by Lila Younger
“Want some?”
“I’m okay.” I’m uncomfortable with the idea of just taking someone’s stuff, but she just shrugs and sprays more onto her neck and wrists.
“What’s your name again?” she asks.
“Noelle.”
“Never heard of that one before.”
“What’s yours again?”
“Melly,” she says. “Short for Melody.”
I don’t say anything, but it doesn’t seem like Melly cares. She’s busy with the hairspray now, throwing her hair forward so she can get as much volume out of the roots as possible. Next she readjusts her breasts in the top, pushing as much of it out the top as possible. I stand awkwardly, trying to do everything I can but watch her. I was a nerd growing up. Braces, glasses, all gangly knees and elbows. I didn’t bother with makeup because I knew there was no saving my looks. ‘You’ll grow into it,’ my mom always promised me. I didn’t believe her until high school graduation, when I’d finally hit puberty and developed my modest curves. I spent high school hiding my nose in a book instead of learning how to talk to a guy and it shows. Not that there was anyone worth talking to.
Except Andrew... I think idly. The image of him, his body hard and strong, his eyes bluer than the ocean, pops into my mind before I can stop it from happening. Andrew was... unreachable. Like Brad Pitt or Johnny Depp. I could wish for it for the rest of my life and I knew there was no way we could be. And not just because he’s sex on two legs. He’s older, my dad’s age in fact, and probably only sees me as his best friend’s kid. And who would ever find that attractive? It doesn’t help that even now, I’ve got the round face and the large eyes of an innocent. Maybe that was why I rebelled so hard in my second year of college. I was determined to shrug off my reputation as a good little girl. I really shouldn’t be thinking about him right now though. This is my first day, and I need to focus.
I need this job badly. Because of my need to prove something to everyone else, I lost my scholarship at the end of my second year of university. It was my fault, but I don’t want to tell my mom and dad that. Instead, I got this job. According to Lana, who sat next to me in Intro to Marketing, she could make almost $200-$300 in tips alone on a busy game night. I just need to flirt a little and show off my body. It seemed easy enough when she said it. Now I wasn’t so sure.
“Okay let’s go,” Melly says at last.
It’s a busy Thursday night. The game will be on in a couple hours, but for right now, half the restaurant is still empty. Melly goes through everything with me- what I need to do, what the customer wants me to do, and when I’ll need to call over the bouncer, Steve.
“And you will need to call them. So don’t feel bad about it. There’ll always be other paying customers.”
I wonder just how many customers they kick out in a night. I hope there won’t be any tonight. I’m already feeling self conscious about the glances I’m getting from the guys at the bar. Their glances that sweep me from head to toe are so brazen. It’s nothing like what I’m used to. The last place I worked at was a family restaurant, and the men there knew to keep their eyes to themselves for the most part.
“So that’s about it,” Melly says, hands on her hips. “Any questions?”
“No?” Even though I know this isn’t like a strip club, I still feel like the men at the bar are peeling the clothes off of me. I already know I’m hunching my back a little, trying to make myself look smaller. I’m so distracted by it that I didn’t even hear half of what Melly was saying.
“Okay, well you better get out there.” She juts her chin at the men. “I think they’re looking thirsty.”
I swallow. My first customers. I can do this, I tell myself as I make my way over to their end of the bar. It’s just a job. It’s just a job. It’s just a job. I repeat this to myself over and over during the course of the night. Melly’s at the bar too, to make sure that I do everything right. She laughs, tosses her hair, and flirts easily with the customers, pulling in the kind of tips that Lana promised me I’d get. My mantra helps me relax a little, and I’m even starting to smile a few times.
To be honest, the job isn’t terrible. After I get past the few guys who look at me like a piece of meat, I’m able to just focus on pouring drinks. The college guys are piling into the bar now, lured by the promise of cheap pitchers with the football game. One of them even asks for my number, but I turn him down quickly. My first relationship in college was pathetic, and I’m not ready to repeat the experience. He came after five minutes of grunting and fell asleep right after. I remember staring at the popcorn ceiling in his lumpy bed wondering why the hell people go to such great lengths to get laid. No thanks.
