Sizzle

by Whitley Green

  “Elliot,” she says softly. We don’t have a lot of time—it’s a fucking miracle we haven’t been discovered yet. But I lean into her anyway, catching a whiff of that sweet vanilla scent that seems to follow her everywhere. “Elliot, don’t you see? You’re jealous.”

  That sets me back a bit.

  “What? Jealous of what?”

  “Jealous over Alex, of course.”

  “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” I say. “Diana is not even remotely my type.” Like, not even in the same species. I actually physically shudder at the thought.

  “Not because of her,” says Joelle, laughing softly now. “I mean, you’re jealous because Alex might be talking to her again.”

  That’s not it.

  I mean, surely that’s not it.

  “Why would you think that, sunshine?” My voice sounds like it’s coming from far away, and I can’t quite catch my breath.

  “I’ve seen the way you look at him, Elliot,” she says, almost whispering now. “And I’ve seen the way he looks at you. And getting to share a part of that with you last night…”

  She’s saying Alex and I… that I want…

  She’s right.

  We don’t have time for this, and the longer we keep riding that crazy train of thought, the further away it gets me from finding out what made my girl cry.

  “Just think about it. For me?” she asks. I nod, because my voice is missing in action right this minute.

  A beat passes, and she drops her gaze to the floor.

  “My dad kicked me out this morning.”

  “What?” It’s all I can do not to shout and bring the rest of the staff running back here. I never thought I’d be grateful for a slow day, but today’s turning out to be an exception to all kinds of rules.

  Jealous over Alex. Jesus.

  “What happened?”

  “We argued,” she said, taking a deep breath. I’m still holding her hand, so I give it a squeeze. It’ll tide me over until I can hold her properly. “I suggested he think about being a little more independent, and… well, suffice it to say it didn’t go well.”

  “I’m so sorry, baby,” I say, darting a look over my shoulder before bending to brush a kiss across her lips. A dumb move, because once I get my mouth on hers again, I don’t want to let go.

  “Come stay with me.”

  “What?” The question is breathless, all but silent as I kiss her softly over and over again.

  “Stay with me,” I say, pulling back to rest my forehead on hers. “Or stay with Alex.”

  “I’m pretty sure you have to ask him first before you offer up his couch,” she says, laughing.

  “Who said anything about a couch?” I say without thinking. And shit, that sounds creepy as fuck. “I mean, we both have guest rooms. You don’t have to sleep on a couch. You don’t have to sleep in a guest room either, I just meant—”

  Joelle’s laughing now, genuinely laughing for the first time today, and it warms me from the inside out that I could give her that.

  I kiss her again because I can’t fucking help it. I’m in over my head for this woman.

  “Hey boss, Jimmy sent me back here for those—Whoa!”

  I jerk back, Joelle doing the same. I make a grab for the damn sheet pans—I’d forgotten, just flat out forgot about them—and shove them at the line cook.

  “Here, Bertie.” His name is Bertram, but everybody on the line calls him Bertie. He hates it, and I know that, and maybe I should have thought of that before I used the nickname because it’s not until I say it that he sneers at me.

  “No wonder she’s getting moved up to front line,” he says, jerking his chin in Joelle’s general direction. “Shame you’re not into dudes, boss. Maybe then I’d finally get promoted too.” He rolls his eyes and leaves.

  The room goes dark red.

  Shit. Shitting hell. Goddamn it.

  Joelle’s entire face is red now and it’s not the pretty blush I love so much.

  What a fucking mess.

  “We really shouldn’t be screwing around like this at work,” I say, looking back down the narrow hall toward the kitchen. Whispering won’t help now, not since Bertie saw us. They’ll be talking about us all over the restaurant within the hour. “This can’t happen again, Joelle.”

  When she doesn’t immediately respond, I turn back around. She’s got tears in her eyes again, but this time she’s not sad.

  Nope. The woman is pissed.

  “Look, I only meant—”

  “I know exactly what the fuck you only meant, Elliot,” she says. “I came back here for a couple of minutes of privacy. You’re the one who took advantage of that. You kissed me. And you have the nerve to act like this is my fault?”

  Shit. Mayday, mayday.

  “Joelle—”

  “Just leave it alone,” she says, moving out of the storeroom while managing to avoid touching me at all. “I have work to do. Boss.”

  I flinch.

  “What about tonight? What time will you be over?”

  She laughs, and it’s not the joyful sound from just a few short minutes ago. This time, it’s sad and sharp and full of something I never wanted to hear from her—regret.

  “Forget it. I’ll find someplace else to stay.”

  And with that, she’s gone.

  20

  Alex

  The snow really starts coming down just as I’m getting in my car after work, naturally. It couldn’t happen while I was trapped at my desk, staring out the window.

  That was about all I got done today, staring. Between that message from Diana and Elliot walking out on me for it—whatever the hell that was about… Not to mention everything that came before.

  I adjust myself again, grateful for the privacy of the car. Yeah, thinking about before had rendered me pretty much useless today. My supervisor’s out of town and everybody else is too caught up with getting their projects finished before Christmas, so no harm done this time.

