It was a slow Tuesday night, and I was on the verge of asking my manager if I could go home. Amanda, another waitress, wanted my section to try and make a little more money, and I was happy to accommodate her. I was too distracted anyway. All I could think about the entire evening was the conversation I overheard in the stairwell. Secret club. Score sheet. Initiation. Sex with a virgin. I kept repeating those words like a mantra because I didn’t want to forget them. I also thought that something would magically reveal itself to me if I kept saying them over and over. I was itching to talk to someone about it, but I didn’t know who I could trust.
I loved Gretchen with all my heart, but I could not trust her with this. She knew nothing about Beth’s rape, and I intended to keep it that way. Beth trusted me with that information, and I swore to tell no one. Not even her parents, though it pained me every time I saw her mother. Plus, I knew Gretchen. She would start a crusade, much like I was doing, except mine was a crusade of one. She’d want the entire world involved, and I wasn’t prepared to go there. I wanted to be quiet and wise about it. She’d blow the whole thing with her loud mouth.
“You’ve got someone at Table 2,” Amanda said.
I peered over to my table and instinctively balled my hands into fists. Amanda saw.
“You want me to take him?” she asked.
I shook my head. “You can have the rest, but I’ve got to take this one. He didn’t come here to eat,” and she understood completely.
I walked over to Finn and stood silent, waiting. He looked up at me and smiled.
“You look cute in your uniform,” he said.
I didn’t reply.
“Jesus, Brooke,” he said. “What do you want me to say?”
“Why are you here?” I asked.
“I wanted to see you. I didn’t get a chance to talk to you at the funeral.”
“You think it would have been wise to talk to me at the funeral?” I asked.
Finn shook his head. “No, I don’t. But you just disappeared. It took me forever to find out you hadn’t moved to California. Why didn’t you tell me?”
I shook my head in disbelief. “I don’t have to tell you about my life anymore, Finn. We’re over.”
“Look, us being together had nothing to do with Beth’s suicide,” he snapped.
“Shut your mouth about it,” I hissed.
“You love me, Brooke, but you feel guilty,” Finn said.
I hung my head. There was a time I thought I could love Finn. We never said it, and he made me angry when he brought it up to Beth the afternoon she caught us. But I knew I could never love him now. There was too much hurt. Too much guilt, and I couldn’t do that to myself anymore.
I looked at him, taking in his soft blond hair and brown eyes. He was cute, would always be cute. He’d just have to go be cute for some other girl.
“I can’t take your order, Finn,” I said finally.
“I don’t want food. I want you,” he said softly.
“Please don’t say things like that,” I pleaded.
“Come home with me, Brooke. We’ll just talk. That’s all we’ll do.”
I felt the pull for a fraction of a second, my body leaning into him remembering his mouth, his hands, all the ways he touched me just right. But that’s all it ever was, just touching. It was an instant revelation. No love. Just touching, and it was easy to back away.
“No, Finn.”
He looked at me with sad eyes. “You break my heart, Brooke.”
I shrugged and walked to the kitchen, passing by Amanda.
“He’s yours,” I said, but Finn had already left the table.
I don’t know why I dragged my feet about going home. I hung around the dirty dishes instead, watching Gregory load the machine with glasses and plates. Gregory was a student at Wake Technical Community College with ambitions to be a rock star. He played the drums, and from what I heard, he sucked at it. He was the dishwasher who yelled at me my first night, and unlike Terry, he never apologized. I thought he was a tool, and then I realized a tool was exactly the kind of guy I needed to talk to. I could trust him with the information because he wouldn’t care.
“What do you want?” Gregory asked, not looking at me. He continued shoving plates in the washer.
“I gotta question for you,” I replied.
“Well, I may or may not have an answer,” he said.
I gave him an even look. Okay, I had a few questions for him.
“Why do you dislike me?” I asked.
He chuckled. “Why are girls so self-absorbed? I don’t dislike you. I don’t think anything about you at all.” He looked at me, his facial expression asking, “What else?”
I blinked, then smirked. “Were the popular girls mean to you in high school?” I should have kept that smartass question to myself as I watched Gregory load a handful of knives into the dishwasher.
He paused and cocked his head, considering me. Then his mouth turned up into a smirk that matched my own. “Actually no. I fucked every one of them.”
I dismissed him with an eye roll. “Okay, whatever. If you overheard a bunch of guys talking about secret clubs and score sheets and having sex with virgins, what would you make of it?”
He screwed up his face in thought.
“Just a hypothetical question,” I added.
“Well, I think you’re talking about some kind of sex club,” he said.
“That much I figured,” I replied. “But score sheets?”
“Maybe they score the girls. How should I know?”
“You mean, like, how good they are in bed?”
“Yeah. Maybe they score the girls on their sex acts.”