by Sara Ney
By the time 5:00 rolls around, my stomach is growling.
I text Jenna: im starving.
Stuffing the phone in my messenger bag, I head out to my Jeep and sit waiting in the parking lot at the base of the grassy ski hill. I haven't even put the key in the ignition yet, because if Jenna texts me back and wants to grab something to eat with me, then I'll have to turn an entirely different direction once I get out of the parking lot.
So I wait.
My phone buzzes.
Jenna: we literally just ate. still @ mcdonalds. want me to grab something with you anyways?
I type back: no worries. running to grab mongolian, its been an age.
Jenna: no value menu?one dollar, hollar!
Me: i'll just go sit in a corner somewhere. alone...
Jenna: don't talk to any perverts.
Me: darn I was planning on it.
Sighing, I start my ignition and quickly lean over to feel around inside my bag to see if there's a book I can read while sitting at the restaurant. Kyoto Grill is one of my new favorite places to eat; basically you build your own stir-fry and slap everything you picked out to eat onto a 500 degree stone. The only problem I have is the bowl they give you to fill is never big enough! I literally have to pile all the ingredients on my bowl until it resembles a mini-mountain. Then, my vegetables always topple off before I make it to the chef, and that's pretty embarrassing. But the food is fantastic (in my opinion) not to mention healthy, and since the place is relatively new it's never crowded.
On a few occasions I've been the only patron there.
So not twenty five minutes later, I'm all set in a corner booth at Kyoto: a steaming hot plate of stir-fry, a somewhat racy teen romance (that Jenna borrowed to me, of course), and my iPod. I set my phone on the table and put in my ear buds, deciding that maybe a mellow playlist would be best - after all, I can't really read if I've got Drake blasting in my ears.
I take a few bites of my dinner, which is a combination of noodles and vegetables that taste amazing, and open my book to the ear-marked page. I don't read very often, but this book has managed to keep my interest. Then again, give me the name of one teenage girl who can resist a story about a good girl secretly crushing on the schools bad boy... Clever girl that I am, the irony isn't lost on me.
My phone buzzes.
Jenna: find a pervert with a long noodle?
Me: lol. leave me alone i'm eating.
Jenna: don't choke. and text me so I know you survived.
Me: Yes mom :p
Jenna: don't talk 2 stranglers.
Jenna: dammit autocorrect! *strangers.
Giggling, I stuff my mouth with a fork full of rice noodles. They're so delicious I close my eyes and moan out loud - every bite is totally worth the torture of a day spent working with Erin. In my opinion, it's a reward that's been truly earned.
And I mean to savor it.
As I start the beginning of a new chapter in my book, the steady stream of music pumps from the iPod, through my ear buds, and into my ears. I casually bop along to the rhythm of "You should have (kissed me)" by Glorianna. I just can not get enough of this romantic playful song, even though it's an older song. I'm the type of person who, when they really like a tune, they listen to it over and over, and that's why I've listened to this one...oh...about a thousand times.
I adjust the volume on my iPod, turning it down a tad. It's at that moment that I look up and almost choke on my food.
Standing in the entry of the dining room holding a plate of his own, is Weston. Only I can't figure out if he's some figment of my imagination I've conjured up because I can't stop thinking about him - or if he's really standing there. I almost rub my eyes in disbelief but stop myself.
Unfortunately, I'm not hallucinating.
Fortunately I don't think he sees me yet, so I slouch down holding the book up to my face, hoping to conceal the fact that I'm both chewing and swallowing frantically. Why does this damn book have a young couple holding hands on the cover of it? Curse Jenna and her smut.
I literally have noodles hanging from my mouth, and I can't suck them in fast enough.
Shit, shit, double shit. This is humiliating.
Well, not like I've never been humiliated before. I mean, I could tell you about the one time on April Fool's Day a few years back when Jenna cut boob holes in the front of my gym shirt, like Regina George from Mean Girls - but ugh! Never mind. That is so not my point here.
