by Jacob Chance
Sensing someone’s gaze, I glance over and find Grace frozen in the doorway. Her eyes narrow and I realize what this must look like to her. Before I can jump up and make my way over, she gets swallowed up by the rest of her teammates as they flood the deck. I lose sight of her red hair and rise to my feet.
“Are we leaving?” Sandy stands up.
“No, we’re not doing anything. I’m getting a beer.” She scowls as I turn away. I think I made myself clear. Maybe I was an asshole about it, but she doesn’t respond well to subtlety.
I pass through the slider and into the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge. Kicking the door closed with my foot, the glass bowls on top of the rectangular appliance wobble inside one another, clinking together before settling into silence once more.
Grabbing the bottle opener on the counter, I snap off the cap and throw it in the sink with the pile of others lying there. I don’t live here, not my problem. I set the opener down on the counter and lean back against the cabinets. Taking a deep pull of my beer, I swallow it down, sighing with satisfaction. Nothing beats an ice cold beer on a hot day. Except maybe an ice cold beer with Grace.
Swiping another green bottle from the fridge, I nudge the door closed with my hip and tuck the bottle under my arm. It would be easier to put my own beer down, but common sense doesn’t weigh in when you’re in a hurry. Popping the top, I drop the cap and opener into the sink and grab the bottle with my free hand.
Once I’m back on the deck I scan the area for a sign of Grace. She didn’t come inside so I know she’s out here. I find her in the far corner talking to Nolan. They’re smiling at one another and standing close. What the fuck? How does he know her? Throwing her head back, she laughs at something he said and my fingers clench the bottles.
My feet are in motion before I’m cognizant I’m moving. Ignoring the numerous shouts of hello thrown my way, my only focus is getting to her and putting an end to whatever’s going on.
“Hey, Grace.” I stop in front of them. “This is for you.” I hand her the beer, watching as her pink tipped fingers grasp it.
“Thank you?” Her words sound like a question.
“I know it’s your favorite kind,” I explain. See how thoughtful I am.
“Yeah, thanks again.” She seems anything but impressed. Is she irritated by my gesture? She seems it, but why? Christ. This girl’s mind is like the most difficult logic puzzle ever created. Killer Sudoku, anyone?
“No work tonight?”
“Well, I am here, and since I can’t be in two places at one time…” Her words trail off. Why am I acting like a bumbling idiot who can’t make conversation with girls?
“Did you get your history assignment written yet?” What the fuck? That’s the best I’ve got?
“No. We have four more days so it didn’t seem too urgent. Did you?”
“Yeah. I finished it this morning after practice.” Her eyes widen with surprise. Do I seem pathetic to her? Or is she shocked that I take my work seriously?
“Did you expect a different answer?”
“No. I… maybe.”
“Why?” I stare intently into her eyes and forget that Nolan is standing there beside her.
She pinches her bottom lip between her teeth. “I guess I didn’t imagine you trying that hard.”
“I give one hundred percent in everything I do, Red. Everything.” She visibly swallows and licks her lips as her eyes dart around nervously.
“Grace.” Nolan touches her arm. Her head snaps in his direction and I want to shout no, look at me. “I’m going to grab a beer and say hi to some of my friends.”
She smiles. “I’ll come with you, if that’s okay?”
He grins. “Of course it is.”
Hello. What about me? I’m standing right here, asshole. Stop looking at her. I’m going to kick his ass all around the field tomorrow at practice. She’s mine and no other guy, friend, or not, is going to steal her out from under me.
“I’ll keep you company, Grace,” I offer.
“No, that’s okay. Nolan and I have some of the same friends and I want to say hello too.”
“See ya, T,” Nolan pats me on the back as he walks by.
“Trevor.” Grace nods.
“See you at work, Red.” It comes out sounding more like a warning than a goodbye. She nods and walks away catching up with Nolan where he waits for her. Tipping the bottle back, I down the remainder of the beer and remind myself to calm down. I want to snatch Nolan up by the back of his t-shirt and chuck him over the deck railings.
