lucy Felthouse

  He took one look at Adele’s stunned expression and exited the sauna as quickly as he possibly could. He grabbed his T-shirt and flip-flops and scurried back up the stairs and out through the door. He got some strange looks from his fellow employees and some patrons as he made his way up the corridor shirtless and barefoot. It wasn’t unknown for people to do that, of course, to get from the changing rooms down to the part of the center he’d just left, but he was carrying items he could be wearing.

  He’d almost reached the safety of the staff room when the three women who had been bitching about Adele emerged from the ladies’ changing rooms, blocking his way. He tried to duck past them but they moved in unison to prevent him getting away.

  The brunette spoke. “Hey, Oliver. What are you doing wandering around with no top on? Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

  The three women cackled, ogling his nude body and making him feel as though he were a piece of meat. He didn’t respond, instead continuing to try to get away from them.

  “What’s the rush?” One of the blondes spoke this time. “Can’t you stay and talk to us for a while? I must say I’m enjoying the view.” Her gaze slid down to his crotch and Oliver felt heat rising up his chest, neck and face, and not the erotic kind. It was the kind that was produced by anger and the sensation filled him until he could keep quiet no longer.

  “I haven’t got time for this! Please just get out of my way!” The words he’d spoken could have been a lot worse, and he hadn’t sworn, but he still felt his heart lurch in his chest as he thought about what could happen if the three women decided to lodge a complaint against him. He doubted he’d lose his job straight out—he had a perfect record—but he’d certainly be in for a disciplinary.

  Realizing he absolutely had to get away before he said or did anything else, he turned and dashed down the corridor in the opposite direction, taking refuge in the men’s changing rooms for a good fifteen minutes until he was sure they’d gone.

  God, how had the day gone so wrong? It had started off just fine, then gotten better when he’d discovered Adele alone in the sauna. Then it had skated downhill at an alarming rate. He didn’t give a shit about the bitches, but he cared deeply about rectifying things with Adele. Even if she thought he was a complete moron and didn’t see him in a romantic light, he had to try to make it up to her. He couldn’t leave things as they were. It would drive him crazy.

  Chapter Three

  Adele stared after Oliver as he scarpered from the sauna. What the fuck had just happened? One minute he’d been making her feel better about the three witches and the next he’d been telling her he liked her—in that way.

  It had been so long since a man had come on to her—it seemed there was an extreme shortage of men in her area who liked the larger lady—that she’d forgotten what it was like, how things worked, how she should respond. As a result, she’d gawped very unattractively at him until he’d run away screaming. Okay, not screaming, but he’d been moving pretty fast.

  Well, that was that, she decided. Oliver had liked her but now she’d managed to scare him off and the poor guy would probably never speak to her again. Gone were the nods and smiles, the little waves. She’d probably driven him into the arms of those horrible women. They had been perving on him, after all. He could clearly take his pick and she wouldn’t blame him if he did, though he’d said he didn’t find them attractive. For all their faults and unpleasantness, at least they knew what they wanted and went after it. She’d spent months sneaking covert glances at the hunky lifeguard and that was pretty much it. He’d have to have been a mind reader to realize that she was attracted to him too. And now she’d blown it. It served her bloody right.

  Grr. It looked as if she would have to resort to online dating after all. She’d been hoping it wouldn’t come to that, but it appeared that if she didn’t want to be single forever, then she’d have to give it a go. At least if she was upfront about her size and posted a recent photo on her profile, then men simply wouldn’t connect with her if they didn’t like the look of her. She wouldn’t even know about the rejections, so she couldn’t be hurt and upset by them. It was the perfect solution—there had to be an eligible bachelor out there who wouldn’t be put off by her weight. She knew for a fact that some men positively adored big girls. Some of them even paid Rubenesque chicks to sit on them and stuff like that. She wasn’t into that kind of thing herself, but at least it proved that not every man on the planet preferred slim girls.

