17
Emily
I’m helping serve again today. I rush back to the kitchen, scoop up more plates, and deliver them to their designated tables. Some of my hair escapes my ponytail, and I tuck the strands behind my ears. I stand in the kitchen, waiting for the next set of orders to fly across the silver shelf.
Kevin comes up behind me, pulls the pen from behind my left ear, and scribbles on a piece of paper, which he passes to the cook. He fumbles to put the pen back in place, and I gently swat his hand away.
“Just give it to me,” I say, and place it back behind my ear. I look up to find him staring at me and smiling. I half smile back and hurry away before he can say anything.
I avoid Kevin for the rest of my shift. I survey the kitchen before entering to complete my end of shift food prep. The coast is clear. I pull out frozen chicken tenders and mozzarella sticks to count and bag for the next shift. I get through five bags of each before I feel someone approach from behind.
“Are you avoiding me?”
It’s Kevin. His deep voice startles me, and I drop some food on the floor.
“Dammit,” I mumble under my breath. I answer him in a clear voice without turning to face him. “Avoiding you? I call it tactfully avoiding embarrassing myself.” I toss the dropped food into the garbage. “Like that.”
He laughs. “Don't be embarrassed. Do you know how much food we drop back here? And how much of it we just throw back on the grill?”
“First off, gross. Don’t tell me that. Second, thanks for trying to make me feel better.”
I smile at him and look him in the eyes for the first time today. He brushes his hand through his hair, which he does whenever he's nervous.
“No problem. A pretty girl should never look so distraught.” He winks at me.
I panic and end up dropping all the baggies onto the floor. My face flushes, and my heartbeat pounds in my ears. I squat to pick them up and go to toss them into the garbage.
“Don't bother throwing those out,” he says. “The freezer will kill any germs, and the fryer will take care of the rest. Just bag those suckers up and let me take you home.”
I nod.
I finish my end of shift duties and we head to his car. I don’t fight him over the ride home this time, mainly because the temperature is hovering around fifteen degrees and the snow is coming down in sheets. I didn’t accept because of the weather, though.
I watch him use the stick shift as he drives. For the life of me, I can’t understand the mechanics behind it. He makes it look so easy. He notices me watching him.
“Do you want to learn how to do this one of these days?”
“Yes, I think that'd be really neat. I love learning new things.”
I sound like such a dweeb.
He smiles at me, places my hand on the gearshift, and covers my hand with his. He’s so tan compared to me. He explains how to feel when the gears need to be shifted. I zone out and watch his full lips as he speaks.
He pulls into the apartment parking lot. His hand leaves mine and turns off the ignition. The car is dark and quiet, illuminated only by the lights in the lot. I hear his breath and sense his hesitation to say goodbye. He clears his throat.
“Emily...”
I watch as he plays with the keys in his hands. The metal catches the lights and they flicker in the darkness.
“What's wrong?” I ask him.
“Can I come in?”
I am taken aback by his request. I was taught that it’s uncouth to invite yourself into someone’s home. It would have been a turnoff, if not for the shaky quality to his voice when he asked.
“Sure.”
I must sound apprehensive, because his body tenses.
“If you don't want me to, I completely understand. I just thought maybe we could talk more inside rather than out here in the cold.”
I look outside at the snow covered ground and shiver slightly. It is cold out here. I glance up at my apartment window and see that the lights are off. I look around the lot, unable to find David's truck.
“No, I want you to, but I need to tell you...”
He listens with an intense gaze. I think he expects to hear the worst. That I have a baby inside, a partner I’m cheating on, or a home filled wall to wall with an abundance of cats.
“I live with my best friend. It’s a guy.”
“Oh.”
He swallows hard. The tension is suffocating.
“Have you guys ever… hooked up?” he asks.
“No, nothing like that. We are just friends.”
Silence. I grab the door handle and open the door. Cold air ambushes me as the wind battles my hair. I lean down.
“Are you coming in or not?” I ask with unintentional sternness.
“Oh, yes, definitely,” he says, unclipping his seatbelt and stepping out of the car. He follows me as we walk across the parking lot, through a hallway, and into my apartment.
We slip our shoes off at the doorway. Snow dissolves into the carpet.
“I don't think David is here, but do you mind if I go check?”
He motions for me to go ahead.
The apartment is dark and quiet. I flip on the dim living room light. There’s no noise coming from David’s room, but I knock to be sure. Silence. I take my jacket off as I walk back toward Kevin.
“You planning to keep your coat on?” I ask as I hang mine on the hook by the door.
“Oh, right,” he says, running his hand through his hair. Little flakes of snow still frost some of his dark strands, but they disintegrate as his warm skin brushes past them. He glances around the room as if he expects a monster to come tearing from the dark hallway.
“He’s out for the evening,” I assure him.
I sit on the cold leather couch. Kevin comes over and sits next to me, close enough that only the fabric of our work pants keeps our skin from touching. I grab the remote and turn on the TV. I lower the volume until it’s merely background noise. We play an unofficial game of twenty-one questions and discuss mundane topics until our nerves melt like the snowflakes.
He grabs my hand and interlaces his fingers with mine. He smiles at me. He has a white, slightly imperfect smile. He rubs his free hand through his hair again. We lock eyes and my cheeks flush. This is why I avoid direct eye contact with people as much as possible; it causes a physical reaction that I can’t hide. David knows this all too well.
I feel his strong hand on my chin. He pulls my face toward him and leans in to kiss me. His full lips press against mine, and he kisses me with fire on his tongue. His mouth trails down my neck, toward my clavicle. A soft moan escapes from deep within my throat. He looks to me for permission to continue and I nod quickly. This isn't like me, but it feels so right.
He tries to pull my shirt up, and I shake my head.
“Leave it on,” I whisper.
I sit up, unclasp my bra from beneath my shirt, and throw it to the floor. I pull my shirt down past my breasts, exposing them without revealing the tummy that I hate. He follows my lead and pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it aside.
He is a big guy, tall and masculine with a wide and sturdy frame. His arms fall to both sides of me, strong and defined. I run my fingers through his hair as he tastes the skin of my chest. His tongue races along my nipples, leaving wet trails that trace his path back up to my neck.
“Emily?” says a voice from the doorway.
Between the drone of the TV and our heavy breaths, I didn’t hear the door open. I look up to see David, a look of shock plastered across his normally smug face.
I push Kevin back and yank my shirt up over my chest.