Just when I think everything’s gone smoothly for my first shift, the night takes a turn for the worse. It starts when an older guy, with greasy mullet streaked hair and a ripped sleeveless shirt walks in. Melly raises her eyebrows at me, then tilts her head at Steve. Her meanings clear. This guy was going to be trouble. He sits down at my section of the bar and I go over, hoping that my gut was wrong. It isn’t.
“Hi, what can I get for you tonight?”
“I’ll have a Bud Light and a double cheeseburger.”
I smile. Easy, I think. But the grin he gives me is aimed right at my breasts, and automatically I know he’s going to be a slimeball. At first he sticks to leers, but after another two pints, he starts to whistle every time I bend to get a glass or lean forward over the bar. I know I could call Steve over, but I hate making a scene. It’s my first day after all, and I’ve dealt with drunks before. Surely he’s got to leave sometime?
“Are you all done or do you still have room for dessert?” I ask brightly as I pick up his empty plate.
“Only if it’s you and a can of whipped cream on this bar,” he says.
I can tell he thinks he’s being clever, but his slurred words freeze the smile on my face. Men who can’t handle their liquor turns me off, not that I would be attracted to this sleaze.
“That’s not on the menu tonight,” I say, trying to brush his words off as a joke. I shouldn’t have expected him to get the hint.
“So I’ll take it to go,” he says, wobbling forward and invading my space. “When are you off?”
I take a step back automatically. My smile’s completely gone now. The last thing I want is this creep hanging around until my shift ends. And he would stay, I just knew it. Before I could say anything though, a large hand claps his shoulder and yanks him back.
“I think that’s enough out of you,” the man says, his voice quiet but steely. “Why don’t you get out of here before you make a bigger idiot out of yourself.”
I have no clue who my savior is, but I take the chance and head straight for Steve. After I explain to him what’s going on, he goes to throw the redneck out. It looked like he wanted to put up a fight, but Steve’s 250 lbs and built like a tank. There was no way he was going to win that battle. But I still hold my breath until the guy’s been booted out the front doors. Then I sag against the hallway to the employee room. There’s only ten minutes left on the clock, but I don’t think I could go back out there.
“Noelle?”
It’s my rescuer. I look up and I’m so surprised my jaw drops. What the hell is he doing here?!
“A-Andrew?”
I can feel the burn beneath my cheeks and my voice rises to a squeak by the end of his name. God I sound stupid. Of course it’s Andrew. I couldn’t mistake that face if I tried. It’s been burned into my brain from years of hormonal teenage desire. He’s changed his hair, letting it grow out since the last time I saw him. There’s a few more creases on his brow, and he’s in a suit, but it’s definitely my dad’s best friend. I remember the broad shoulders, his body sculpted and lean from being outdoors. The smile’s the same too, dashing and playful, as if the two of us are sharing a secret. He’s always been like that, friendly and charming, ever since I can remember. When my friends were arguing over whether they should be on Team Edward or Team Jac
ob, I was busy daydreaming about Team Andrew.
Not that I ever really said much to him. He’s my dad’s friend, which meant he is definitely too old for me. I tried to stay out of the way because I could never maintain eye contact or string two sentences together around him. It was just a silly high school crush, and when he started up his own company and became too busy to hang around my family anymore, I thought I got over him. But clearly, judging from my reaction, this isn’t the case. I still want him with every part of me. But this was not how my fantasy usually goes. I look like an idiot and I want to just melt through the floor. His eyes flicker over my outfit before coming back to my face. I self-consciously cross my arms over my vest, but it just shoves my boobs higher, so I put them down again.
“What are you doing here?” I blurt out in a rush. I wish I didn’t sound so high pitched. It makes me sound young, and the last thing I want is for him to think I’m still a girl. It’s just so unexpected. Andrew just doesn’t seem to me like the kind of guy who visits these kinds of establishments. In fact, I’m a little upset that he does.
“My friend is trying to convince me to invest in the concept. I didn’t expect to see you here though.”
Crap! I forgot that I wasn’t supposed to be here. My brain skitters, trying to think up some kind of explanation. But I suck at thinking on my feet. Everything just blanks.
“Please don’t tell my dad,” I say instead. “He’d have a heart attack.”