  There was someone out there for her, she knew it. She’d just have to be patient until he emerged from the woodwork. And hope like hell that she liked him too.

  * * * * *

  At work later that afternoon, Adele hummed away happily as she put the finishing touches to a chocolate cheesecake and popped it into the fridge, where it would wait patiently until that evening when the pub resumed serving food after the afternoon break. It always went down a treat, the chocolate cheesecake, so it was one of the things she made most often, but not all the time. For her, the beauty of running an independent place was that there was no set menu to adhere to, no stock shipped in from a central warehouse to stick in an oven or throw into a fryer. Everything was made from scratch, and the offering was never the same two days running.

  The customers appreciated it too. She often got messages passed on to her through the restaurant staff, and sometimes she was even asked to come out into the restaurant and receive her compliments in person. Adele hated that, partly because she was convinced that one day it was going to be a complaint, not a compliment, and partly because she knew people looked at her and thought it typical that such a skilled chef was overweight. They probably thought that she sampled everything she cooked, which was why she was so big.

  Fortunately, in the five years she’d been working at the Wagon and Horses—ever since she and Alexander had bought the place—she’d only ever received nice comments. She continued to work really hard to ensure it stayed that way, not least because word of mouth, delicious food and good customer service were what helped places like theirs to stay afloat in the tough economic climate. Their competition was fierce—really cheaply priced restaurants that served huge portions—but they were doing just fine, thankfully. So Adele stuck to her way of doing things, as it was clearly working.

  One thing she always did before they started serving food in the evenings was to take a break. Once all her prep was done, she’d make a salad or a sandwich or something and go and eat it in a quiet corner of the restaurant. Hardly anyone came in at bang on five o’clock, and if they did they didn’t usually want food just yet, so she took advantage of that and gave herself a breather before she was forced back into the kitchen, never to be seen again. Until closing time, anyway. Her job was intense and often crazy-busy, but she enjoyed it.

  Today in particular, she’d certainly appreciate the lack of time to think during her shift, given the incident with Oliver. Hopefully she’d be so busy that when she got home she’d collapse into bed after her shower and fall asleep straightaway. Of course, that still left dreams and tomorrow morning for his potential appearance, but she’d just have to take one step at a time.

  Putting a decent-sized salad onto a plate with just the tiniest drizzle of dressing, she headed out into the restaurant and sat down to eat her meal. When she heard the door open, curiosity made her look up to see who’d come into the establishment. When she saw who it was, she gave her arm a pinch to make sure she hadn’t fallen asleep somehow and was dreaming the whole thing. If she was awake, Oliver Shaw had just walked straight out of her conscious thoughts and into her restaurant.

  He didn’t see her, tucked away as she was, and he headed directly to the bar. God, perhaps he was as upset as she was if he was so desperate for a drink that he was here so early. Maybe it was just as well that nothing had happened between them if he turned to alcohol every time there was a minor crisis. Goodness knew what he’d be like if something went really wrong.

  “Excuse me,
” he said to Alexander, who was restocking the fridges behind the bar.

  “What can I get you?” Alex said, standing up and turning around with a grin.

  “No, nothing. Sorry. I’m really sorry to bother you, but could I use your phone please? My car’s just broken down on the road outside your pub, and just to make my day so much worse, my phone battery is dead!”

  Adele watched the proceedings with interest. Really, Alexander would have been quite within his rights to make Oliver use the payphone in the corridor, but he wasn’t that kind of guy. He was decent, polite, fun and good-looking. It was a crying shame that he wasn’t into girls. His partner, Marcus, worked at a local insurance broker’s and helped them out when they were really stuck. He made a mean lemon meringue, too, and it was occasionally added to the menu for the customers.

  The two men lived above the pub and Adele had spent many an evening in their flat watching films and generally having a laugh. She was lucky to have them and she knew it. When she got a chance, she’d tell them about what had happened with Oliver and get their advice. The only reason she hadn’t mentioned him before was because she knew they’d keep pushing her to do something about it, and she liked to do things in her own time.