Owen steps into the open spot next to me. “Calm down, slugger. Nothing’s going on there.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she’s looking at you right now, not him.” Gazing in her direction, our eyes connect and remain locked until she looks away. Why does she fight this attraction we share? It’s so fucking frustrating.
Blowing out a deep sigh, I point at my empty bottle. “I need another beer.”
Tearing off my jersey, I drop it on top of my bag. Undoing the laces on my shoulder pads, I lift them over my head and set them in my locker before collapsing onto the bench. Wiping the dripping sweat from my face and chest with a towel, I try to catch my breath. Practice is brutal in these high temps and humidity. I’m exhausted and halfway to being dehydrated even though I drank more water than I usually do. We’re nearing the end of September, why is it so fucking hot?
Owen sits down next to me with a relieved groan. “Christ, I thought that practice would never end.”
Swiping my face and hair with the towel once more, I nod and down the remainder of the water in my bottle. “I don’t have the strength to take a shower.”
“Me either. I want to pass out and wake up in three days. Coach worked us extra hard because we don’t have a game until Tuesday. We should’ve known he would.”
We both fall silent and watch as Nolan gingerly walks over. He’s limping and pain contorts his face with each step he takes.
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask.
“Dude, you hit me like a freight train. My hip is killing me. What’s up with that?” He scowls.
I smile and think about driving him into the ground with a jarring force. “Hey, college football isn’t for pussies.”
Nolan throws his helmet to the ground and clenches his fists. “Are you calling me a pussy?”
Rising to my feet, I move closer until we’re nose to nose. We might be of similar height, but I’ve got a good thirty pounds on him. “What are you gonna do about it?”
Owen comes up beside us, placing a palm on each of our chests trying to pry us apart. “Guys, don’t do this. It’s only going to fuck the team.” Nolan’s eyes flick toward Owen and I know I’ve won. “What’s going on, T?” Owen questions. He knows it’s not like me to provoke someone for no reason.
“Seems our man Nolan is showing a little too much interest in Grace.” Owen grimaces and I nod. “Yeah, I wasn’t too happy about it either.”
“Grace doesn’t have a boyfriend. I asked her,” Nolan interjects. I step toward him, a murderous expression on my face. “Whoa, whoa.” He holds his hands up to block me from advancing. “Grace and I are friends. That’s all. We’re partners in a marketing class. I like her. She’s nice,” he babbles.
“Yes, she is. She’s perfect and I’m interested in her. Very interested.”
“No worries, man. Like I said, we’re just friends. Do you want me to put in a word for you?”
“Fuck no. I can handle it on my own.”
“Good luck with that. She’s pretty focused on football and school. She barely goes out. I was surprised she went to the party last night.”
“I know she is. I know all about Grace.”
“Dude, she’s not really your type.”
“What do you know about my type, Nolan?”
“Only what I’ve heard.”
“Which is?”
“That you like variety and don’t want to settle down with one
girl.”
“I’m not going to deny that I have been that way in the past, but I’ve been interested in Grace for a while. I don’t see that changing anytime soon. I’m not just looking to get laid, I really like her.”
“Huh.”
“Huh? What?” I’m getting annoyed with this motherfucker.
“I’m just surprised you care for her. I’m glad because I don’t want to see Grace get hurt. She was one of the first people I met here and she deserves the best.”
“You don’t think I’m good enough for her?”
“I don’t know, T. Are you? I think you can be, but the question is will you be?”
Chapter Eleven
Grace
“Hey, boss. How’s it going?”
I glance up from the cash register to nod at Trevor. “It’s going.” I act like the sight of him doesn’t excite me, but it’s not easy to do. I spent yesterday working, practicing, and going to Sunday dinner at my parents’ house. I tried to keep my mind from wandering to thoughts of him, but it was difficult.
His eyes scan the seating area. “It’s really busy in here. Tell me what you need and I’ll help.”
“Grab a pad and pen and take the orders of the last two tables in the back by the windows.”