"Hey. Mind if I keep you company?"
Please god let the earth just open up and swallow me whole, I pray. Like, as in right freaking now. Seriously.
I look up to see Weston standing there in his masculine glory staring down at me with expectation in his eyes - one hand holding his dinner and one hand stuffed in the pocket of his black Adidas athletic pants. His hair is wet, presumably from the shower he took after his game.
There is a red gash in his bottom lip that's obviously new.
Holy shit is it hot.
Stop staring at his lips, Molly. Stop it.
I must have hesitated far too long because those amazing lips hitch up into a small smile and he shrugs, "It's cool. I didn't mean to bother you." He says the words but makes no effort to walk away.
"No, no. It's fine. You surprised me that's all." I shut the book and slam it down onto the table, pushing it upside down to the corner of the table. "I usually have the place to myself."
"Yeah?" That one uttered word has a lilt to it that sends heat racing through my body in places that have long been dormant. I resist the urge to visibly shiver as I invite him to share my booth.
"Yeah. Here, sit."
Weston slides into the booth with a gracefulness you wouldn't expect from a guy his size. Setting his plate down, he unrolls his utensils from the paper napkin - than its fork on the left side of the plate, knife on the right. He shocks me even further by laying the napkin across one knee.
My, my, such good table manners.
He clears his throat, than says "I don't think we've ever really been introduced. I'm Wes." He is holding his hand across the table for me to shake, and I stare at it like he intends to shock me with a Taser. Large and calloused, this is the hand of a guy who's seen his share of hard work.
I unintentionally slide my hand slowly into his palm, sending a ripple of sensations coursing through my body. His hand is steady and warm, and suddenly I'm in no rush to leave.
"I'm Molly." My voice is soft, just above a whisper.
"Hi, Molly," His voice is like satin sliding across my skin.
Say my name again, please.... Just once more....
I don't think I've ever met a boy with a voice this baritone and erotic. Take Bryan Bossner for example: at 17 years old, his voice still cracks if he's shouting in gym class. Suddenly it's makes more sense to me why girls always seem to be fawning over Weston McGrath - it's not because of the hockey, and it's not because he's so damn good looking. Nope. It's because his voice could charm the pants off a nun.
I mean, if nuns wore pants.
Finally releasing my hand, Weston points at his ears. "What are you listening to?" He is already digging into his pasta, which has steam rising from it.
"Huh? Oh my gosh!" How rude of me! Quickly I remove my ear buds and wind them around my iPod, setting them on top of my book.
He chuckles, low and deep in this chest and I can't help it - I shiver.
"Cold?"
Oh my god, shoot me now.
"Um, sort of. I left my sweater in the car." To validate my lie, I rub my hands up and down my arms a few times and say "Brrr...."
I am such an idiot. The action must have drawn Weston's attention to my shirt, which is a navy tee bearing the resorts logo where I work. He raises his eyebrows.
"You work at Mount Olympia?"
I nod. "Yup. In the gift shop. Nothing all that exciting, but I do get a lift ticket every season for half off, so...."
"No shit. You board?"
"Why, do you consider
yourself boring?" I tease.
He screws his face up and looks at me like I've lost my mind. "No Molly, I meant do you snowboard."
Seriously, an idiot...
"Um, no. I ski actually - what about you?"
"Yeah, I board. Well, not as much as I used to because of, you know. Hockey."
I nod in understanding. "I can imagine that you're crazy busy."
Across from me, Weston starts fiddling with his fork, pushing a few noodles around on his plate. He looks at me directly and what comes out of his mouth next genuinely dumbfounds me. "Look Molly, about the other day at school...I..." he pauses and lets out a long breath. "I can't stop thinking about how Rick treated you, and...well. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't step in and tell him to shove off. He's an asshole and you seemed really..." he searches for a word. "Kind of scared."
I process this information. "It's okay. I mean. Yeah, I was a little freaked out but...I survived." I feel like I'm stumbling over my words.