  Not that there’s going to be a next time. Elliot made sure of that last night. I probably didn’t help matters, letting Joelle go the way I did.

  I don’t know what the hell Diana wants to talk about. As far as I’m concerned, we didn’t leave anything unsaid. There’s no unfinished business. She sure as shit doesn’t want me back, despite what Elliot seems to think.

  The memory of his anger kindles that spark of hope inside me and I step on that bastard fast to keep it from growing. But that’s the thing about hope. Once it’s there, even the smallest bit, you can’t push it out again. You might as well try to bottle smoke.

  He can’t possibly be jealous of her. Elliot doesn’t feel that way about me. And even if he did, he’s obviously in love with Joelle. I don’t blame him; I’m half in love with her myself. The difference is that they can make a happy life together.

  No matter how things shake out—if Elliot stays mad at me, or if he and Joelle can’t make things work between them—I can’t bring myself to regret last night. The grin I’ve been trying to hide all day breaks loose and here, alone in my car, I can smile like the fool I am.

  It was amazing. They were amazing. We lit the world on fire. I’d give anything to make it happen again but I won’t push Elliot somewhere he doesn’t want to go, and I won’t make Joelle feel like she has to include me out of some kinky, misguided notion of fairness.

  But instead of pulling up to my own house a few minutes later, I find I’m sitting parked outside of Duckbill. Joelle’s shift ended ten minutes ago.

  I could just grow a pair and go inside to talk to her but until I figure out what the hell got into Elliot, I better steer clear. If he’s freaking out about being turned on by a guy, I don’t think me showing up to his work is going to help him feel better.

  Instead, I fire off a text to Joelle.

  Hey pretty girl. Need a ride home today?

  She responds immediately.

  Yes, please. When can you get here?

  I grin.
r />   I’m sitting out front right now.

  I see a bright orange wool hat pop up in the window of the front door. Joelle pushes it open and hurries through the snow, sliding into the passenger seat beside me.

  “Hey,” she says breathlessly.

  “Hey yourself,” I say. I’m grinning like a fool again. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  She laughs.

  “Thanks for the ride,” she says, pushing the slouchy hat up out of her eyes. “I drove today but Dad had to come get the car earlier. I wasn’t looking forward to catching the bus in this weather.”

  “Glad to be of assistance.” Her cheeks are rosy pink from the cold and combined with that absurd orange hat, she’s damned adorable.

  Who am I kidding? I’ve been falling for this woman since the moment I met her.

  Joelle chafes her hands together for warmth. I lean over and capture them between my own, rubbing some of my heat into them. She glances up, a shy smile on her face.

  “Hey,” I say. Her smile widens.

  “You already said that.”

  She’s here with me, even after the way last night ended. And she’s smiling. Holding myself back from her feels like swallowing razor blades, so I lean in and kiss her soft mouth. Her lips part, her gasp caught between us. Her hands twist to grip mine, pulling me closer.

  What I wouldn’t give for goddamn bench seats right this minute. But the console between us is the only thing keeping me honest because the way she’s kissing me, like she could dive in and stay all night? I’m scanning the parking lot for somewhere we could go so I can pull her into my lap away from the eyes of anybody who happens by. It’s dark out already. If I avoid the streetlights…

  The thought shorts out when Joelle slides a hand around my neck, taking the kiss deeper. Every time I slide the tip of my tongue against her bottom lip, she whimpers, so I do it again. And again.

  And a third time, because that sound just fucking does it for me.

  I pull back slightly, because much more of her hot-as-hell mouth and I’m going to do more than seriously consider front seat sex for the first time since college.

  Joelle’s eyes are closed, the expression on her face… I’ve seen that expression in paintings. It’s beatific. It’s joy.

  She’s going to break my fucking heart. Here in the darkness of my car, snow falling outside around us, I can’t bring myself to care.

  I tuck a stray curl back behind her ear, careful not to disturb that insanely bright hat. She sighs, finally opening her eyes.

  I clear my throat, breaking eye contact before she can see the damn hearts popping up around my head. I’m such a fucking goner.

  “So, where are we headed? Back to your dad’s, I guess. Unless there’s somewhere you want to stop?” It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask her to come back with me, but it might be too soon for that. I’m focused on pulling out of the snowy parking lot so it doesn’t register right away that she takes too long to answer the question.

  “Yeah, please.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “He kicked me out this morning,” she says.

  “What?” She flinches at the volume. “Sorry. Jesus, Joelle. What happened?” A thought occurs to me and I feel the blood drain from my face. “Surely it’s not because we… because last night we—”

  “No! No,” she says fast. She’s blushing again. “It wasn’t that.”

  Now that we’re on the road, I take her hand, give it a gentle squeeze, and wait.

  “We had a fight,” she says. “I told him I think he needs to start being more independent. He didn’t take it well.”

  “Well, what’s wrong with that? I know he was injured, but you said his therapy’s been going great.”

  “It has been,” she says, staring out the window. “That was my point too. There’s no reason for me to keep—for him to keep…”

  “For him to keep relying on you, you mean?”

  She turns to look at me.

  “How did you know?”

