“Hey, yourself.”
“I’m proud of you. You know that, right?” he says, and then he’s gone.
I roll my eyes and shove my phone back into my pocket. I stretch my arms and think more unthinkable things and have to force myself to stop. I don’t think walking around with a hard dick is very conducive to good customer service.
I’m about to stand when I see a familiar car pull into the parking lot. I tell my legs to move, knowing it’s stupid because I’ll have to see her no matter what. My legs won’t budge. I grip the edges of the table and force myself to rise, knocking my knees against the metal bar that runs underneath. I hiss and sit back down. I’m about to try it again when she gets out of her car and raises her hand to her forehead, blocking out the sun. She looks right at me, and even from where I sit, I can see Anna hesitate.
It’s only been a few days since I saw her last, but it feels like forever. I had been so focused on my misery over Ty that I hadn’t even thought to look at the schedule to see if she’d be working tonight. She walks slowly, as if we’re both thinking about how she has to walk right by me to get into the store. I tell myself I’m being foolish, that we were going to see each other again, that it was only a matter of time. For God’s sake, we work together. I stare at her for a moment before lowering my eyes and finding an interesting freckle on my right arm that deserves my undivided attention. I think disjointed thoughts of how when she sees my face, she’s going to know everything. It’ll take one look, and she’ll see it written there like I have a big neon sign flashing on my forehead proclaiming that I’m a FAG, that I’ve done FAG THINGS, and that I’m going to do FAG THINGS AGAIN. I groan softly to myself and rub my hands over my face. I think that maybe when I move them, she’ll have disappeared, either into the store or from the earth. Frankly, I don’t know which would be better.
But she doesn’t walk right by, and she doesn’t vanish into thin air. She sits down on the opposite side of the table. I feel it creak, and I curse ever so softly and move my hands back down to the table. I hazard a glance at her and am encouraged slightly. She’s not sneering at me, and she doesn’t recoil when she looks back at me.
“Hey,” she says, appearing almost as nervous as I feel.
“Hey, yourself,” I say back, congratulating myself when my voice comes out normal. “Looks like you’re working tonight.” That sounded real intelligent.
She nods. “Yeah, I’m closing. Did you not see it on the schedule?”
I shake my head. “Guess I didn’t.”
Anna plays with her fingernail. “So what’s going on?”
“Oh, you know…,” I start. In my head, I finish: Oh, you know, just the usual. I’ve slept in Otter’s bed two or three times now. Oh, don’t worry! We haven’t really done anything. Except tell stories about you. And me. And him. Did you know he’s wanted me for a long time? He really left because he needed me so bad that it hurt, and he thought he was projecting. Remember when I used to say that to you? That you’re projecting? Well, he thought it too. But his was so bad that he used it as an excuse and got the hell out of Dodge, but then he came back, and I still don’t completely understand why yet. Oh, and we may have made out. And I may have liked it. And this is after you and I broke up, like… what? Two days ago? Three days ago? After being together since like second grade? So you know, the usual.
“You know,” I say again, “the usual.”
She nods again. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
I shrug. “It’s neither, I guess,” I say truthfully. “It just… is.”
“How’s Ty?” she asks.
I pick neatly at a slash of paint on the table. “He’s fine. He’s staying the night at a friend’s house tonight.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “Like, a friend from school? Wow, Bear. How’d you get him to do that?”
I snort. “I didn’t get him to do anything. He came and asked me.”
Concern suddenly blossoms across her face. She knows me too well, and I curse again. “How are you with that?” she asks me softly.
“Me? Oh, I’m fine,” I say, trying to smile. It comes out like a grimace. “It was bound to happen sooner or later, right?”
She cocks her head slightly. “I’m sure it was,” she says slowly. “But I wonder why he decided to do it now?” I stupidly almost tell her it’s because the Kid thinks I’m safe and happy now that Otter’s home. That I’m slowly starting to realize that the only reason he’s starting to act like the Kid that he is, is because he has someone who promised to take care of me. I don’t think it’ll go over very well, so I tell her I don’t know.
She asks about Creed, and I ask about her mom. Both are doing fine. She tells me she got her grades back from school, and she did well. I tell her how I had packed food in the Kid’s overnight bag. She says that she went to a bonfire on the beach with some of her friends last night. I tell her that sounds like it was fun. She says it was. Neither of us says anything about Otter and neither of us is saying anything about her and me, and when I think I can’t feel any more uncomfortable, she glances down at her watch and says she needs to go clock in, or she’ll be late. I tell her I’ll be in in a minute. She stands and looks like she is going to say something else. I
look at her expectantly and know I’ll answer whatever she says, but she changes her mind and flips her hair and walks inside. She doesn’t look back.
FOUR hours later I’m sitting in the main office, trying to fill out some paperwork for the produce guys. It’s dead tonight, and I’ve already sent a cashier home. I had told Anna that she could go if she wanted, too, but she told me she needed the hours. The night manager came on, and I took that as an opportunity to barricade myself in the office and pretend to be busy. I told myself it was because I was busy, that I wasn’t trying to hide from anyone, but a part of me felt like a fraud. I’m shoving some papers in a filing cabinet when I hear an easy chuckle behind me.
I turn and see Otter propped against the doorway, as he seems prone to do. He’s dressed in jeans and black boots and a tight black shirt under a leather jacket that does little to hide the fact that he’s powerful underneath all that unnecessary clothing. I look appreciatively at this and think that straight guys can tell when another guy is attractive, so this can’t be that gay but most guys don’t finish the thoughts with wanting to see just how powerful a body there is without all that clothing.
“What’s so funny?” I say as he chuckles again.
He grins. “You look hot in an apron.”
I rush over, hissing. I push my way past him and peer over his large shoulder, making sure no one heard him. “Don’t say stuff like that,” I say, glowering at him. “We’re at my work!” At least I had kept my dirty thoughts to myself!
He arches his eyebrow. “Why not? You can just tell them that I’m your best friend’s gay older brother who’s back in town.” He flips up the collar on his jacket and pulls an imaginary comb out of his back pocket and starts rubbing it over his head. I glare at him for a moment longer before chuffing in annoyance.