  “Sure,” Alex said, offering Oliver a sympathetic smile, “no problem…”

  “Oliver. Thanks, mate, you’re a lifesaver.”

  “I’m Alex. And you’re welcome.” The two men shook hands over the bar, then Alex lifted the phone from the shelf beneath the bar and put it in front of Oliver. “Do you need any help moving the car? Is it blocking the road or anything?”

  Oliver shook his head. “No, thankfully. When it started losing power I managed to steer it onto the pavement out front. So it just looks like a really bad parking job.”

  “Well, if the recovery people need to look at it before towing you away, you can use the car park. We won’t be busy for a while. And hey, who knows, people might pull in just to see what’s going on!”

  Oliver laughed, his blue eyes sparkling. “Thanks again, mate. That’s really decent of you. I’ll let you know.”

  With that, he pulled his wallet out and retrieved a credit-card-shaped piece of cardboard, put it down next to the phone, picked up the receiver and dialed the number from the card.

  Adele realized she’d stopped eating as her natural nosiness, and then surprise, had caused her to stare at, and listen to, what was happening with Oliver and his broken-down vehicle. Now she forced herself to keep munching away at her salad, figuring that the sooner she finished, the sooner she could scurry back into her kitchen, and the hunky lifeguard would be none the wiser.

  After pressing a few more buttons—poor Oliver was obviously navigating his way through an automated call system—he finally got through to someone and relayed his problem. He told them where he was, then nodded in response to whatever the person on the other end of the line was saying, uttered his thanks and hung up.

  “All right, mate?” Alex said, putting the phone back in place—he hated things being left lying around.

  “Yeah.” Oliver said, looking downcast. “They said they’ll be here in about an hour. I’m not in a remote area and I’m not a lone woman, so I don’t take precedence. Luckily I was just going home. I finished my shift at work, then did a few chores. Thankfully I didn’t go food shopping, or I would have had a bunch of stuff thawing out in the boot of the car!”

  “We’d have stored it for you,” Alex said. “Now, can I get you a drink or something to eat while you’re waiting?”

  “You’re a gentleman, Alex. Thank you. Yeah, since I’m here, I may as well take advantage. I’ve actually never been in here, though I’ve heard good things. So, what can you recommend?”

  “Drinks or food?”

  “Both, please.”

  “Okay, well do you want alcohol or a soft drink?”

  “Ha. As much as I’d love something boozy to take the edge off my car breaking down, I’d better not. So a soft drink would be great.”

  “Okay, well we’ve got all the usual stuff, fizzy drinks, juices, mineral water…”

  “A pint of Diet Coke would be great, thanks. No ice, please.”

  “Coming up. And as for food, you’d be better off asking my business partner, the chef.”

  Adele froze. She should have known that was coming, especially since she hadn’t given Alex today’s menus yet. Bollocks!

  “Great,” Oliver said, “where is he?”

  “She,” Alex replied. “Adele’s just over there, mate. Hey, sweetie, can you come and let this customer know what you recommend from today’s offerings?”

  “Sure,” she muttered to herself, “I’ll just go and speak to the man that’s embarrassed both of us today. Thanks, Alex.” Then out loud, she replied, “Of course! I’ll just go and pop my plate away and grab the menus.”

  She moved into the kitchen as fast as she could without looking as though she were rushing. Putting her now-empty plate and cutlery into the dishwasher, she gripped the edge of the stainless-steel worktop and squeezed until her hands ached. “He couldn’t have bloody well broken down when Carlos was on, could he? No, it had to be me. Oh, come on, Adele. Might as well face the music. Just think of him as another customer.”

  Grabbing the stack of menus, she pasted a smile onto her face and breezed back out of the swinging door and across to the bar. She pulled a menu from the top of the pile and passed the rest to Alex with a grin.