"Well...if you want me to beat the crap out of him for you, I will." He smiles and we both laugh.
"I can see the headlines now, 'Local guy gets butt kicked for acting like... a guy."
"Ah, come on Molly, we're not all complete assholes."
WESTON
"You talk cute." (what I want to say when Molly is speaking) - Weston
As I'm saying the words 'We're not all complete assholes' Molly's bright green eyes get real wide and she gives me this dubious stare like she doesn't believe a word coming out of my mouth. Which I guess makes sense, because sometimes even I don't believe a word coming out of my mouth.
We guys are kind of all assholes.
It's not like it's a big secret. Even so, I'm not going to admit that out loud.
I stare at Molly for a few seconds.
I can't help it, I really can't: she's just so goddamn adorable. And as I wonder why she's single, she gets quiet and her cheeks start getting a little red. Her fork hovers over her plate, and I think she's about to say something in protest. Instead she shrugs, nodding slowly. "Yeah, okay. Maybe you're not."
Ah shit, she has freckles across her nose. The kind you want to lean in and kiss one by one.
How cute is that?
"You can't judge us all because one guys today treated you like shit. Right?"
"So you're saying you're not an asshole?" Molly tips her head and looks at me, and lazily starts to trail her fork around her plate, pushing noodles this way and that. She rests her chin in the palm of her other hand with a small smile on her face. I notice she has the shadow of a dimple in her right cheek. "All right. I believe you."
Chapter Seven
MOLLY
"Once I walked in on my brother belting out the words to a Hanna Montana song. The person who said 'No one looks stupid when they're having fun' was a liar. Charlie looked like an idiot." - Ella Beauchamp, Soccer teammate
"So really. What were you listening to?" Weston asks again.
"You're not just going to sit quietly and let me eat, are you?"
His response is to laugh out loud. The sound is crazy wonderful - low, rich and vibrating deep within his chest. His very...muscular...chest. I preen with the satisfaction that I've made this god-like teenager laugh, knowing it's because I've surprised him with my bluntness.
I huff a sigh for show before answering, and swallow my embarrassment. "You've probably never heard of it."
"Try me." He leans forward, flexes his biceps and slowly begins twirling some noodles around his fork... stabs a few vegetables... takes a large bite. A lock of hair falls in his eyes.
He doesn't bother brushing it away.
And yeah, I totally want to do it for him.
"You don't seem like the type of guy that enjoys romantic girly songs," I give him a sideways glance, eying him skeptically.
He considers this, than nods his head. "You would be correct. But now inquiring minds want to know - just what is on that iPod of yours Molly Wakefield."
Dear Lord, he's teasing me and I love it.
Love it, love it.
I love that he keeps saying my name - not just the way he's saying my name, but the simple fact that it's on his lips! I love the way his mouth moves when he's talking: his battered bottom lip slightly crooked when he smiles - and how his voice gets animated.
I suddenly find myself developing a titanic sized crush on him. It's instantaneous, like a bucket of cold reality that has just come crashing down on my head.
I clear my throat. "Okay, fine. But after I tell you let's eat. I'm starving and you're already one step ahead of me." I point to his half eaten plate of food with my fork; meanwhile, I've barely touched mine. I can tell he's amused, and wonder where all of this bravado on my part is coming from.
However, in this situation, it's best to play it cool.
With a guy like Weston McGrath - a guy who has groupies - the only females who are going to stand out are those who can resist him. Give him a challenge. Play hard to get.
Weston eyes up my food thoughtfully and points to my plate. "Just so you know, anything you don't eat by the time I'm done with my food, I'm going to try and steal." He says this very matter-of-factly.
"That's the best you've got? You're only going to try and steal it?" As these coy words are rolling off my tongue, my eyes drift. I notice that one of his bottom teeth is chipped and my eyes linger once again to that cut on his lip. It's swollen and there is dry blood in the corner of his mouth.
Without realizing it, my tongue darts out and I run it slowly over my bottom lip.