“Gotcha.” He does as I instructed. I finish counting up change for a customer and then look over to see how Trevor’s doing. He’s capably jotting down orders on the pad, hopefully legibly. The older couple occupying the table are all smiles so he must be doing fine. Thank God. I don’t have time for hand holding right now.
Spinning around, I grab two meals that came up and deliver them to their table. I get lost in the hustle and bustle of the dinner rush, taking orders and delivering food on repeat. I forget about Trevor... I pretend to forget about Trevor. But somehow he seems to be keeping track of which tables I’ve already taken care of even though I didn’t specify which tables were his and mine. I figured since he’s jumping in head first without any real training I’d let him do as much or as little as he’s comfortable with. But he’s actually rather impressive for someone who’s never worked in a restaurant before. He’s either very observant in general, or he is where I’m concerned because he seems to know where I am at all times. Every time I glance up he smiles or winks at me. It’s disconcerting and pleasing at the same time. But that’s Trevor and I. We’re the very definition of a dichotomy. So why is that starting to bother me less with each passing day?
Heading back to the kitchen to see how my dad is faring, I find him singing an Elvis song as he sautes peppers and onions for an omelette.
“How’s it going?”
He peers over his shoulder with a smile just for me. “It’s great, honey. What could be wrong? I’m listening to Elvis, my daughter’s here, and we have a full house. Life is good.” This is the perfect example of how my dad has made it in this industry for as long as he has. Ever optimistic and focused on moving forward, I wish I could be more like him. I tend to wait for the bomb to drop when I least expect it. I’m not sure what’s made me this way. There have been some lean times growing up, but it’s not like I had to do without necessities.
“I’m going to get back to work. I just wanted to make sure you were all set.”
“Yes, you keep putting those orders in and I’ll get them taken care of.”
“Give me a yell if you want a break.” I press a kiss to his grizzled cheek. “I love you, Dad.”
“I love you more, my little fireball.” I smile at the nickname he’s called me for as long as I can remember and then retrace my steps to the front. My eyes seek out Trevor’s large frame and I find him talking to a table of attractive college age girls. One of them has a t-shirt that says Tufts University on the front. Great. Smart and hot. There’s a lot of giggling and eyelash batting going on. I can’t help but roll my eyes. Lord, just trip me and knock me on my ass if I’m ever that obvious.
Grabbing my pad and pen from my apron pocket, I walk toward the table of new customers and take their order. The whole time I’m writing down what they want and interacting with them, I’m completely aware of Trevor’s every move. My teeth clench when he tucks his pad of paper and pen into the back pocket of his jeans and leans his palms on the edge of their table. Does he want to fucking sit down with them? Share a meal? Go home with one of them? Or maybe all of them? He is Trevor fucking Lincoln. The apple probably didn’t fall far from the tree.
Stomping over to the kitchen window, I clip the next order up for dad and when I turn around Trevor is there.
“Easy, Red.” His hand lands on my arm to steady me. I shrug free of his hold.
“I’ll take that.” I snatch the order sheet out of his hand. “I’m going to have you go wash dishes now. They’re starting to pile up back there.” I tip my head toward the kitchen.
“Okay.” His eyes narrow as he studies me. What’s he searching for? Can he tell I’m mad he was flirting? And why do I care so much?
God, I hate the unsettled state of my stomach, like my insides are performing dangerous stunts in the X Games.
Why does he make me feel this way? And why do I let him? Why can’t I stop it once and for all? Caring about someone is hard enough, but when that someone is a wildcard like Trevor, the odds are working against me for sure. Fate is setting me up for a broken heart and I’m not going to fall for it. I can’t allow it. I won’t allow it.
“What’s wrong?” He looks concerned.
“Nothing. Nothing at all. Everything’s great. What could be wrong?” Shut up, Grace. For God sakes stop talking. I somehow manage a tight lipped smile before walking away.
The rest of the shift passes without incident. Everytime I check on Trevor he’s busy washing dishes or helping my father with something.