  “This is Oliver, Adele. His car broke down outside, so he’s having something to eat and drink while he’s waiting.” He placed the promised glass of Diet Coke in front of the lifeguard.

  “I know,” she said, smiling sweetly at both men. “Oliver works at the leisure center.”

  “Oh, you know each other?” Alex said, glancing from one of them to the other, narrowing his eyes as they alighted on Adele’s face. “Well then, I’ll leave you to it.”

  He disappeared into the storeroom. Needlessly, Adele thought. He could have stayed and backed her up, stopped the conversation from becoming awkward. But then, of course, he didn’t know about anything that had happened, so why would he do that? He probably just thought he was giving her a much-needed opportunity to spend some time with a fit bloke. Normally she’d have wanted to hug him for such a gesture, but right now she wanted to drag him back, kicking and screaming.

  She chastised herself. She shouldn’t be thinking horrible things about her friend and business partner just because he’d done something nice for her—or at least he thought he had. It wasn’t his fault she was having a bit of an issue with Oliver.

  “Right,” she said, realizing she should break the silence before it got even more awkward, “what sort of thing do you like? The menu is different every day because I make everything from scratch and like to change things up.”

  “I didn’t know you worked here.”

  She tore her gaze from the menu and looked up into Oliver’s confused gaze. “Well it didn’t really come up, did it?” She didn’t mean to sound so bitchy but, well, it was the truth. “Yes, I work here. I’m part-owner and head chef. My staff will be here soon for when we get busier.”

  “Oh, right.” He paused. “Well I ought to order something before you’re swamped, and before someone comes to fix my car. I like pretty much anything. Give me a couple of recommendations and I’ll choose something.”

  Chapter Four

  Oliver froze his face into a congenial expression as Adele walked to the kitchen, and kept it there until the door swung closed behind her. Then he let his head drop to the bar in despair. Could his day possibly get any worse? The sauna incident, then the three bimbos harassing him in the corridor, his car breaking down, his phone battery being flat…he’d thought he’d had a lucky break when the guy behind the bar—Alex—had said he could use the phone. Then he’d realized that he’d inadvertently walked into Adele’s workplace.

  Granted, he wanted to make things up to her, but he didn’t quite know how. And right now h
e was feeling so stressed that he couldn’t get his brain to work properly. He supposed complimenting her cooking and the establishment would help, but beyond that he didn’t know where to start.

  “Things that bad?”

  Oliver started. He hadn’t heard Alex come back into the bar area. “I’m all right. Just a bit wound up, that’s all.”

  “Why, what the hell did she say to you?” Alex jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen doors, a genuinely confused expression on his face.

  “It’s a long story.”

  Alex looked around. “You’re the only customer in here right now, so I have all the time in the world. Tell me all about it. Maybe I can help, especially if Adele’s involved. I know her pretty well.”

  Oh, fuck. That was all he needed. He was sitting at the bar, talking to Adele’s damn boyfriend! It was official, this was the worst day of his life. Only someone who was dying could top it. “Are you two, er…?”

  Alex laughed and slapped the bar. “No, no way! She’s a great girl, a gorgeous girl, but she’s not my type. If you see what I mean.”

  Oliver frowned. He couldn’t possibly be slagging off his so-called friend in front of a practical stranger just because she was a big girl? What a bastard. He realized Alex was still staring at him and he was so confused and angry that he couldn’t think of a thing to say, couldn’t seem to get his lips, tongue and voice box working together to form a response.

  Fortunately Alex put him out of his misery. “Mate, I’m gay. That’s why she’s not my type. God, if I was straight, she’d be at the top of my list. If she’d have me.”

  “Oh. Oh!” Oliver heaved a huge sigh of relief. “So is she single, then?”

  Alex narrowed his eyes. “Why do you want to know?”

  Oliver felt his cheeks heat up, and he grabbed his glass of Coke and fiddled with it, staring as the bubbles fizzed up and popped at the surface.