He studies me with his head cocked and doesn't say anything for a few heartbeats.
He shakes his head and blinks. "So....the song you were listening to..."
His persistence is irritating - and also incredibly adorable.
"I'm beginning to feel like this is a battle of wills." I set down my fork. "Fine you big baby. I'll tell you, but the song is old." I finger the tablecloth, and feel my face getting hot.
I know what you're thinking: why is she making this such a big deal?! Um, because, I'm listening to a song about love and kissing and now he wants me to blurt it out. I don't want him to get the wrong idea. Well. A perverse part of me does... The part that wants to stand up, walk over to his side of the booth, and crawl onto his lap.
Holy crap where did that come from? I'm not sure how I feel about this saucy Molly Wakefield taking control of my body.
Newsflash: my hormones seem to have kicked in and are full-fledged raging. Well, I better cool it down because despite his intensity, he's not even really flirting.
Inhaling I quickly blurt out "Youshouldhavekissedme."
"What? Wait. What?" his eyebrows shoot up into his shaggy hairline and the play of expressions on his gorgeous face is priceless. Somewhere between 'I can't believe my luck' and 'get me the hell out of here.'
I laugh. "The song is called 'you should have kissed me.' It's by Gloriana. Seriously, get your mind out of the gutter." I twirl some noodles around my fork and blow on it.
"I hate to break it to you Molly, but my mind is already in the gutter." Weston winks at me. "I dumped it back there on my way in to the building."
He winks again.
Okay. Definitely flirting.
Do people still swoon, or am I laying on the drama a little too heavily? Because dear lord, right now I could pass out and die.
Then I have this sudden random thought: if I were delusional like Erin from work, that wink would constitute an invitation to the Fall Formal dance. I almost giggle out loud at the thought, but catch myself and just do a generic eye roll instead.
"So wait, wait, wait. The song is about making out?" Weston stuffs more noodles into his face and wiggles his eyebrows. "Tell me more."
"Yes. No... It's basically about..." I pause to think about this and screw my face up in thought. "Mmm... It's basically about a girl arriving home from a date that she thought went great. But, her date doesn't kiss her good-night and naturally she wonders why."
I ignore him and continue, warming up to my topic. "The girl watches him through her curtains sitting in his car - he can't decide if he should go back or not - but then he finally he does run back up to the house."
"And then what? They make out?" He sounds like an excited little kid, and at the same time I can feel him looking at my lips. The scrutiny is intense, and I resist the urge to lick them again.
I'm tempted. So very tempted - just to see what would happen.
"Well, yeah, I guess. But not like that...."
He puts down his fork and stares at me. "Okay. Like how then?"
He's completely serious.
I wave my hand around in the air, trying to conjure up an explanation. No words come out: I cannot believe I'm having this conversation with Weston McGrath of all people. The very first time we formally meet.
"Look, just forget it."
"Hell no I won't forget it! Are you trying to drive me nuts? You know what? Here, give me your iPod. I'll just listen to it myself." He doesn't wait for me to hand it to him. Nope. The brute leans across the table and snaps up the iPod, its small size dwarfed by his large hands.
His bare arms are tan, toned, and now that we're sitting here and he's distracted, I can openly study his tattoo. It's an intricate design starting in the middle of his forearm and ending at his muscular shoulder blade. It looks like it might actually end even farther under his shirt - like maybe his collarbone, but from where I'm sitting it's hard to tell. And, I can definitely make out a few objects: the Ravens mascot, a crucifix, and a girl's name (Zoe, I think?) all woven into a tapestry of Celtic designs. It is entirely black.
Weston has my ear buds in and is adjusting the volume of my pink Nano.
I can tell that the song is on because his eyes settle on mine.
You should have kissed me: such a wistful and romantic song. I recently discovered it, and could listen to it over and over. Even though I can't hear the song playing myself, I can hear the words and rhythm playing in my head. "I should have kissed you...I should have pushed you up against the wall....I should have kissed you, just like I wasn't scared at all...."