Maybe I should keep him back there all the time. Then I wouldn’t have to deal with him at all. I can breathe deeper without him watching me, but at the same time I like having him nearby. He’s entertaining to observe. I enjoy the way his blue eyes light up when he laughs, and his crooked smile is enough to make my knees weak, especially when it’s directed at me.
“Grace?” Dad interrupts my contemplation. “I didn’t mean to startle you. What’s got you thinking such deep thoughts? Or should I say who?” His eyes twinkle with mirth.
“What are you talking about?” God, please don’t let him know I’m attracted to the hulking giant in the back.
“Is there a special boy in your life that your mother and I don’t know about?”
Yes, your new dishwasher. “No,” I yell.
“Are you sure? You’re a beautiful little fireball. I’m sure plenty of boys at school have noticed.”
“Dad, ew. I don’t want to discuss this with you.”
“Maybe you should talk to your mom about it.”
“I don’t want to speak to her about this either. There is no guy or guys. I’m focused on football and schoolwork. Aside from that I’m here. When do I have time for a boyfriend, even if I wanted one?” I hold up my hand to stop him from speaking and shake my index finger from side to side. “Which I don’t. I do not want to be involved with anyone.”
“Okay. If you say so.” He shrugs and his tone tells me he doesn’t believe a word I’ve said. He’s so frustratingly on point I want to stomp my foot with frustration. Why does my dad have to know me so well? Can’t I have any secrets?
He pats me on the head like I’m still five years old. “I’m hitting the road. I told your mom I’d bring her a reuben and fries.” He holds up a white takeout container. “I made some for you and Trevor. Why don’t you take a break before you close up? Go enjoy your sandwich and keep him company.”
“Dad.” I glare at him pointedly. “Don’t play matchmaker. This isn’t Fiddler on the Roof. This is my life.”
He chuckles and then hums the song Matchmaker, Matchmaker all the way out the door. Resting my hands on my hips, my head drops back to rest on my shoulders and I groan. My father spends a few hours with Trevor and suddenly
he’s pushing me toward him. What the fuck happened? My father never acts like this about guys. This behavior is totally uncharacteristic for him. What did Trevor say?
Scurrying down the hallway, I barrel through the swinging door like a battering ram. “What the fuck did you say to my father?”
Trevor pulls out an earbud from his ear. “Huh? You talking to me?” He yanks out the second one and tucks them into the front pocket on his jeans.
I swing my head from side to side. “Who else is here for me to be talking to?”
“What did you want?” He wipes his hands on a dish towel and moves toward me.
“What did you say to my father?” I bark.
“In regards to what? You’re going to have to be a little more specific, Red. We talked about a lot of things.”
“Did you tell him that I liked you?”
“No, I said I was pretty sure you loved me, but you were too stubborn to admit it.” He grins, closing the distance between us until we’re toe to toe.
I poke his chest. “Don’t toy with me and my family. It’s not some game you can play without anyone getting hurt.” His expression grows serious.
“How am I fucking with them? Because I told your father that I’m nuts about you even though you’d rather be miserable than admit you feel anything for me?” He grips my upper arms. “Why is it so difficult for you to admit you feel this connection too? Why do you ignore it when we could see where this can go? Does it scare you so much?”
“Yes,” I whisper. His grip tightens on my arms.
“Why?” His question is a deep grumble uttered between clenched teeth. I stare up at him with wide eyes and a lump in my throat the size of a golf ball. “Why?” he repeats.
“I don’t want to care about you,” I yell. He pulls me closer until our chests bump and my nipples press against his rock-hard muscles.
“I don’t want to care about you either,” he growls, slamming his mouth down on mine. He swallows my gasp and captures my tongue, stealing all rational thought from me. His hands slacken, letting go of my arms to slide around my back, plastering my frame to him. All that matters is this moment. Not who he is. Not who I am. Nothing exists but the sensation of his hard body wrapped around me and his mouth devouring mine. This is perfection. I never want this kiss to end.