  “Lucky guess,” I say, glancing over to smile at her. “Joelle, you’re one of the most competent people I’ve ever met. Given how old you were when your dad got hurt, I’m guessing you learned self-reliance at a pretty early age.”

  “I guess. We had to eat.”

  She’s trying to make a joke of it but pity tugs at my heart for that sixteen-year-old girl. Instead of worrying about math tests and college applications and boys and makeup, she’d had to figure out a way to take care of herself and a disabled parent. I can’t even imagine how difficult that must have been for her. Her father too, for that matter.

  “What did your dad say?”

  She sighs. “He thinks I’m ungrateful. Unreasonable, too, probably. Maybe I’m pushing too much, too soon.”

  “Maybe,” I say slowly. “Or maybe he’s afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  I shrug, turning into her neighborhood.

  “When enough people tell you you’re damaged, it starts to sound like the truth,” I say. I feel the full weight of her gaze, and the questions there. “I’m just saying. He’s had a lot to overcome. From what you’ve told me, he’s made a lot of progress. Maybe he just doesn’t see it that way yet.”

  I can tell she’s about to ask me what the hell I’m talking about and as I’m not keen on having that conversation right now, I ask the question that’s been on my mind the last thirty minutes.

  “Did you talk to Elliot today?”

  Her energy changes instantly.

  Shit.

  “Damn it. What happened? What did he do?”

  Joelle crosses her arms and stares straight ahead.

  “He made it clear that we’re not to be fooling around at work,” she says, her expression stony.

  Huh?

  “I mean, that sounds like something he would say,” I say slowly, turning onto her street. “But I would have thought after last night…”

  “Yeah, me too. But one of the other cooks caught us kissing in the stock room—”

  “Really?” The idea of Anna and Elliot sneaking around at work turns me on to an embarrassing degree but now is clearly not the time to ask for details.

  “Bertie went and told everybody else in the damn restaurant, and Elliot has the nerve to act like it’s my fault when he’s the one who kissed me in the first place!”

  I want to comfort her, to tell her Elliot’s probably overreacting because last night shook his world up too, but what can I say? He’s a grown ass man; he can speak for himself. And maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it didn’t mean as much to him.

  Yeah. Right.

  The idea of them sneaking around at work distracts me enough that we’re pulling up to her dad’s house before it occurs to me to ask.

  “Wait, if your dad kicked you out, what are we doing here? And where are you staying?” By the looks of the place, nobody’s home.

  “I need to pack a bag,” she says, avoiding my other question.

  “Do you have a place to stay?”

  She looks at me, pulling her coat tight around her body.

  “Are you offering?”

  I should. I want to. But a not-so-small part of me feels like offering to let her stay with me is somehow disloyal to Elliot, so I hesitate.

  “Did you tell Elliot?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he ask you to stay with him?” What the hell am I playing at? This isn’t two against one.

  If anything, it’s me trying to put the two together.

  Joelle snorts. “Sure he did. Right around the time he told me it was my fault we got busted today.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Tell me about it. So yes, he offered. I declined.” She looks at me evenly. “Does it matter?”

  It doesn’t. I want to help her. I want to take care of her. But Elliot should be the one. They belong together, and he knows it. I know he knows it. I think maybe even she might know it, if he doesn’t fuck it all up.

  I haven’t answered Joelle’s questio
n, and the look on her face tells me I’m too late. She’s heard all she’ll listen to from me.

  “Stay with me, then. I’ll wait for you while you pack. I have a guest room,” I say, but she’s already holding up her hand, disgust written all over her face.

  “Forget it, Alex.” She shoves the door open, powdery snow swirling in around her. “Thanks for the ride.”

  The door slams shut behind her.

  21

  Joelle

  Connie comes back into the living room, shaking a bottle at me.

  “This one okay?”

  I don’t even look at the label.

  “Looks like wine to me, which means yes,” I tell her, raising my empty glass in a toast.

  Because really, what’s a girl supposed to do when her lovers bail on her? Get drunk with a girlfriend, that’s what.

  Connie maybe doesn’t exactly count as a girlfriend, but she’s the closest thing I’ve got. And right now, sitting in her toasty warm apartment on the world’s softest microfiber couch with a big fat handcrafted comforter wrapped around me—right now’s a pretty nice place to be.

  The bottle of wine we just killed might have something to do with that, but to hell with it. Tonight, I’ll take all the comfort I can get.

  “So is one bottle enough to get you to tell me what happened with the boss man, or should I wait ‘til this one’s gone too?” she says, pouring us each a fresh glass.

  I take a slow drink.

  “If you’ve already heard about it, then you know what happened,” I say, sullen.

  “Honey, I heard restaurant gossip. That’s about as far from facts as watching cable news the day before an election.” Connie snorts, amused at herself. “For all I know, Elliot could have been kissing the beer guy. Although, that’s kind of hot, now that I think about it.”

  “It wasn’t the beer guy,” I say. If Elliot’s going to be kissing any guys, it better be Alex. And ho, boy, I am not ready to have that conversation with anybody else. Plus, Elliot made it pretty clear he’s got a ways to go before he’s ready to even talk about that, let alone get to the kissing part.