Andrew and my dad have a weekly golfing session. They’ve never ever skipped it. The two of them go way back. They were both foster kids in a terrible neighborhood, and Andrew kept the other kids from beating up my dad. After high school they joined the army together. They didn’t expect to end up in Afghanistan, but they did. My dad still never talks about it, but Andrew always said that my dad saved his life there. To say that they are best friends is to downplay the bond between the two of them.
“I’m not going to say anything,” he says at last. “But it sure is good to see you Noelle. You’ve... grown up a lot.”
“Thanks,” I say, playing it cool. Did he notice that I’d finally developed some curves? Or did he just mean I wasn’t wearing braces anymore? “Congratulations on going public with your company by the way.”
“You’ve heard?” he sounds surprised but pleased.
“Dad mentioned it.”
Of course, it wasn’t just that. I’ve been following Andrew and his company for years now. It’s like a little hobby for me. When I’ve got a spare moment at the bus stop, or sometimes between classes I’ll just look him up and see if there’s any news. It took me almost 3 hours to decide to friend him on Facebook back in high school. I agonized over the seconds, wondering what he thought of me until he had accepted a few hours later. And then it was like I’d gotten the keys to the kingdom. I binged on his photos, his wall, his posts, learning all I could about the man I’d been mildly (okay maybe not so mildly) obsessed with since I could remember.
There was that one time when he’d put up a picture of him with some other woman. I couldn’t figure out if that meant they were dating, and I scoured her profile too. I even dyed my hair red like hers. I was a kid with a crush, and I had it bad. Even now the memory makes me cringe. I hope I hadn’t been too obvious.
Who was I kidding? Of course he had to know. When has a teenage girl ever been subtle about their crushes?
“I’m thinking up some new projects. I might head into venture capitalism instead. Building up a company is much more exciting than running one.”
“Oh, of course,” I say, nodding along like I actually know all about how to build a company from scratch. “Totally more exciting.”
Why can’t I sound like a grown up instead of some ditzy kid? I want to shrink up and run before I make a bigger fool of myself. I’d practised what I would say if I bumped into Andrew, but of course I can’t remember a single word of it right now.
A beat passes, and I find myself staring at his face, studying it for later. Seriously, it should be illegal to look this good. He could get away with anything, his face is so perfect. His eyes, framed by thick dark lashes. The slope of his Roman nose. The fullness of his lips and how great it would be to kiss them. The curve of his jaw tickling my face with its stubble... There’s barely two feet of space between us in this dim little hallway. How easy could it be to lean forward just a step? To find out what he tasted like and if his lips were as soft as they looked? We were all alone, in a back part of the restaurant that most patrons don’t go to. The idea is both exciting and terrifying. I mean, what were the chances that he’d be here tonight? It’s like a sign from above. All those years of birthday wishing have come true! Good thing it’s dark here, because my cheeks are definitely flushed now.
“Well, I better let you go then,” he says abruptly. “Don’t want to get you in trouble.”
I’m jolted out of my fantasy and I feel completely unbalanced. He opens his arm in a hug, and I step forward automatically. His body is sturdy and warm, and I have to do everything I can not to squeeze my arms tight. I really don’t want to let go. I try not to be too obvious as I take in a breath of him. He smells like wood and leather, and something darker that’s distinctive and refined, just like he is. It’s completely different than the Axe body spray worn by half the customers in here. I want to remember it forever, but he’s already pulling away and I’m left with nothing.
“Maybe I’ll see you again soon Noelle.”
He goes back out to the restaurant without a backward glance. I’m dazed by the whole thing, though I manage to wait until he turns the corner to sag against the wall. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why couldn’t I have sounded like the intelligent, confident woman I always want to be in my daydreams? I could have told him that my shift was over, and that I’d love to catch up. I could have said that I was going into business too, and I would love to pick his brains if he wants to get together for coffee. A million things I could have done, and it’s not until he’s gone that I remember. Why oh why do I have to sound like I’m still a bumbling, innocent girl instead of a sexy grown woman?
Get my novella What Her Dad Doesn’t Know here.
About Lila Younger
Lila has spent her whole life in the PNW, where rainy days kept her inside with a book. A lover of the written word, she can’t believe that it’s taken her over twenty years to get around to writing a book. She’s always believed in love at first sight and happily ever afters. When she isn’t working on her stories, Lila likes to bake and hike in the mountains that make up her backyard.